THE WRITING OF ENGLISH BY JOHN MATTHEWS MANLY HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO AND EDITH RICKERT SOMETIME INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH AT VASSAR COLLEGE AND THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1919. BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY PREFACE OUR primary purpose in this book is to awaken in the student the desire for self-expression through the written and spoken word. Without this desire all teaching is futile; and with it learning is inevitable. With the student in an attitude of confidence in the worth of his own thinking and of eagerness to learn the methods by which it can be con- veyed to others in words, the problem of teaching the use of English reduces to the balancing of constructive practice over against the corrective drill necessary to eradicate the bad habits due to foreign birth, defective training, or in- difference. The methods here presented have grown out of experiment at the University of Chicago with sections of freshmen who, being below the standard for entrance, were required to take additional training before they could be admitted to the regular freshman course in English. By the kind of practice and study developed in this book the following results were obtained with a hundred students : 1. Approximately one-third were brought up to the fresh- man standard. 2. Approximately one- third were permitted to take a supplementary half-course and given credit for freshman English. 3. Approximately one-third were given freshman credit without delay or further training. In brief, two-thirds of the class accomplished what had before been done by a very small percentage. This improvement in results was due not merely to the student's changed attitude toward writing but also to his iv PREFACE acquired sense of responsibility in the corrective drill work. He was shown how errors in form can be eliminated; and if, after fair trial, he did not begin to take an active part in his own salvation in this respect, his work was ruthlessly rejected on this basis alone. With such an understanding, most of the papers soon showed a steady and rapid gain in the use of English; and with the freeing of energy from the con- tinual consideration of mechanics, a decided improvement in the thought expressed and in the technique of expression. To see the stirring of interesting and original lines of thought in students supposedly dull or indifferent was no less gratify- ing than to read almost faultless English written by Russians, Poles, Lithuanians, Chinese, Japanese, and young people of many other nationalities, whose work in the beginning was almost unintelligible. Of the many unorthodox features in the treatment of va- rious subjects it is perhaps unnecessary to speak: they should be their own warrant. One point only in the general struc- ture of the book does not at once appear, and needs a word of explanation. Remembering that the term "freshman" does not connote a fixed standard of attainment, we have tried to plan the work outlined so that it can be adapted to the needs of students in various stages of proficiency. By the average student the Appendix should be used only for reference during the writing and correcting of papers; but by the poor student it should be made the subject of con- tinual study and drill outside the classroom, with emphasis placed according to individual needs. It can be used to advantage by several students working together. In the constructive part of the book more exercises have been pro- vided than any class could do; but these are purposely of many types to meet the experience and powers of different students. Again, by classes that need to spend much time on the preliminary and outside drill work whole chapters in Part III may be omitted or relegated to the sophomore year PREFACE V without in any way interfering with the integrity of the course. It is hoped that this flexibility of plan may be accounted among the merits of the book. To the teacher overburdened with dead weight of daily themes we hope that our methods may be of special use. We try continually to suggest ways in which by stimulating the student to take a more active part in the cooperative work of education the teacher's energies may be conserved for that constructive criticism in which the finest elements of personality are indispensable. To Dr. Charles Manly and Mrs. Hellen Manly Patrick are due thanks for invaluable assistance in the reading of manu- script and proof, and in the preparation of the Index. J. M. M. E. R. WASHINGTON, January 27, 1919. CONTENTS PARTI INTRODUCTORY WORK Chapter Page I. WRITING AND READING 3 II. READING ALOUD , 11 III. USE OF THE LIBRARY > 20 IV. USE OF THE DICTIONARY 30 V. GOOD FORM 37 PART II TECHNIQUE VI. THE SENTENCE 1. Predication 53 2. Organization 57 3. Modification 64 4. Punctuation 67 5. Compound Elements 72 6. The Compound Sentence 76 7. The Complex Sentence 82 8. Phrases 90 9. Compactness 96 10. Clearness 100 11. Euphony and Rhythm 107 12. Sentence Building 112 VII. THE PARAGRAPH 1. External Organization 118 2. Length 121 3. Internal Organization 123 4. Structural Devices 132 VIII. PURPOSE AND PROCESS IN WRITING 138 IX. NARRATION 1. Limitation of Material 142 2. Scale of Treatment. . . . 147 viii CONTENTS Chapter Page 3. Narrative Devices 151 4. Plot 153 X. DESCRIPTION 1. Sense Appeal 159 2. Choice of Details 166 3. Point of View 170 4. General Impression 174 5. Plan 182 6. Combined with Narration 185 XI. EXPOSITION 1. Methods 189 2. Definition 194 3. Division 198 4. Exemplification 202 5. Paraphrase and Amplification 204 6. Generalized Description and Narration 206 7. Cause and Effect 208 8. Character Drawing 213 XII. ARGUMENT 1. Evidence 222 2. Authority 226 3. Inductive Reasoning 233 4. Deductive Reasoning 237 5. Inductive and Deductive Reasoning 241 6. Analogy 243 7. Persuasion 246 8. Preparing a Formal Argument 249 XIII. THE VALUES OF WORDS 255 XIV. IMAGINATION 268 PART III PRACTICE XV. THE TYPES OF WRITING 277 XVI. NEWSPAPER WORK 1. News 282 2. General Principles : 285 3. News Stories 288 4. Feature Stories 289 5. "Human Interest" Stories. . . . . 292 CONTENTS ix Chapter Page 6. "Rewrite" and "Follow-up" Stories 296 7. The Sunday Edition 298 8. Editorials 299 XVII. THE SHORT STORY 1. Characteristics and Sources 303 2. Development 305 3. Point of View 314 4. Characters 316 5. Setting 320 6. Dialogue 322 7. Title 325 8. General Exercises in the Short Story 326 XVIII. THE PLAY 328 XIX. THE SHORT PAPER 1. Plan 835 2. The Informative Article 340 3. The Informal Essay 350 4. The Nature Study 351 5. Studies in Human Nature 354 6. The Biographical Study, 1 357 7. The Biographical Study, II 359 8. The Biographical Study, III 362 9. The Propaganda Paper or Speech 365 XX. CRITICISM 369 XXI. RESEARCH WORK 381 XXII. LETTER-WRITING 1. Personal Letters 386 2. Routine Business Letters 390 3. Official and Form Letters 393 4. Constructive Business Letters 394 XXIII. VERSE 1. Meter 398 - 2. The Ballad 403 3. Common Stanza Forms 407 4. The Sonnet. . . . . 408 APPENDIX I. GOOD FORM IN WRITING 413 Rules for Manuscript 413 Rules for Personal Letters ... . . 415 x CONTENTS Appendix Page Formal Letters 417 Rules for Business Letters 418 Penmanship 419 II. NOTE-TAKING 420 Library Notes 420 Class Notes 422 III. CAPITALS AND ITALICS 423 Capitals 424 Italics 428 IV. SPELLING 431 General Rules 431 Exercises in Spelling 434 The Hyphen ' 439 Spelling-out and Abbreviation 442 V. ON SPEAKING ENGLISH 442 VI. PUNCTUATION 445 Period 446 Question Mark 446 Exclamation Mark 447 Colon 447 Semicolon 448 Comma 448 Common Abuses of the Comma 451 Dash 452 Ellipses 453 Quotation Marks 453 Marks of Parenthesis 454 Brackets 455 VII. GRAMMAR REVIEW 455 Questions 455 Troublesome Verbs 457 Summary of the Rules for Shall and Will 458 VIII. SENTENCE FAULTS 459 SENTENCES FOR CORRECTION 475 IDIOMS 482 EXERCISES IN DISCRIMINATION 487 COLLOQUIALISMS 489 OVERWORKED PHRASES , 494 ILLUSTRATIONS GEORGE GISZE [Holbein] 218 SIR THOMAS MORE [Holbein] CICELY HERON [Holbein] WORDSWORTH'S DAFFODILS - 378 PARTI INTRODUCTORY WORK CHAPTER I WRITING AND READING Do you like to write ? Probably not. What have you tried to write? Probably "themes." The "theme" is a literary form invented by teachers of rhetoric for the education of students in the art of writing. It does not exist outside the world of school and college. No editor ever accepted a "theme." No "theme" was ever de- livered from a rostrum, or spoken at a dinner, or bound be- tween the covers of a book in the hope that it might live for centuries. In a word, a "theme" is first and last a product of "composition" a laborious putting together of ideas, without audience and without purpose, hated alike by student and by instructor. Its sole use is to exemplify the principles of rhetoric. But rhetoric belongs to the past as much as the toga and the snuffbox; it is an extinct art, the art of culti- vating style according to the mannerisms of a vanished age. Forget that you ever wrote a "theme," and ask yourself now : "Should I like to write? " Of course you would if you could. And you can. You have had, and you will have, some experiences that will not be repeated exactly in any other life that no one else can express exactly as you would express them. And the art of expressing what you have ex- perienced, what you think, what you feel, and what you believe, can be learned. If you stop to consider the matter, you will realize that self-expression is one of the laws of life; you do express yourself day after day, whether you will or not. Hence, the more quickly you learn that successful self-expression is the source of one of the greatest pleasures in life, the more 4 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH readily will you be able to turn your energy in the right direc- tion, and the more fun will you get out of the process. The kind of delight that comes through self-expression of the body, through the play of the muscles in running or hurdling, through the play of muscles and mind together in football or baseball or tennis or golf, comes also through the exercise of the mind alone in talk or in writing. Remember always throughout this course, that you have something to say something peculiar to yourself that should be contributed to the sum of the world's experience, some- thing that cannot be contributed by anyone but yourself. It may be much or it may be little: with that you are not con- cerned at present; your business now is to find out how to say it; how to clear away the obstacles that clog self-expres- sion; how to give your mind free swing; and how to get all the fun there is in the process. The initial problems in learning to write are: How can you get at this store of material hidden within you? and how can you know when you have found it? Your experience, how- ever interesting, is as yet very limited. How can you tell which phases of it deserve expression, and which are mere commonplace? The quickest way to answer this question is by reading. Reading will tell you which phases of expe- rience have been commonly treated and which have been neglected. Moreover, as you read you will be surprised to find that very often the features of your life which seem to you peculiarly interesting are exactly those that are com- monly and even cheaply written about, while those which you have passed over as not worth attention may be aspects of life that other people too have passed over; they may there- fore be fresh and well worth writing about. For instance, within the last twenty-five years we have had two writers, Joseph Conrad and John Masefield, writing of the sea as it has never been written of before. Both have been sailors; and both have utilized their experience as viewed through the WRITING AND READING 5 medium of their temperaments in a way undreamed of be- fore. Again, within the last ten years we have had Algernon Blackwood, using his imagination to apply psychology to the study of the supernatural, and so developing a field peculiar to himself. Still again, H. G. Wells, who began his career as a clerk and continued as a teacher of science, has found in both these phases of his experience a mine of literary wealth; and Arnold Bennett, born and educated in the drear- iest, most unpicturesque, apparently least inspiring, part of England, has seen in the very prosiness of the Five Towns untouched material, and has given this an enduring place in literature. In your imagination there may lie the basis of fantasies as yet unexpressed; or in your experience, aspects of life that have not as yet been adequately treated. As you read you will find that until recently the one phase of life most exploited in literature was the romantic love of youth; this was the basis of nearly all novels and of most short stories; its presence was demanded for either primary or secondary interest in the drama; and it was the chief source of inspiration for the lyric. But within the last thirty years all sorts of other subjects have been opened up. To-day the writer's difficulty is, not that he is restricted by literary con- vention in his choice of material, but that he is so absolutely unrestricted that he may be in doubt where to make his choice. He is, to be sure, conditioned in two ways : To do the best work, he must keep within the bounds of his own tem- perament and experience; and he should as far as possible avoid phases of life already written about, unless he can present them under some new aspect. With these conditions in mind, you are ready to ask your- self: What have I to write about? Let us put the question more concretely: Have you lived, for instance, in a little mining town in the West? Such a little town, with its saloons and automatics and flannel-shirted hero, stares at us every month from the pages of popular magazines. But perhaps 6 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH your little mining town is dry, perhaps there has not been a shooting fray hi it for ten years, and all the young men go to Bible class on Sunday. Well, here is something new: let us have it. Is New York your home? The magazines tell you that New York is parceled out among a score of writers: the Italian quarter, the Jewish quarter, the Syrian quarter, the boarding-houses, Wall Street. What is there left? The suburbs? Surely not; and yet have you ever seen a story of just your kind of street and just the kind of people that you know? If not, here is your opportunity. You have read about sailors, fishermen, farmers, de- tectives, Italian fruit-peddlers, Jewish clothes-merchants, commercial travelers, financiers, salesmen and saleswomen, doctors, clergymen, heiresses and men about town, but have you often read a thrilling romance of a filing clerk? How about the heroism of a telephone collector? the humors of a street-car conductor? The seeing eye will find material in the street car, in the department store, in the dentist's waiting room, in college halls, on a lonely country road anywhere and everywhere. And the seeing eye is cultivated by a perpetual process of comparing life as it is with life as it is portrayed in literature and in art. In other words, to get material to write about, you must cultivate alertness to the nature and value of your own life-experience, and to the nature and value of all forms of life with which you come into contact; but this you can never do with any degree of success unless you at the same time learn how to read. You may say that you know how to read. It is almost certain that you do not. If by reading you mean that you can run your eye over a page, and, barring a word here and there, get the general drift of the sense, you may perhaps qualify as able to read. If you are set the task of interpreting fully every phrase in an article by a thoughtful writer, the chances are that you will fail. When only a small part of a writer's meaning has passed from his mind to yours, you WRITING AND READING 7 can hardly be said to have read what he has written. On the other hand, no one can get out of written words all that was put into them. What was written out of one man's expe- rience must be interpreted by another's experience; and as no two people ever have exactly the same experience no two people are exactly alike it follows that no interpreta- tion is ever entirely what the writer had in mind. The ratio between what goes into a book and what comes out of it varies in two ways. Granted the same reader, he will take only to the limit of his capacity from any book set before him: he may get almost all from a book that contains but little, a good share of a book that contains much, but very little of a book that is far beyond the range of his experience. Granted the same book, one reader will barely skim its sur- face, another will gain a fair idea of the gist of it, a third will almost relive it with the author. The main point is that this varying ratio depends upon the amount of life-experience that goes into the writing of a book and the amount of life-experience that goes into the reading of it. For as writing is the expression of life, so reading is vicarious living living by proxy, reliving in imagination what the author has lived before he was able to write ft. Hence, we grow up to books, grow into them, and grow out of them. Our growing experience of life may be measured by the books that we read; and conversely, as we cannot have all experience in our own lives, books are necessarily one of the most fruitful sources of growth in experience. This is true, however, only of what may be called vitalized reading reading, not with the eyes alone, nor with the mind alone, but with the stored experiences of life, with the emo- tions that it has brought, with the attitudes toward men and things and ideas that it has given in a word, with imagina- tion. To read with imagination, you must be, in the first place, active; in the second place, sensitive, and, because you are sensitive, receptive. Instead, however, of being merely 8 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH passively receptive of the stream of ideas and images and sensations flowing from the work you are reading, you must be alert to take all that it has to give, and to re-create this in terms of your own experience. Thus by making it a part of your imaginative experience, you widen your actual expe- rience, you enrich your life, and you increase the flexibility and vital power of your mind. In order, then, to tap the sources of your imagination, you must learn to experience in two ways: first, through life it- self, not so much by seeking experiences different from those that naturally come your way, as by becoming aware of the value of those that belong naturally to your life; and second, through learning to absorb and transmute the life that is in books, beginning with those that stand nearest to your stage of development. In the process of reading you will turn more and more to those writers who have a larger mastery of life, and who, by their skill in expressing the wisdom and beauty that they have made their own, can ad- mit you, when you are ready, to some share in that mastery. ASSIGNMENT 1. Read slowly the following extract from G. H. Palmer's Self- cultivation in English: "But the very fact that literary endowment is immediately recognized and eagerly envied has induced a strange illusion in regard to it. It is supposed to be something mysterious, innate in him who possesses it, and quite out of the reach of him who has it not. The very contrary is the fact. No human employment is more free and calculable than the winning of language. Un- doubtedly there are natural aptitudes for it, as there are for farm- ing, seamanship, or being a good husband. But nowhere is straight work more effective. Persistence, care, discriminating observation, ingenuity, refusal to lose heart, traits which in every other occu- pation tend toward excellence, tend toward it here with special security." Does Mr. Palmer mean that anyone can learn to write well? How? Read the quotation again, and see whether you got the full mean- WRITING AND READING 9 ing. What escaped you? Now make a complete statement of Mr. Palmer's idea, in one sentence if possible. Is the expression of this idea commonplace or not? Which words, phrases, or sentences, attracted your attention as being in some way unusual? Suggest if you can a commonplace substitute for each, and show the difference in meaning or in effect of the expres- sion used. Interpret such of the following expressions as you have not al- ready discussed: induced; innate; who has it not; very contrary; free and calculable; winning of language; straight work; refusal to lose heart; tend toivard excellence; special security. This passage is charged with meanings, chiefly because it says much in small space; therefore in a casual and careless reading many of them are lost. In order to "read" the passage so that you absorb its meaning in large part, you must get the flavor of meaning of each word as it comes, and of each group of words. To do this, you must take time enough for the play of the mind; you must be at once sensitive to each new impression in turn, and at the same time alert to dominate the whole with your own mental activity. 2. Read the following extract from C. W. Eliot's The Cultivated Man: "When we ask ourselves why a knowledge of literature seems indispensable to the ordinary idea of cultivation, we find no answer except this, that in literature are portrayed all human passions, desires, and aspirations, and that acquaintance with these human feelings, and with the means of portraying them, seems to us es- sential to culture. These human qualities and powers are also the commonest ground of interesting human discourse, and therefore literary knowledge exalts the quality and enhances the enjoyment of human intercourse. It is in conversation that cultivation tells as much as anywhere, and this rapid exchange of thoughts is by far the commonest manifestation of its power. Combine the knowledge of literature with knowledge of the 'stream of the world,' and you have united two large sources of the influence of the cul- tivated person." What is the point of this extract? Do you agree with it? De- fend your position. What is the stream of ihe world? How is it best learned? What is the effect of familiarity with it upon personality? upon power of expression in speech, or in writing? Discuss the relationship of knowledge science, history, or technical knowledge to culture; to success in writing. 10 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. Read the following extract from Kipling; and illustrate from your reading of modern books and magazines: (1) the first two sentences; (2) the first clause of the third sentence; (3) the second clause of the third sentence. Which of these types of story does Kipling write? Interpret and illustrate the fourth and fifth sentences; then estimate the value of the literary ideal that they present. "Tell them first of those things that thou hast seen and they have seen together. Thus their knowledge will piece out thy im- perfections. Tell them of what thou alone hast seen, then what thou hast heard. ... All the earth is full of tales to him who listens and does not drive away the poor from his door. The poor are the best of tale-tellers; for they must lay their ear to the ground every night." CHAPTER H READING ALOUD As long as your reading remains a purely mental process, you are likely to get only half or a quarter or one-tenth of the content of a page, or even to do no more than skim off an idea or a word as you go; and when you turn the leaf, you your- self will perhaps be unaware how much or how little you have grasped. Have you not had the experience, at some time when your mind was perplexed or troubled, of suddenly be- coming aware that you did not know a word that you had been reading? Your eye had been following word after word, but your mind had been busy with its own problems. In reading aloud such abstraction is impossible. The mind has to be focussed upon the problems of pronunciation, the relation of word to word, of phrase to phrase, of sentence to sentence. Especially will this be true when you are reading to some one else. Then the mind must be alert every mo- ment, not only to deal adequately with the mechanical prob- lems of utterance, but also and even more to interpret for the listener the meaning behind the words. Moreover, there are certain qualities of style that can- not be adequately realized except through the medium of the voice. These are especially tone-color and rhythm. By tone-color we mean the combinations of sound used to make the word-expression conform to the ideas in beauty, harshness, rapidity, or dignity, or even to make the sound of the word actually present to the ear the thing it represents. Such a sentence as the following may illustrate what is meant by this: A grim chuckle followed the suggestion, and the soft wheep, wheep of unscabbarded knives followed the chuckle. Kipling, 11 12 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH But even when the words do not actually try to represent the sound, they may suggest it as in the following lines of Swin- burne the song of the swallow is suggested: O swallow, sister, fair swift swallow and Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow. So the rhythm of a phrase, of a sentence, of a paragraph, is sometimes discovered to be good or bad only when the passage is read aloud. There is no surer or swifter test of quality in writing than that of reading aloud; it shows and shows up in a moment, beauties and faults that may escape silent reading many times. The following sentence, read silently, may seem to you dull: it contains an abstract idea presented without vividness or color. But if you read it aloud slowly several times, you will begin to see that it has a beauty of its own, due almost entirely to the rhythm with which it moves; and that this rhythm is in itself an aid in conveying the idea: Free-heartedness, and graciousness, and undisturbed trust, and requited love, and the sight of the peace of others, and the ministry to their pain; these, and the blue sky above you, and the sweet waters and flowers of the earth beneath; and mysteries and pres- ences, innumerable, of living things, these may yet be here your riches; untormenting and divine; serviceable for the life that now is; nor, it may be, without promise of that which is to come. Ruskin. In the next four sentences, the idea in each case is concrete; but when you read them aloud, you feel as if you were bump- ing along a rutty country road: Andy Gordon was for all his years a weaver in the mills at Glas- tonbury; just an ordinary human stick or stone, as you might call it, doing his mechanical work at the machine like a machine until one day he drew his pay, before you could say Jack Robinson, and started off walking anywhere. A blue-jay, in a cracked crescendo, was attacking the established order of things among birds. READING ALOUD 13 Rosa had died on her knees in the nunnery at the exact time he stabbed yonder picture. The newspapers, chronicling Thorold's appointment briefly, were heavy with harbingering of the funeral procession of the boy who had fallen a fortnight before in the American navy's attack upon Vera Cruz. These sentences were taken almost at random from good modern writers. Reading them aloud shows up many other faults besides defective rhythm. Note, for instance, in the first, the jingle Until one day He drew his pay. In the second, note the mushiness of "cracked crescendo" and "established order." In the third, note the alliteration "on her knees in the nunnery"; and the jingle of "yonder picture." In the last, note the elephantine "chronicling . . . harbingering of the funeral procession"; and the succession of jerks in the last clause: "who had fallen a fortnight be- fore in the American navy's attack upon Vera Cruz." Now compare with the above, for rhythm alone, the follow- ing sentences: She made no sign when Holden entered, because the human soul is a very lonely thing and, when it is getting ready to go away, hides itself in a misty borderland where the living may not follow. Kipling. Footsteps and signs, the tread of regiments marching in the dis- tance, the chink of money in the counting, and the creaking of doors held stealthily ajar, appeared to mingle with the patter of the drops upon the cupola and the gushing of the water in the pipes. Stevenson. Reading aloud, then, is a test of prose as of poetry, but only when it is well done. Under ideal conditions the mechan- ical difficulties have entirely disappeared, and reader and listener form a partnership for re-creating in imagination what the writer's imagination has put into the visible words. Now mechanical difficulties are actual barriers in the way 14 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH of this constructive work. The reader who mispronounces words, who stumbles as to the end of sentences and clauses, and has to go back and repeat portions in order to give the proper intonation for the close, diverts his listener's attention from the meaning of what he is trying to read to his own struggles; and changes interest in the subject-matter to sympathy for his efforts, or to the wish that he would stop. These difficulties can be overcome. The habitual use of the dictionary in cases of doubtful pronunciation will soon give a reasonable sense of security in this respect; and the habit of sending part of the attention forward toward the end of the sentence while the other part is engaged with the be- ginning of keeping the eyes a little ahead of the voice, as it were will gradually eliminate stumbling. Until this balance of attention between what you are reading and what you are going to read has been attained, it is a good plan to read slowly even to pause between sentences long enough for the eyes to take a hasty run ahead to prepare the voice and mind for what is coming. But mechanical obstacles to successful interpretation do not stop here. There are other difficulties which are not so easily overcome, because they grow out of the defects of our speech habits. They have become so much a part of us that even when they are pointed out to us and we recognize them and desire to amend, the process of establishing better habits is necessarily slow. These defects concern enunciation, intonation, and voice production. Because of various climatic and racial and other conditions, into which it is unnecessary to enter here, we Americans have careless speech habits. There are few homes in which English is spoken with any consciousness of its beautiful qualities, or with any consideration of its sound combinations as such; there are probably fewer in which there is any thought given to values of intonation and to voice production. People who speak well do so more by READING ALOUD 15 happy accident of birth and circumstance than by reason of any effort on the part of their parents. Whatever the lower schools have done here and there to correct speech habits, the fact remains that most young people to-day do not speak well; and what is worse they do not know that they do not speak well. Under such circumstances, it seems worth while, at the very beginning of the year, to point out some of the commonest defects, and to suggest as a partial remedy practice under right conditions in reading aloud. Although it is impossible within the limits of this book to enter into the problems of voice production, intonation, and enunciation, this much may be said: A discordant voice, an unpleasant intonation, and defective utterance are more often due to ignorance and inattention than to physical limitations. Consequently, the mere awakening of attention to the need for improvement is often the beginning of im- provement. If your voice is too loud or too weak or too shrill or too husky, the mere effort to make it softer or louder or lower or clearer will produce some result; and persistent effort in this direction will bring about a permanent change if you begin now before the speech habits are set. Most people who talk with a nasal twang are quite unaware of the fact; to become aware of it is to take the first step to elim- inate it, as a little experiment will soon show you. If you talk too rapidly and indistinctly, focussing the attention on the utterance of each sound will be corrective; if you drawl, mere speeding up will give a sharper definition of each sound. In a word, attention turned to the defect so that it is clearly realized, and stress laid on the opposite quality until balance is established, are very simple remedies, which can work great changes in defective and unpleasant speech habits. In the application of both, the frankest criticism of instructors, friends, parents, or anyone else qualified to judge is absolutely essential, both for the initial recognition of the difficulty and for the establishment of better habits. 16 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Most of all is it important to get rid of the idea that it does not matter how you speak. A bad voice, poor enuncia- tion, careless intonation handicap one scarcely less than bad manners and ignorance of social customs. They do so, partly by creating prejudice against the speaker, and partly by making him feel vaguely awkward and ill at ease among people who have command of their utterance. You will find a short list of common faults in enunciation and pronunciation in Appendix V. One more point should perhaps be emphasized. Have you ever considered how closely intonation is associated with character? Intonation means not merely the pitch of the voice but all the modulations by which it is made to express the mental attitude of the speaker. If, for example, you speak habitually in a tone of apology or of deference, what you say will carry little weight; if, on the other hand, you use ha- bitually a tone of arrogance, the effect of your speech may be quite the contrary of what you really intend it may repel instead of convincing. You remember, of course, the cringe in Uriah Heep's voice, the oil in Mr. Chadband's, the whine in Mrs. Gummidge's. Moreover, it is scarcely an exag- geration to say that voice and intonation sometimes affect people as much as the meaning of the words. An extreme example of this is the old story of the woman who wished to prove that no one at a reception listened to a word spoken by anyone else: she made up a grewsome tale of having murdered her husband that morning, and told it with the manner and intonation required for society speeches, and the comments everywhere were to the effect: "How charm- ing!" "How perfectly delightful!" and so on. But in all seriousness, it is true that the quiet, confident intonation of a voice properly pitched so that it will penetrate without irritating often does more to persuade and to con- trol than the most effective combinations of words badly spoken by a person with an unpleasant voice and an in- READING ALOUD 17 tonation that creates the wrong sort of response within the listener. The sum of the whole matter is that if you wish your use of spoken English to be fully effective, you cannot begin too soon to consider your faults of utterance, or strive too ear- nestly to overcome them. You will find from contact with the world that the man who not merely has something to say but can also say it unusually well has in himself a source of great power. The following poem requires no dramatic effort, no elocu- tion; the more simply it is given, the more it will appeal. It needs only to be read with a sense of the values of sound, that is, with clear and correct utterance of every sound that is intended to be pronounced, whether this occurs in an accented or in an unaccented syllable, without slurring over or running together of sounds or syllables, and with pauses where they belong. Before you begin, remember the follow- ing points: Oxford = Ox-ford, not Ox-furd; pearl = purl, not poil; fast is not fast; gol-den is not gol'n; col-le-ges is not col-li- juz; care-less is not care-luss; riv-er is not riv'r; mer-ry is not mur-ry; gentle-men not gen'lem'n; instead is not in-stid, etc. These are only some of the common mispronunciations due to sheer carelessness. THE SPIRES OF OXFORD I saw the spires of Oxford As I was passing by The gray spires of Oxford, Against a pearl-gray sky. My heart was with the Oxford men Who went abroad to die. The years go fast in Oxford, The golden years and gay. The hoary colleges look down On careless boys at play. But when the bugles sounded war They put their games away. 18 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH They left the peaceful river, The cricket-field, the quad, The shaven lawns of Oxford To seek a bloody sod They gave their merry youth away For country and for God. God rest you, happy gentlemen, Who laid your good lives down, Who took the khaki and the gun Instead of cap and gown. God bring you to a fairer place Than even Oxford town. Winifred M. Letts After the poem has been read until it is familiar, discuss it along the lines suggested by the following questions: 1. Is there a single word or phrase in the poem that might not be found in prose? Then what gives poetical quality to the lines? 2. Do you get a picture of Oxford? Which phrases are most definitely pictorial? In what colors do they paint the picture? Can you find a view of Oxford that illustrates the first two lines? 3. What features of university life are mentioned? Can you enlarge upon these hints and show how English university life differs from our own? 4. Do you know a Christmas carol that contains a line very like the first line of the last stanza? What is the difference? Was the change necessary? Why? Does this reminiscence of old English tradition help to give atmosphere to the poem? 5. What other phrases suggest a place that is very old and rich in traditions? How is the character of life at Oxford used for con- trast? 6. What lines or phrases are especially musical? What com- binations of sound produce this musical effect? Do any lines or phrases seem to you unmusical? 7. Does the style of the poem seem to you suited to the nature of its content? Can you choose among the following adjectives any that seem to you to sum up best the qualities of the poem? If not, find the right adjectives: simple; sincere; pensive; austere; musical; atmospheric; passionate; suggestive; elusive; pictorial; graceful; haunt- ing; commonplace; unassuming. READING ALOUD 19 ASSIGNMENT 1. Find and bring to class a poem on some phase of the War that seems to you good enough for reading and discussion. You may find it in a magazine, or in collections of poems by such writers as Rupert Brooke, Alan Seeger, Amelia Burr, John Drinkwater, John Masefield, W. W. Gibson. There are many good collections of war poetry. The following are among the best: Clarke, A Treasury of War Poetry; Cunliffe, Poems of the Great War; Osborn, The Muse in Arms; Wheeler, Fifes and Drums. Go to your college library or periodical room, and explore for at least two hours before you make your choice. Ask the attendant in charge to make sugges- tions. Do not be satisfied until you have found a poem that really appeals to you; and do not be disturbed if, after class dis- cussion, you are obliged to change your mind about it that is, if you find that it will not bear examination. 2. Learn Miss Letts 's poem so that it becomes a permanent pos- session; or if you succeed in finding another War poem that appeals to you much more strongly, and you are able to maintain your opinion after class discussion, learn that poem. For further practice of this kind, the following poems are sug- gested: Moody's " Song of Pandora" in The Fire-Bringer, beginning, "I stood within the heart of God"; Lanier's "A Ballad of Trees and their Master"; Gibson's "Geraniums"; Yeats's "The Lake Isle of Innisfree." CHAPTER in USE OF THE LIBRARY WITH The Spires of Oxford in mind, read the following pas- sage from Matthew Arnold's Culture and Anarchy: Oxford, the Oxford of the past, has many faults; and she has heavily paid for them in defeat, in isolation, in want of hold upon the modern world. Yet we in Oxford, brought up amidst the beauty and sweetness of that beautiful place, have not failed to seize one truth, the truth that beauty and sweetness are essential characters of a complete human perfection. When I insist on this, I am all in the faith and tradition of Oxford. I say boldly that this our sentiment for beauty and sweetness, our sentiment against hideousness and rawness, has been at the bottom of our attachment to so many beaten causes, of our opposition to so many triumphant movements. And the sentiment is true, and has never been wholly defeated, and has shown its power even in its defeat. We have not won our political battles, we have not carried our main points, we have not stopped our adversaries' advance, we have not marched victoriously with the modern world; but we have told silently upon the mind of the country, we have prepared currents of feeling which sap our adversaries' position when it seems gained, we have kept up our own communications with the future. Do you see why the prose paragraph has been quoted in connection with the poem? What criticisms must have been made upon Oxford to warrant Arnold's defense? Show that the poem is likewise a defense of the spirit of the University. Add any facts that you may happen to know about the part of university men in the War and in public service generally. Taking the prose and verse together, can you understand the depth and richness of the appeal that Oxford makes to her students? Few of us here in America have personal associations with Oxford; but through literature it has be- 20 USE OF THE LIBRARY 21 come not only familiar but dear to cultivated people every- where. And because the name of Oxford is so charged with emotional associations, the bare mention of it in the prose and verse quoted above awakens in the mind old impressions of beauty and delight. In this appeal, then, of the subject lies part of the charm of both the poetry and the prose. Needless to say, this charm would have been lost if the treat- ment had been out of tone with the quality of the subject if, for instance, it had been florid, that is, over-decorated, or aggressive, or blatant, or in any way vulgar or in bad taste. But what, you may ask, does all this mean to me? There are two ways, as we have seen, in which the intellec- tual treasury of men can be enriched by emotional associa- tions: one is by experience of life; the other, by experience of literature and of art in all its forms. It is because of this power to contribute richly to the mental life where actual experience is limited or entirely impossible, that literature and with it should be associated art is preeminently worth while among studies. The Oxford poem appeals to us through its presentation of the idea that careless boys have left their life at the university, so crowded with interest and play, in response to the call of a high ideal of duty; and it emphasizes the fact that the very beauty and joy of their life at Oxford and the weight of noble tradition associated with the place have been largely responsible for their unhesitating and gen- erous response to the ideal. Matthew Arnold, in a very differ- ent fashion, also declares that the spirit of Oxford always maintains the ideal a plea which the poem in turn illustrates most concretely. And what Oxford does directly for her own students, she does vicariously for all students who, knowing her only through literature, find in their own universities something of her spirit. Whether your own college be one which has behind it a mass of traditions suggestive of, if not comparable to, the traditions of Oxford, or whether it be a new college which 22 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH has not yet had time to build up fine cultural traditions of its own, there is one part of it which will supply to you in an unfailing stream the same spirit and the same ideals; that is the library. Wherever any considerable number of books is brought together, you are sure to find among them a sufficient number of the great books of the world to make that library a source of inspiration and guidance to you if you will use it properly. There are two profitable things to do with a library. One is to browse; that is, to pick up the books that attract your eye, to read in them as long as you are interested, and to drop them when your curiosity is satisfied. In this way you will find the things that belong to you; you will gradually assim- ilate a multitude of impressions and ideas, of experiences which have been lived and phrased by other men; and all these will grow into and form a part of your personality. The second use to be made of a library is to control its re- sources. To do this you must train yourself so that you can tell in a moment whether or not it contains what you wish to know about a particular subject; so that, without waste of time and energy, you can collect and organize such material as it has to give. These two ways of reading are diametrically opposed and supplementary to each other. In browsing you give the freeest possible play to your own tastes and interests, and are governed by no laws but those of chance or the associa- tion of ideas; but in gaining control of the resources of a library you must subordinate your personal inclinations to impersonal system, or you will fail. It has been found by long experience that there is one best way to master a library; and this way you must learn and practise if you would ever feel otherwise than helpless in the presence of a large number of books. In browsing you must go to the shelves in order that one book may suggest another; but it is obvious that you would USE OF THE LIBRARY 23 need a lifetime to learn in this way the range of a large library. The short cut is the alphabetically indexed card catalogue. The best catalogues, as a rule, combine author and subject index in a. system rigidly alphabetical. In order, then, to find a particular book, you may look under the author's name. If you do not know this, you may look under the title. If you do not know this, you may look under the gen- eral subject covered by the book. Under one of these head- ings you can tell in a few moments the resources of any library on any subject. For instance, you should find under Oxford, as well as under the names of authors and titles of books, all that your library has on this subject. But as librarians are not infallible, and card indexes are not without fault, you should know other means of getting at the resources of a library when these fail you. Suppose, for example, that your catalogue has nothing listed under Oxford, or under Universities, and suppose that you know of no books on the subject, what can you do? Turn first to two general reference books: a good encyclopedia and The Reader's Guide. The latest edition of the best encyclopedia available will give you in condensed form in- formation on almost any subject; and at the end of each important article, it will name some of the best authorities on the subject. If, then, you turn to the volume containing Oxford, you can probably get from the references at the end of the article a list of authors who have written on that sub- ject, and the titles of their books. Under one or both of these heads you will probably find such books as your library contains on the subject; or if you have further difficulty, you will know what to look for on the shelves. If your subject is not important enough for a special article in the ency- clopedia, you can find in the index volume of that work references to such material as it contains. For the great mass of material published in periodicals, there are special indexes in which both subjects and authors 24 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH are arranged alphabetically. These enable you to keep in touch with current literature. They do not include techni- cal and scientific journals; but they are invaluable as far as they go. 1 Let us suppose that you have ordered several books on Oxford, and have obtained them. How are you going to apply "system" to the process of using them? Clearly you cannot read even one book from first to last at a sitting; and even if you could, the others might be more interesting or more valuable for your purpose. You should begin, then, by comparing them; and the quickest and most satisfactory way to do this, is by reading the table of contents of each. From these you can tell in a moment the general scope and char- acter of each book, and so judge which is most likely to give you what you wish to know about the subject. Let us be more specific. What do you wish to know about Oxford? The poem refers to the "gray spires." To form a mental image of these, you must know something about the architecture of Oxford. Note the book and chapter or chap- ters which will tell you about this. The poem refers to "hoary colleges." How many "colleges" are there in an English university? Here is something different from our universities. Which table of contents has a chapter or more on the "colleges" of Oxford? The third stanza of the poem touches upon the outdoor life; turn again to your tables of contents for this subject. But it is possible that your tables of contents are not sufficiently detailed to show whether the book contains a certain feature or not. Then turn to the index. It is always well to supplement the general survey of a book by means of its table of contents with some trying out of its index. Now you are ready to begin to read. But reading is only 1 Of these the most useful are: The Reader s Guide (which, however, does not include some of the best English literary journals), known before 1900 as Poole's Index to Periodical Literature, and the Annual Magazine Subject Index (including the Dramatic Index). USE OF THE LIBRARY 25 the half of systematic library work; the other half is note- taking. To take notes successfully, you must provide your- self with the proper materials; and you must take your notes in proper form. For specific directions on both these points, see Appendix II. These should be followed with exactitude as regards the purchase of materials, and referred to upon every occasion of doing library work until the habit of cor- rectness and completeness in the form of the notes has be- come established. You may not at this point realize the importance of system as applied to the form of notes, but if you once allow yourself to become unsystematic in this respect, you will later find great difficulty in correcting your tendencies to carelessness; and bad habits, if persisted in, will lead to an incalculable waste of time and energy in the organization of material, which might have been avoided by systematic note-taking. With this caution, let us proceed to the actual business of reading and taking notes about Oxford in order to gain in some degree the background of knowledge necessary for thorough appreciation of the literature about it that we have been discussing. You have singled out by means of the tables of contents certain chapters, and by means of the indexes, certain pages. How are these to be read? Con- secutively? By no means. For perfect reading of the poem and the eulogy, one would endeavor to bring into consciousness every word as it stood in its context, rich with implications of experience, and taking color from the interplay of phrasing; one would try to re-create with the imagination on the basis of one's own experience what these authors had first lived and felt and afterward created into art. But now with your Oxford books before you, and your packet of cards or slips at hand, you are entering upon an entirely different process; you are reading for information. That you must later build this information up into a part of 26 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH your consciousness if it is to be worth anything to you, is quite another matter; at present, the point is, how to get it. The best general rule in reading for information is to skip all that does not concern your purpose; and to digest the re- mainder. It is no more desirable that you should try to re- member every idea in a chapter or on a page than that you should try to eat every article of food set before you on a table. You take merely what you need and wish; and this you digest and assimilate. If you begin to read for informa- tion, as many conscientious students do, with the idea that you must give some attention to every one of the four hun- dred words on a page, and every one of the four thousand words in a chapter, you will soon find that you have not enough attention to go round. The result of an hour or two of this process will be nothing but mental fatigue and a confused blur of impressions that fade with the effort to reproduce them. The situation is rather this. You are not reading for in- formation hi general; you are reading to find a particular fact or group of facts. Consequently, your mind should pass lightly over all that is not relative to its search, and swoop like a hungry hawk upon everything on any page that is associated with the quest in hand. In such reading as this there is a distinct art the art not so much of skipping what is irrelevant, though that is in- volved, as the art of hunting for what you need. In this process your attention must be turned two ways at once: it must hold steadily before it the object of the reading, and it must be perpetually alert, as the eye moves down the page and from page to page, to grasp every sentence that con- tributes to this end, and to neglect all others. Your object in reading may be, as was suggested above, to isolate a particular phase of a subject for use in another connection for example, the Bodleian Library or it may be to assimilate as many as you can of a group of associated USE OF THE LIBRARY 27 facts about some complex aspect of the subject as the his- tory of the foundation of the various colleges at Oxford. In the first case, the danger is that the attention will wan- der from the quest into interesting byways, and neglect to come back to the point; that is, that your method of reading may insensibly change into the browsing process. In this there is no harm except when you do not get what you are seeking. To obviate this trouble, a simple plan is to note on a card the subject that you are looking for, and to keep this card in so prominent a position that even if you are led astray for a time by the interest of other subjects, you do not forget to come back to the point. In the second case, where you are trying to assimilate a sequence of facts, it is a good plan to keep the sequence be- fore you by jotting down on cards a point on a card each heading that is given in the text as a page heading, a par- agraph heading, or a side note, or that suggests itself to your mind as summing up a considerable portion of matter. By making these cards as you read, you will do much toward fixing in your mind the most important parts of the printed matter before you. Your chief difficulty at first will be to pass over every- thing that is not wanted, and to miss nothing that is wanted. To do this you must train yourself in two ways: To read by phrases, rather than by words; and to see at a glance whether a page contains material for your purpose. To read by phrases instead of words, you must increase your speed in the mechanical process of reading of passing the eyes over the words. The best way to do this is to time yourself. How rapidly can you read a page of a novel with- out consciously skipping a word? Make tests and compare notes. Whatever your speed is, the chances are that it can be increased. A page a minute is a very moderate rate of reading. You should not stop short of this. The effect of increasing your rate of speed will be to make you grasp more 28 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH and more words as a unit; and you will learn, with the aid of punctuation, to keep together those that function together in the sentence. To recognize at a glance whether or not a page contains material that belongs to your present purpose in reading is a somewhat different process. It involves first a hasty sweep of the page as a whole, to see if there are headlines or side- notes which sum up its content. If so, the practiced reader knows at once whether to stop or to go on. If no such guides are present, he can usually tell from the opening of a paragraph whether or not it is likely to contain anything to the point. Men who consult many books find it unnecessary even to read sentences in order to know what is on the page as a whole: the words that embody the chief ideas jump up, as it were, to meet their attention; these ideas are at once tested in the light of what is already familiar, and dropped or absorbed, as the case may require. In this way the skilled reader may often learn in a few moments whether pages or even chapters of a book, which according to the table of contents and the index concern the subject in hand, have really anything to contribute to his knowledge or not. At first, of course, you will make many mistakes : you will skip the wrong things; you will miss many points. To return to the figure of the hawk: your mind may go hungry at first because it swoops on stones, mistaking them for food; but this is better than trying to eat everything in sight and so acquiring a permanent mental indigestion and an enduring nausea for reading in all its forms. Unless you learn to read rapidly and by phrase-units, and unless you acquire the habit of instaneous recognition of what is new and to your purpose in a great mass of facts, your mind will move after the fashion of the squirrel running round the cylinder in his cage. You may become very famil- iar with what you do know; but you will never know much. An important practical question in connection with library USE OF THE LIBRARY 29 work is: How long shall it be continued without interruption? The answer to this depends upon the individual; but it will be determined by answering a further question: How long can I concentrate? Concentration means focusing upon the work in hand the full power of the mind so that it is absolutely inattentive to everything outside. Half an hour of active focusing upon a book is worth half a day of turning pages and merely gleaning ideas as they force themselves upon the at- tention. The way to get results in library work is to focus as long as you can that is, until your attention begins to wan- der and then to interrupt or change your work for a few moments until your mind recovers its elasticity. As con- centration is aided by getting the right physical conditions, a quiet corner, an upright posture, elbow room and proper materials for note-taking, so the necessary relief between periods of concentration is secured often merely by rising to get another book, or to consult the catalogue, or to take a breath of air. The results of alternating periods of working at your best with moments of relief are incomparably better than long hours of steady sitting over books. ASSIGNMENT 1. Prepare notes to be used in class discussion of the resem- blances and differences between English and American university life. The following books, in addition to references in The Reader's Guide, will furnish you material: Thomas, Edward, and Fulleylove, John, Oxford. Corbin, John, An American at Oxford. Wells, J., Oxford and its Colleges. Wells, J., Oxford and Oxford Life. Thompson, A. H., Cambridge and its Colleges. Firth, J. B., The Minstrelsy of Isis: An Anthologij of All Poems Relating to Oxford, and All Phases of Oxford Life. Mackenzie, Compton, Youth's Encounter. 2. Write a statement in about 300 words of your difficulties and problems in connection with library work. Notes should be com- pared and discussed in class with a view to finding suggestions as to better methods and habits of work. CHAPTER IV USE OF THE DICTIONARY A child learning to read sees blind black scratches and dots on a white background, and wonders at the stupid senseless things; but the grown man sees neither scratches nor dots. He does not see the letters at all. They have become transparent, and he sees through them to the things which they indicate. Edward Carpenter. But does he? He sees of course words. But what is a word? The French critic Taine discusses the question how it is that black scratches on paper can be made to represent or explain one man's experience of life to another: By what miracle do three letters make you see a donkey (French, ane), and five letters a dog (French, ckien)? The reason is that while there are some words which are dead and dry, such as phil- osophical terms and ciphers, others there are which are as living as the vibrations of a violin, or the tones of a picture. Or rather, in the beginning they are all alive and, so to speak, charged with sensations, as a young bud is full of sap; it is only in the course of their growth, and after a long period of transformations that they begin to fade, to stiffen and end by becoming bits of dead wood. But do we deal with words in this vital way? For most of us, according to Taine : Words take the place of the images that they indicate, and most of the time they do not evoke these images. When we read, and even when we think, we do not see behind each word the corre- sponding image. The word alone is in our minds, a dry, algebraic sign which suffices for us because it is understood and familiar, and because we know that we can at any moment replace it by the image. But as long as this evocation is not made, there can be no original thought, no creative work. . . . Now consider this: the fitting of the images and ideas in our minds to the words that will most completely carry USE OF THE DICTIONARY 31 these images and ideas to other minds is the first step in sentence-building; and the sentence is the smallest unit in the expression of thought: the Latin sententia means a thought. Then before you can make any headway in speak- ing and writing you must acquire words and learn how to use them. By far the best way to do this is to read much and widely, and with your mind alert to grasp not only every new word but every new shade of meaning given to a familiar word by its context. This method, however, is the process of a lifetime; it cannot be hurried; it is never at an end. The best single aid to the mastery of words is the intelligent use of the dictionary. This does not cannot take the place of the quest for words through reading; but it sup- plements this. It is a sort of mental First Aid, or Present Help; it keeps the wolf from the door when the vocabulary cupboard is empty. The reading of the dictionary is, more- over, the source of a distinct and peculiar pleasure a pleasure which even educated people do not always ap- preciate. The first rule for the use of the dictionary is: Choose a good one. Unquestionably the best of all is the still incomplete New English Dictionary, which is being pub- lished in many volumes by the Clarendon Press at Oxford. This is really a series of little biographies of words; it tells all that any reasonable person could desire to know about the origin, history, and associations of a word, and enriches its explanations with many plums of quotations. But this is an expensive work and not always available; and the next in desirability are the New International, the Standard, and the Century. If these are beyond your means, you should purchase either Webster's Collegiate Dictionary or the Standard of corresponding size. To do this is most important, as the second rule for the dictionary is: Have it always at hand. The wise student may 32 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH even go so far as to buy also a pocket dictionary for emer- gencies; but no pocket dictionary is sufficiently accurate or detailed to take the place of the larger work. But what is the "intelligent use of the dictionary?" People who stop reading to look up every word that they do not fully understand are as rare as saints. It is only when readers come face to face with a word that conveys no mean- ing whatever that they will some of them if there is a dic- tionary within easy reach turn to it for explanation. Sup- pose you read: Shakerly hurled the palimpsest upon which he had just wasted a small fortune in Dodson's face, ejaculating: "Fraud!" Dodson, his left eye bleeding from a cut where the sharp edge struck him, crumpled it up and threw it into the fire. This passage would probably drive you to the dictionary, to find out what kind of missile could be a fraud, could cost a fortune, could cut an eye, and could be crumpled up and burned. If you look up the word palimpsest in your dic- tionary, you will find something like this: A parchment, tablet, etc., which has been used two or more times, the earlier writing being erased. The derivation is given as from two Greek words which mean to rub and again. How much idea does this give you of the meaning of this word? Why should the parch- ment have been used two or three times? Why does the definition say parchment and not paper? Why was the writing erased? Who erased it and who wrote on the parch- ment again? Obviously, the word palimpsest is rich with associations and implications that cannot be explained in a small dictionary. In such a case as this, then, you must either go to a large dictionary, or leave the passage only partly understood, and be yourself the poorer for not knowing an important and curious fact in literary history. An extraordinary word of this type is sometimes worth a USE OF THE DICTIONARY 33 special visit to the library in order to consult the Oxford Dictionary, which, you may be sure, will give you vital and sufficient information. A third rule for using the dictionary is : Learn its system. Read with care its preface and table of contents. You will see that it will supplement your imperfect knowledge of spelling, pronunciation, and capitals; that it will brush up your shabby grammar; that it will give the etymology of words, definitions of them, and to some extent illustrations of their proper use; that it will supply lists of synonyms or words nearly equivalent in meaning, and explain briefly the chief differences between words that convey almost the same ideas; that it will show you how derivatives are formed from root words; that it will teach you which words are slang, obsolete, archaic, or colloquial, in order that you may be warned against using them without consideration of their effect; and that where explanations in words may not give a sufficient idea of the thing defined, it will often add a picture of the thing itself. Moreover, you will find that its informa- tion is not limited to typical and universal things and ideas, but that it includes also lists of proper names which stand for individual persons and places, and gives the fundamental facts about them. And finally, you will see in it a glossary of common phrases borrowed from foreign languages, and a list of abbreviations in common use among printers and writers. Before you begin to work with any dictionary, you should make yourself familiar with its methods of presenting in- formation. You should, for instance, look for the table of abbreviations of which it makes use, or you will not be able to understand in some cases information given in abbreviated form. Can you, for example, say offhand what is meant by the following: W., Skr., perh., p.a., Com., com., Ex., exc., g., G., incho., I.e., NGr.? Again, you must understand the diacritic marks, or you will not be able to pronounce according 34 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH to instructions. You should also understand why the forms and the meanings stand in a given order. Meanings are in some dictionaries arranged in their his- torical order, so that we can trace the development of the word from its origin down to its most recent uses; in others the meanings are arranged in the order of their importance, the commonest being placed first. These points should not be forgotten in looking up the meaning of a word. And, as was said before, it is most important to look for such char- acterizations of a word as Slang, Archaic, obs. or obsoles., colloq., dial., etc., if you would learn to know words not as mere combinations of letters, but as beings rich with associa- tions of all kinds, and alive with infinite possibilities. A fourth rule for the use of the dictionary is : Take your time. If in looking up a new word you are content with a hasty glance at the first meaning, the chances are great that you will soon have to look up the same word again, partly because you did not learn the range of its meanings, and partly because you did not dwell long enough upon even the one meaning for the impression to remain. Moreover, the awakening of surprise or interest as you explore into the origin and associations of a word, and note curious details about its history or use, will be a great aid in so fixing a word in your memory that it will offer itself when you have use for it. When you can afford to do so, you should take the time to look up a word in all its bearings: spelling, pronunciation, origin, history, changes in meaning and range of meanings, associations and character, and synonyms, perhaps even some grammatical peculiarity connected with it. In this kind of work you will do well to form the habit of using both the unabridged and abridged dictionaries. For simple, common words, to which the unabridged dictionaries give much space because of historical or dialectical usage, you will find the smaller dictionary ample; and the complexity of the larger work may only confuse you. But for unusually interesting USE OF THE DICTIONARY 35 words, even when the smaller dictionary gives adequate definitions of them, you will find in the larger dictionary a wealth of curious fact and illustration that will tend to make such words your own forever. A leisurely attitude in dictionary work has the further advantage that it gives the eye a chance to glean by the way. As you skim the page headings, looking for the alphabetical combination that will guide you to your word, if your atten- tion is attracted by a strange word, do you take a moment to gratify your curiosity about it? The habit of doing so is an invaluable asset to anyone who would write. It serves to store up innumerable words which gradually pass from the conscious to the subconscious mind, where they may live for years and then suddenly pop back into consciousness when the mind is calling for what they can supply. The explana- tion of this fact lies in the theory that the mind does not really forget even when it seems to forget that an impression once registered may lie in darkness for years and be called into light by some chance association of ideas. For this reason it is worth while to take the time whenever you can to register impressions of the words which arouse a momentary curiosity as you pass them by. Here, for instance, is a list of page headings taken at random: crampon; feldspathic; fencible; gripple; lich gate; parbuckle; trepang; zymotic do you know the meanings of these? Each of them might be useful in speech or writing some day. ASSIGNMENT 1. Prepare notes in proper form, for use in class discussion, on the arrangement of the dictionary that you intend to use in con- nection with your English work. 2. Spend half an hour glancing at the page headings of this dic- tionary, and jotting down the words that attract your attention there, and seem to you worth remembering. See how many you can collect in that time. Put with each its fundamental meaning, unless you are sure that you can remember this. 36 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. Note on cards the most interesting facts that you can find about twenty or more of the following words. Use the best dic- tionary available, and use a card for each word: alcohol; amazon; amethyst; antics; antimacassar; baccalaureate; banal; bane; barbarian; biscuit; bizarre; blackguard; boycott; brat; burly; cabal; crone; curfew; cynic; dismal; doff and don; dunce; echo; galvanize; good-bye; gossip; Gothic; grotesque; heliotrope; humor; hyacinth; impediment; jerry- built; jersey; knave; labyrinth; lunatic; lute; melancholy; pagan; philopena; pianoforte; posy; sandwich; silly; sincere; soldier; soph- omore; spinster; stoical; tantalize; tawdry; titanic; tribulation; tulip; turquoise; umbrella; villain; volcano; volt. 4. Explore your librarj' for answers to the following questions: How many words are there in the English language? How many of these are used by the average uneducated man? by the average college man? How many were used by Shakespeare? by any other writer of note? From what languages are English words derived? What types of words were contributed by Latin? Greek? French? Dutch? Arabic? Work out this idea as fully as you can. How are new words formed to-day? Find examples of words recently formed from the names of men; from the names of newly invented things; in other ways. 5. Make notes for class discussion of the following subjects: Have you the right to make new words as you need them? Has a newspaper the right? Has an author of established reputation? Who has such a right? What conditions should be attached to the formation of new words? CHAPTER V GOOD FORM THE value of good form in writing appears from the follow- ing story. Several years ago, a banker was shown a hundred letters written by college graduates, and was asked which of the writers he would consider as possible applicants for a position. He threw aside with a mere glance more than two- thirds of them. Why? Because the letters were in bad form, badly written, badly capitalized, badly punctuated, badly spelled, and not free from bad faults in grammar. Of the thirty remaining, only three or four could have been graded above eighty per cent. This banker was not looking for graces of style; but he was alert to the value of a decent degree of correctness in form. He knew that good form in writing, like good address in speech, opens the way to success in dealing with men. For this reason alone, it is well to have a very high standard in all the externalities of speech and of writing. As in speech, pronunciation, enunciation, intonation, voice, gesture, man- ner, take part in the successful conduct of life, so in writing, the choice of paper, pen, and ink, the arrangement of the pages and of the writing on the page, the punctuation, cap- italization, spelling, and grammar, enter into the reader's judgment of the product far more widely than the student sometimes believes. But it is one thing to realize the importance of perfection in form; quite another, to attain it. As soon as you begin to think about good form, you become acutely afraid of stepping on the toes of some unsuspected rule. How are confidence and ease to be gained? Simply by living always at least 37 38 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH throughout freshman English! with two watchwords: Attention, and Habit. Attention is fundamental, because you have doubtless for some years been magnificently inattentive to these trifles, or you would not now be having difficulty with them. Habit is fundamental, because you should have formed habits in your childhood which would now be as natural as your ways of eating and drinking, and because unless you begin at once to form such habits, you will all your days either be handicapped by your errors, or burdened with rules and miserable in never being sure that you have remembered them all. Attention corrects many faults by a single and momentary focusing of the mind on a particular point of literary eti- quette or a single unsuspected lapse from good taste. For instance, if you read now that you will create prejudice against yourself by using cheap paper, which makes blots, lined paper, which suggests that you need guidance to write straight, perfumed or tinted paper, which attracts attention to itself, gilt-edged paper, or paper stamped with a gilt initial or some other cheap or showy ornament, which suggests in you a love of cheap finery if you read this once, the chances are great that you will never offend good taste in any of these respects. Nor will you wish to suggest poverty by using paper and envelopes that do not match, or by writing on torn half sheets ; or lack of courtesy by using faded or cheap ink that strains your correspondent's eyes; or bad taste by using gaudy ink that suggests to his imagination a person of barbaric ties or ribbons. Further, if you have had to read many letters written in pencil, you will see the advisability of using ink whenever you can. Finally, a bare hint should suffice to make you seek out the kind of pen that suits your way of writing. A pen that scratches and digs into the paper, or one that blots at un- GOOD FORM 39 suspected intervals, is a source of torture to the writer and of irritation or amusement to the reader. All such matters are easily disposed of by a single sugges- tion. But principles of spelling, problems in punctuation, usage in grammar, must be dealt with first by calling atten- tion to them, and then by establishing the habit of invariable correctness in one case after another until all have been mastered. The main features of good form in writing are the follow- ing: 1. The proper preparation of the manuscript, the size and arrangement and numbering of pages, spacing on the page, including margins and indentions, and penmanship; 2. The proper use of capitals and italics; 3. Correct spelling; 4. Intelligent punctuation; 5. Observance of grammar and idiom. In this chapter your attention will be called to the essentials of all these aspects of good form; in the Appendix, pp. 413ff., you will be given full details. There each paragraph will be numbered and indexed, so that when you are in doubt as you write a paper, you can quickly turn to specific information on the point in question; and similarly, a marginal number used by the instructor to indicate an error will at once put you in the way of correcting it. In regard to the mechanical features of writing, the one rule to be followed is: Conform to custom. In the case of a personal letter, be guided by the best social usage; in the case of a business letter, imitate the practice of the leading busi- ness houses; in the case of a manuscript, keep to the conven- tions established by editors. For specific directions see Appendix I. The use of capital letters to-day is a very simple matter. Formerly they were inserted freely at any point in the sen- tence, whenever an abstract idea was personified (see any 40 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH long poem of the eighteenth century), or when emphasis was desired (see any page of Carlyle). To-day the tendency is to use as few as possible. They, however, serve two distinct purposes. First, they are a means of punctuation. They separate (1) thought from thought when they begin sentences; and (2) rhythm from rhythm when they begin lines of verse. Second, they are a means of individualization; they separate an individual from the class, or a group regarded as a unit on the basis of some common quality or qualities from a larger class. Thus: John Smith is an individual to be distinguished from the class man. Cubists are to be distinguished from the larger class artists. If you remember always to apply the test whether your word identifies an individual, or merely refers to him as any member of a class, you will have no difficulty in the use of capitals. In cases of doubt refer to Appendix III. Italics have two general uses. As an alternative to quota- tion marks, they separate small portions of text from the surrounding matter for the sake of clearness; they are a form of punctuation. Thus they distinguish the title of a book, or the name of a ship, from the name of an individual; and they show quotation of a word or short group of words. For details of these uses see Appendix III. Second, they are used for emphasis. In this use they are limited mainly to highly emotional dialogue, and even there should be used sparingly. In all other writing the structure and order of the sentence should throw upon each word the degree of em- phasis that it ought to bear. You may be surprised to hear that spelling can be taught. Some of you may even flatter yourselves that you belong to that interesting class of persons who "cannot learn to spell." You are quite mistaken: there is no such class outside the insane asylum. If you have not yet learned to spell, you should begin at once to do so by applying in special ways the GOOD FORM 41 two watchwords suggested above: Attention and Habit. With a good dictionary at hand, there is no reason why, even when you are in the process of learning what should have been learned some years ago, you should not write papers that are practically perfect in this respect. But although the dic- tionary is an invaluable staff to lean upon in time of need, it is also something of a burden to carry about. The worst speller can gradually train himself to be independent of it; and if he aims to avoid the appearance of illiteracy, he will have no peace of mind until he has done so. Correct spelling depends fundamentally upon accuracy of observation. If, when you first see a word, you look at it carefully enough and long enough to get its entire formation into your mind, the chances are great that you will never misspell it. But if you get a half-impression, and begin to form the habit of misspelling a word, you will have difficulty with that word for some time. Such words as practice (noun), practise (verb), weird, ecstasy, acquiescence, conscience, may have to be looked up scores of times in the dictionary if you have allowed yourself to begin wrong with them. But, you may say, I have already begun wrong with a long list of words; my problem now is how to get them right, and how to avoid similar mistakes with new words in the future. It is too late to take spelling over again. What is the short cut to improvement? Improvement may be made to begin at once by following a very simple plan. Buy an indexed pocket notebook, and enter in it from day to day words that you find yourself habitually misspelling. Study Appendix IV, section by sec- tion, and copy from it into your notebook words that seem to resist mastery. Copy only a few at a time. From this notebook choose a word at a time, and by a deliberate act of attention, look at it as if you had never seen it before; if practicable, spell it aloud slowly, so that you have time to realize the presence of each letter. Then write 42 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH it correctly again and again; cover a page with it, writing without a pause; if you can, spell it aloud as you write. Underline, as you write, the part of the word in which your error occurs. Repeat this process for five minutes at a time, if necessary every day for a week, or until you know that you can never misspell this word again. Take, for example, the much-abused word separate. Look at a line of it with the a emphasized : separate separate separate separate sep- arate separate. Do you need to see it many more times, or to write it many times, before you realize that the letter be- tween p and r is an a? Yet this is one of the words most fre- quently misspelled. Practically, you will find that in very many cases you will not need to use the drastic measures outlined above, more than once or twice. If you think you have learned a word, and later find yourself misspelling it, you have only to repeat the process as if you had never performed it before. As soon as you have learned a word, cross it off your list. Keep adding to and taking away from your notebook; keep the words moving, if you would make any real progress. Write your words in odd moments of waiting on the train or car, at the station, during the few moments before class or before meals. If you feel that this is hard to do, remember that the alternative is lifelong exposure to the unjust sus- picion of illiteracy. But suppose you habitually misspell words without know- ing that they are wrong? Suppose you have literally no standard by which to judge correctness? Then, obviously, you must get one. However eccentric the spelling of English words may seem at times, it is actually based upon rules which, together with their exceptions, can be learned. In Appendix IV you will find these rules for the formation of words, together with examples of both rules and exceptions. You will find also classified groups of words which are often confused with other similar words. By memorizing and prac- GOOD FORM 43 tising these, a few at a time, there is no reason why you should not eliminate every kind of fault in the course of the work in freshman English. The focusing of attention sharply upon . a single word at a time, and the persistent effort to form a correct habit in regard to that word, and the continual pro- gression from one word to another in the indexed notebook, however slow the process may be, cannot fail to lead to the mastery of spelling. It is probable that you have some trouble with punctua- tion. You may not belong to the class of people who habit- ually forget to put a period at the end of a statement, or to supply the second pair of quotation marks at the end of a quotation; and still you may not realize that the semicolon is a useful compromise between the comma and the period, or that the fate of a nation may hang upon the insertion or omission of a comma. Do you, for instance, immediately see which of the following notices for the Bulletin Board would be most certainly for your advantage? ALL FRESHMEN, WHO HAVE DONE UNUSUALLY GOOD WORK IN ENGLISH THIS TERM, ARE EXCUSED FROM EXAMINATION. ALL FRESHMEN WHO HAVE DONE UNUSUALLY GOOD WORK IN ENGLISH THIS TERM ARE EXCUSED FROM EXAMINATION. Punctuation, in general, is a printer's device for grouping thoughts that belong together and separating them from other thoughts. The division of a book into parts, chapters, sections,' and paragraphs is as much punctuation as the use of certain marks to show the end of the sentence, whereas the division into pages is purely mechanical. Punctuation marks correspond to the manipulation of the breath and voice in speech. You are never in doubt as to when a spoken sen- tence is interrogatory; but a written sentence may be so phrased that only the question mark at the end shows how 44 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH it is to be taken. When the mark is omitted, the reader has no guide. Punctuation marks are of two kinds: variable and inva- riable. Errors in invariable punctuation are due to mere carelessness, and are if they are habitual inexcusable. The marks used for invariable punctuation may be summed up as follows : 1. Some mark to show the end of every sentence; 2. A period after every non-exclamatory assertion; 3. A question mark after every direct question; 4. Some device to show quotation; in writing, usually quotation marks; 5. The setting apart of elements which are structurally independent, or which modify the sentence as a whole such as vocatives, appositives, nominative absolutes, and certain adverbs and transitional phrases by the use of the comma, and of exclamatory words and phrases by the comma or exclamation mark; 6. Brackets to enclose all matter foreign to the text as it was originally written, or merely conjectured to be a part of it. If you fail in the habitual use of these invariable marks, you should study and apply the principles given in Appendix VI until you have no further difficulty in this respect. Variable punctuation depends partly upon meaning, and partly upon the emphasis desired. This we shall study in connection with sentence structure. Only in this way can you learn how to make commas, semicolons, and colons, serve your thought. And without their aid you can never learn the secrets of exact and effective writing. Finally, in speaking of form, there remains to be considered grammar. Now grammar may be viewed under two aspects. It is a theoretical system according to which the eight classes of words called parts of speech are subject to certain changes in form or in position within the sentence, by virtue of which GOOD FORM 45 they control the meaning of the sentence. In its second as- pect, grammar is practical. It is the formulation of the usage of the majority of educated people who are speaking the language at any given time. The theory of grammar in any language changes almost imperceptibly; usage changes perceptibly in the course of a generation. Without perpetual reference to the idiom of living speech, grammar tends to become a dead letter; with- out frequent standardization on the basis of grammar, living speech tends to degenerate into dialects and slang. You may or may not have had the sad experience of studying grammar as a kind of pure mathematics of speech, quite unrelated to your usual manner of expressing yourself. It is so taught in some schools. However that may have been, there is danger in our country that grammar will be relegated to the dusty shelves of pedants, and daily speech run loose with the bit in its mouth. No one who reads current Amer- ican literature can be long unaware of the large amount of bad English that it contains English not merely informal, not merely colloquial, not merely slangy some slang in its place is admirable but English that cannot on any prin- ciple be justified as beautiful or fitting. Exactly the same criticism can be made of the speech of most of our people even that of college graduates, doctors of philosophy, pro- fessors, high officials. The American man or woman who speaks ninety per cent correct English is difficult to find. "Between you and I" has been heard from the platform, addressed to an audience of four thousand people; a super- intendent of education, in a pamphlet on English, defended the use of "He don't!" Undoubtedly one cause of this national illiteracy to put the matter strongly in regard to the use of English, lies in the separation of the study of grammar from the study of idiom. And the remedy lies with the college student. How shall he begin? 46 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH He must realize in the first place, that he does express himself incorrectly; and in the second place, that in an under- standing of grammar lies his help. He must regard grammar, not as a source of infinite boredom and low marks, but as a subject capable of being brought to life and made to stim- ulate his thinking processes. And the one way to bring grammar to life is to put aside formal definitions, elaborate classifications, examples made to order, and to observe how, as the machinery of the language, it really works. This can be done by analyzing step by step the construction of the sentence, and the changes of meaning and emphasis involved in changes of arrangement and punctuation. The cautions which some writers of textbooks and teachers have given about words and constructions have not always made clear to students the truth in regard to questions of usage; in fact, these cautions have sometimes been made so absolute as to be really misleading. Let us try to get some simple and clear ideas on the subject. In the first place, a language is just what the people who speak it and write it make it. The spelling of a word, its pronunciation, its meaning, its social standing, are not due to any substance or quality in the word itself that determines these features; they are due to the way in which the word has been spelled and pronounced and used in the past, including in the term "past" all the time from the origin of the word down to the present moment. For example, the word fee was once spelled feoh, it was pronounced like no word now in existence, and it meant a cow or, collectively, cattle; later it was spelled fee, pronounced almost like the modern word fay and it meant property in general or, specifically, money; later, from the meaning property developed a special meaning in connection with the holding of real-estate, in fee simple being the term for absolute possession of a piece of land; at the same time, from the meaning money developed the usual present meaning of a payment for services; and the GOOD FORM 47 word in both of its later meanings has acquired the pronuncia- tion that we now give it. It would obviously be absurd to-day to spell the word as it used to be spelled or to give it its ancient pronunciation or any of its ancient mean- ings, not because these were not correct for they were but merely because these are not the usage or custom of the present day. It would be equally absurd, although to hold in fee is still used hi legal documents with the meaning to own, to possess, for any speaker or writer to try to make this use of the word a part of his ordinary speech; it belongs to the technical language of the law courts and would be out of place in the language of daily life. The forms and meanings and associations of words in the past, then, have led up to their forms and meanings and associations at the present time; but since we live in the present and use present-day English, the question of word usage is simply a question of what actually are the spelling, pronunciation, meaning, and associations of words at the present time. This does not mean that every form that exists is correct and every usage is to be imitated. Some persons are ignorant, still more are careless. And besides that, some forms and meanings are permissible under some circumstances that would be absurd under others. Take the word alibi. It has a perfectly definite correct meaning, which is "proof that a person accused of a crime was somewhere else [Lathi alibi] when the crime was committed." Many people some ig- norant and others careless are now using it to mean "any sort of good excuse for any sort of failure." Does the usage of these ignorant and careless persons justify you in helping to spoil a good and useful word? Surely not. The clerk who sells you fresh vegetables probably nay, certainly applies the term grass to what you call asparagus. Does the uniform usage of the whole world of vegetable dealers justify you in adopting grass as good English for asparagus? 48 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH What has just been said about words applies with equal force to constructions. Some are antiquated, some are over- elegant for daily use, some are slangy, some are useful but undignified, some are good for any and all occasions. To use slang or undignified colloquialisms on an occasion calling for seriousness and dignity is like wearing a pair of overalls at a formal dinner; to use superfine poetic terms in buying a railway ticket or ordering the family groceries is like wearing evening dress at a baseball game. To sum up the whole matter briefly, it is important for success in writing or speaking to know what are the proper words and fit constructions for the different kinds of writing and speaking that one is called on to do. The realistic novel- ist and the feature story writers for newspapers and magazines will wish to know all varieties of speech slangy, vulgar, colloquial, business-like, super-elegant, pedantic, or what not for they have occasion in their work to represent all sorts and conditions of men as speaking in the manner in which each speaks in actual life. The writer or speaker who intends to cultivate a special field or a special audience will study the vocabulary and forms of language appropriate to his purpose. There are perhaps no words or constructions in current use that a writer might not wish to make use of for some special purpose or occasion. The art of good writing lies in employing for each purpose and occasion the right words in their right uses and places. For the student, the first requisite is to study the usage of persons whose taste and judgment and means of knowing what is proper can be de- pended upon. Books on usage if written by competent persons merely undertake to find out what is the uniform usage of cultivated men and women, what variations, if any, exist and to make this information available for those of us who are unable to learn such matters by personal observation. The most gen- erally useful of such books is, as has been said in a previous GOOD FORM 49 chapter, the dictionary. It does not undertake to lay down laws which must be observed, but only to report in regard to each word how it actually is spelled, pronounced, and used by most persons whose usage is worth considering; and fur- ther to record in regard to words that are out-of-date, or poetic, or colloquial, or slangy, or vulgar, or used only in cer- tain districts the fact that they are of such a character. Careful study of the dictionary, supplemented occasionally by some more detailed discussion of puzzling problems, will soon repay the student for his labor. You will find in Appendix VIII, a list of idioms which may help you with special difficulties. ASSIGNMENT Examine the eight sections of the Appendix and observe where you will find directions and exercises that will help you to overcome your individual defects in matters of form. Discuss in class the best ways of making use of this part of the book. PART II TECHNIQUE CHAPTER VI THE SENTENCE 1. PREDICATION GOOD sentences are the foundation stones of all good writ- ing. But when is a sentence good? What is a sentence? The function of the sentence is to express thought; and thought is the process in which the mind seizes upon an image or an idea and moves with it toward the goal of another idea. As a baby you began to think: Papa (image) is coming (goal). Kitty (image) is soft (goal). In other words, thought is the process of organizing mental impressions into relationships. In its simplest form, a thought involves two ideas: a subject with which it begins, and a predicate with which it ends. In this movement of the mind from subject through predicate thought lives; and like life itself, as soon as it ceases to be dynamic, it ceases to exist. The sentence, then, represents in words this thought- movement this passing over of thought from a subject to a predicate, which is sometimes called predication. The subject of the sentence always stands for a mental image or idea; it is always a substantive a noun, or its representative. Used alone, the substantive is static involves no thought whatever, but an image more or less definite : cat ; sky; who; he. But the moment that a predicate is attached, we have the movement of thought: The cat mewed; The sky is blue; Who came? He did. The predicate always embodies the thought-movement it- 53 54 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH self as it proceeds away from the subject toward a further idea; it is always a verb, which may or may not require for the complete expression of the idea further appendages, called object (direct and indirect), predicate complement, and ad- verbial substantive. Without the verb there can be no predicate; but the verb alone may be all that is needed for the predicate. Yet the verb can no more stand alone to express thought than can the subject: go; is; has seen. There can be no move- ment without a starting-point. But the moment a substan- tive is added or clearly understood, a sentence is formed: {You) go; God is; She has seen. The predicate verb is complex in its function. In the first place, it may be either dynamic or static; that is, it may ex- press action or merely state equivalence. When it is dynamic, it contains in itself the idea of the thought-movement that has its starting-point in the sub- ject, and it may contain within itself the goal of this move- ment: I am writing. On the other hand, the thought-movement may pass beyond the verb and find complete expression only when it has made a direct object its goal: I am writing a letter. This passing-over of the thought beyond the verb to a direct object is shown by the word transitive (going-over) , applied to the verb that is accompanied by this appendage. When the verb contains in itself a complete idea of action, it is called intransitive (not going over). There is no fixed classification of verbs on this basis. In many cases, the same verb may be used transitively and in- transitively: I walk I walk my horses. Baby grows I grow geraniums. THE SENTENCE 55 It is necessary, then, whenever a verb of action is used, to look to see whether the thought-movement passes beyond the verb and is completed by a direct object; that is, whether the verb is transitive or intransitive. The static verb, which is always the copula (the verb to be], or some verb that denotes an impression made upon the mind (as, to seem, appear, feel, taste, sound, look, smell, etc.), does not contain in itself the idea of the thought-movement, but merely serves to link the starting-point of the thought (sub- ject) with the goal, which is now called the predicate com- plement. Here the thought passes over from the subject to the predicate complement; but the verb is essential to hold the two ideas together. The predicate complement may be a noun, a pronoun, or an adjective: Who is he? He is American. He is an American. A sentence, then, consists of two essential elements: sub- ject and predicate. Both must be expressed, or if one is omitted, it must be so definitely implied that it can be imme- diately and exactly stated. . "Shall you walk?" "No [I shall not walk], [I shall] drive." A sentence with such omissions is called elliptical. The life of the sentence depends upon the presence or unmistakable implication in the predicate of some finite form of the verb (that is, a form in the indicative or the sub- junctive mood; not an infinitive or a participle), which asserts action, state, or being. The following groups of words are not sentences: The wood on the hill now almost bare (no verb). To return to the point (infinitive phrase used as verb). The day being warm and oppressive (participle used as verb). Which he said he would do (subordinate clause used independ- ently). 56 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The following diagram may help you to remember the essential condition that the thought must move from one idea to another: PREDICATION Starting-point _____ ' - Goal Subject Predicate Subject Intransitive verb Subject Transitive verb .... direct object Subject copula (copulative verb). . . .Predicate complement This, of course, is the bare skeleton of the simplest type of sentence structure the simple sentence. For the full ex- pression of the idea we may need modifiers of the subject (adjective elements), and modifiers of the predicate (adverbial elements), and modifiers of the sentence as a whole (independ- ent elements) ; but all these are superstructure, and found in varying degrees. They may be added or removed to alter the meaning of the sentence; but their presence or absence does not affect its life. The simple sentence may be built up by parallelism into the compound sentence; but each clause of this compound structure must conform to the requirements of the simple sentence. One simple sentence may be subordinated to another to construct a complex sentence; but principal and subordinate clause alike must contain predications. However much a sentence may vary in form as in state- ment, question, or exclamation, it must be built upon this one structural principle. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze each sentence on p. 58 into its starting-point and goal. Group the modifiers of the subject with it, and keep all the parts of the predicate together. Continue the exercise until you THE SENTENCE 57 have no difficulty in distinguishing the two essential features of the sentence. 2. Beginning where you left off in the preceding exercise, name the verbs, and distinguish between intransitive verbs and transi- tive verbs with direct objects. Wherever you can, give examples of the transitive use of verbs that you find intransitive, and vice versa. ! 3. Continue the sentence analysis, naming the copulas and copulative verbs, and the predicate complements attached to them. 4. Write in 100 words or less a summary of the structure of the sentence. Avoid as far as possible the phrasing used in this section. 5. Illustrate, if you can, the error of making groups of words that do not contain a predication stand for sentences. 6. Find and copy a dialogue of six or more elliptical sentences, supplying in brackets what is understood to make the sense com- plete. 2. ORGANIZATION How shall you know where to end one sentence and begin another? As a child, you probably talked like this: We went to the zoo and we saw the elephant and he was eating his dinner and so on until your breath gave out. But sentence unity is not a matter of breath, but of or- ganization of thought. Observation and reflection show us that all things about us are more or less related. The thought process is continually discovering new relationships, and con- tinually emphasizing, for the purpose of the moment, some relationships and ignoring others. In constructing every sentence we have an idea, in accordance with which we choose such material as we need, and organize it by establish- ing proper relationships between the words that contain this thought. Sentence unity is not simplicity, but organized complexity. Each sentence in a passage should combine a group of ideas more closely related to one another, in view of the purpose, than to any others expressed in the same connec- tion. It should be possible to omit elements in a sentence, or 58 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH to add elements, according to the amount of detail desired; but it should never be possible to say : This phrase belongs in the sentence before, or in the sentence after; or, This element has nothing to do with the predication or any part of it. To write unified sentences, you must first learn to answer the questions: What ideas am I trying to combine here? Have I so welded them that, however numerous and complex, they make a single impression, which can be summed up in a topic, or as a single predication? Let us see how this principle works out in the writing of an expert. Read the following paragraph, sentence by sen- tence, and note whether each sentence can be summed up according to the list of predications given below: 1. Under the shade of a lonely tree in the courtyard, the villagers connected with the assault case sat in a picturesque group, looking like a chromo-lithograph of a camp in a book of Eastern travel. 2. One missed the obligatory thread of smoke in the foreground and the pack-animals grazing. 3. A blank yellow wall rose behind, over- topping the tree, reflecting the glare. 4. The courtroom was somber, seemed more vast. 5. High up in the dim space the punkahs were swaying to and fro, to and fro. 6. Here and there a draped figure, dwarfed by the bare walls, remained without stirring amongst the rows of empty benches, as if absorbed in pious meditation. 7. The plaintiff, who had been beaten, an obese chocolate-colored man with shaved head, one fat breast bare, and bright yellow caste- mark above the bridge of his nose, sat in pompous immobility: only his eyes glittered, rolling in the gloom, and the nostrils dilated and collapsed violently as he breathed. 8. Brierly dropped into his seat looking done up, as though he had spent the night in sprint- ing on a cinder-track. 9. The pious sailing-ship skipper appeared excited and made uneasy movements, as if restraining with diffi- culty an impulse to stand up and exhort us earnestly to prayer and repentance. 10. The head of the magistrate, delicately pale under the neatly arranged hair, resembled the head of a hopeless invalid after he had been washed and brushed and propped up in bed. 11. He moved aside the vase of flowers a bunch of purple with a few pink blossoms on long stalks and seizing in both hands a long sheet of bluish paper, ran his eye over it, propped his forearms on THE SENTENCE 59 the edge of the desk, and began to read aloud in an even, distinct, and careless voice. Joseph Conrad. 1. The villagers how they looked 2. What details were missing 3. The wall how it looked 4. The courtroom how it looked 5. The punkahs where and how they were swaying 6. Visitors how they looked 7. The plaintiff how he looked 8. Brierly how he looked 9. The sailing-ship skipper .... how he looked 10. The magistrate how he looked 11. The magistrate how he opened the trial In this paragraph the sentences range in length from seven words to fifty-six. What determines the stopping-place of each? Let us try to combine them differently: No. 1. If you stop at group, you break the close connection of ideas between picturesque and chromo-lithograph. The phrase that begins with looking is the specific interpretation of the word picturesque; hence it is absolutely needed to make the picture, and belongs in this sentence and no other. No. 2. If you try to see at the same moment the things that are in a picture and those that are not, what is the re- sult? After you have the main outlines of the villagers, the author warns you against putting in what is not there. To keep from blurring the picture, he makes a fresh sentence. No. 3. This cannot be combined with 2 because it goes back to the picture in No. 1. No. 4. If 4 is combined with 3, you must instantaneously shift your point of view from the courtyard to the court- room; and neither scene stands out as vividly as if you gave it a special effort of attention. Moreover, 3 is the background for the picture of the group of villagers. No. 5. This might have been combined with 4; but stand- ing alone, it gives you time to see the room as a whole before your attention is called to any detail. 60 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH No. 6. This could not well have been combined with 5 because it shifts the view from the walls of the room to the benches; nor with 7 because it is the general background against which the figure described in 7 is to be placed. Nos. 7, 8, 9. Each of these sentences gives all the details about a single person in the room. Obviously any combina- tion of them would blur each little picture; and any breaking up of any of them would require you to piece it together. Nos. 10, 11. No. 10 makes a sketch of the magistrate sim- ilar to the preceding pictures; and No. 11 is a moving picture of how he opened the trial. If 10 and 11 are combined, you will not see him clearly before he begins to move. If you will try out the changes suggested above, you will see that while grammatically it would be possible to reduce the number of sentences to six or seven, or to increase it to nearly twenty, from the point of view of the subject the present number is exactly right. We may sum up the problem of sentence content, then, by saying that each sentence must be so constructed as to have unity; and further, that unity is not a matter of brevity as opposed to length, or of simplicity as opposed to complexity, but of the welding of ideas on the basis of associations in the writer's thought. It is the writer's business to see that these associations are at once apparent to his readers. As long as this association is sufficient to unify, there is theoretically no limit to the length of a sentence. Good sentences have been written containing five hundred words. Practically, however, three other considerations determine sentence length. One is the gradation of emphasis desired. If No. 11 in the Conrad passage had been expressed as three short sentences, the effect would have been to throw dis- proportionate stress on each movement of the magistrate, thus: He moved aside the vase of flowers a bunch of purple with a few pink blossoms on long stalks. Seizing in both hands a long THE SENTENCE 61 sheet of bluish paper, he ran his eye over it. Then he propped his forearms on the edge of the desk, and began to read aloud in an even, distinct, and careless voice. Such a change would be desirable if the plot in some way hinged upon each of these movements; but as they are merely background, they should be merged in one sentence. A second determinant is the desirability of breaking the strain upon the reader's attention at reasonable intervals. The pause between sentences, however short, is actually a moment of rest; and whenever a subject tends naturally to produce long sentences, it is well to make a deliberate effort to introduce short sentences for the relief that they give. If pages of unrelieved long sentences are fatiguing, not less so are pages of unrelieved short sentences, but for a very dif- ferent reason: the attention wearies of being jogged by the beginning of a fresh sentence every moment or two. The best writers learn so to vary their sentences in length that the reader's attention is kept alert without being jerked by the bit at short intervals. The third determinant is the rhythm desired for the passage as a whole. This depends upon the subject and purpose in writing. A popular article, a speech intended for a mixed audience, a story for children these require a rhythm made up of many short sentences, with only enough long sentences to avoid choppiness. A delicately articulated study or story dealing with a subtle or a complex subject would tend to a rhythm of much longer units, with only enough short sen- tences to avoid monotony. A good rule for the student in regard to sentence organiza- tion is this: Never make a sentence so long that a person reading aloud cannot grasp it as a whole as he goes on, and without difficulty give it the proper intonation and shading. From twenty to thirty words is a good average length; but sentences considerably shorter and considerably longer should be introduced now and then as the subject suggests them, or 62 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the effect will be monotonous. Whenever a sentence runs much over thirty words, it should fall into two or more very distinctly articulated divisions separated by semicolons, which give the reader breathing-space in which to get his bearings before he goes further. If you try to read aloud the following sentence taken from a standard newspaper, you will realize the importance of this caution: Under the statutes male spy suspects may be interned in places where they can do no harm, pending further investigation, but by the unfortunate wording of the President's proclamation, it would seem that no such preliminary protective measures short of actual arrest may be taken by the secret service against women, who thus are enjoying, at this critical stage of the war, a freedom of movement that materially handicaps the espionage departments and gives to them a supreme advantage in the underworld of spy- dom at a time when information as to troop movements and mili- tary preparations is of vital concern to Germany. How many words does it contain? How many sentences should have been made of it? Reconstruct it into the proper number of sentences. ASSIGNMENT 1. Experiment with different combinations and divisions of sentences in the following extract until you are convinced that each sentence includes only what is relevant to it, and stops where it should; or until you have been able to improve it: " There are times and moods in which it is revealed to us, or to a few among us, that we are a survival of the past, a dying remnant of a vanished people, and are like strangers and captives among those who do not understand us, and have no wish to do so; whose language and customs and thoughts are not ours. That 'world- strangeness,' which William Watson and his fellow-poets prattle in rhyme about, those, at all events, who have what they call the 'note of modernity' in their pipings, is not in me as in them. The blue sky, the brown soil beneath, the grass, the trees, the animals, the wind, and rain, and sun, and stars are never strange to me; for I am in and of and am one with them; and my flesh and the soil are one, and the heat in my blood and in the sunshine are one, and THE SENTENCE 63 the winds and tempests and my passions are one. I feel the 'strange- ness' only in regard to my fellow-men, especially in towns, where they exist in conditions unnatural to me, but congenial to them; where they are seen in numbers and in crowds, in streets and houses, and in all places where they gather together; when I look at them, their pale civilized faces, their clothes, and hear them eagerly talk- ing about things that do not concern me. They are out of my world the real world. All that they value, and seek and strain after all their lives long, their works and sports and pleasures, are the merest baubles and childish things; and their ideals are all false, and nothing but by-products, or growths, of the artificial life little funguses cultivated in heated cellars. "In such moments we sometimes feel a kinship with, and are strangely drawn to, the dead, who were not as these; the long, long dead, the men who knew not life in towns, and felt no strange- ness in sun and wind and rain. In such a mood on that evening I went to one of those lonely barrows; one that rises to a height of nine or ten feet above the level heath, and is about fifty yards round. It is a garden in the brown desert, covered over with a dense growth of furze bushes, still in flower, mixed with bramble and elder and thorn, and heather in great clumps, blooming, too, a month before its time, the fiery purple-red of its massed blossoms, and of a few tall, tapering spikes of foxglove, shining against the vivid green of the young bracken. " All this rich, wild vegetation on that lonely mound on the brown heath! '* Here, sheltered by the bushes, I sat and saw the sun go down, and the long twilight deepen till the oak woods of Beaulieu in the west looked black on the horizon, and the stars came out: in spite of the cold that made me shiver in my thin clothes, I sat there for hours, held by the silence and solitariness of that mound of the ancient dead." W. H. Hudson. 2. Copy from some magazine or newspaper a paragraph or part of a paragraph (not less than 300 words); and bring it to class for discussion of the sentences and possible improvements. 3. Collect some facts as to sentence length in current prose. At least two students should count the same pages in order to verify results. Count at least six pages, two by each of three authors in some magazine. The following magazines and periodicals are suggested: Atlantic Monthly, Nation, Outlook, New Republic, Har- per's, Century, Scribner's, Unpopular Review, English Review, Forum, North American Review. Do not use passages that contain dialogue. 64 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. MODIFICATION The movement of the sentence from its starting-point to its goal is a continuous process of modification, in which both single words and word groups of various lengths take part. This you will see at once if you read slowly the follow- ing paragraph, in which you find a dash after each single- word or group modifier, and in which the subjects and the pred- icates of the principal clauses are in bold-faced type, and the connective words in italics: On all this part of the coast, and especially near Aros, these great granite rocks that I have spoken of go down together in troops into the sea, like cattle on a summer's day. There they stand for all the world like their neighbors ashore; only the salt water sobbing between them instead of the quiet earth, and clots of sea-pink blooming on their sides instead of heather; and the great sea-conger to wreathe about the base of them instead of the poisonous viper of the land. On calm days you can go wandering between them in a boat for hours, echoes following you about the labyrinth; but when the sea is up, Heaven help the man that hears that cauldron boiling. Stevenson. If now you read the paragraph again, this time ignoring the pauses marked by the dashes, you will see how gradually and continuously all the modifiers merge into one another and blend with the subject and predicate to form in each sentence a unified impression. The thought veers slightly as it moves, but none the less, like a good ship, pushes on steadily toward the goal for which it set out. It is a good rule to be sparing in the use of modifiers to use them only when the subject substantive and the predicate verb cannot express the thought as fully and accurately as you wish. Often a single strong noun or verb can be sub- stituted for a weak noun plus an adjective, and a vigorous verb for a colorless verb plus an adverb, and with decided gain in economy, neatness, and force. Compare the follow- ing pairs of sentences : THE SENTENCE 65 A loud shouting quickly passed through the crowd, and A hullabaloo rocked the crowd. The wild country separated them entirely from their fellows, and Wilderness shut them from their fellows. On the other hand, when modifiers are necessary they should be so chosen that each makes a definite contribution to the idea, which could not be spared without great loss in effectiveness. In describing unfamiliar things, it is especially important to use specific, accurate, concrete, and suggestive words. Note the extraordinary skill with which nouns are modified and left unmodified in the following: Dark human shapes could be made out in the distance, flitting indistinctly against the gloomy border of the forest, and near the river two bronze figures, leaning on tall spears, stood in the sunlight under fantastic head-dresses of spotted skins, warlike and still in statuesque repose. And from right to left along the lighted shore moved a wild and gorgeous apparition of a woman. She walked with measured steps, draped in striped and fringed cloths, treading the earth proudly, with a slight jingle and flash of barbarous ornaments. She carried her head high; her hair was done in the shape of a helmet; she had brass leggings to the knee, brass wire gauntlets to the elbow, a crimson spot on her tawny cheek, innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck; bizarre things, charms, gifts of witch-men, that hung about her, glittered and trembled at every step. Joseph Conrad. Dark human shapes = negroes but with the change the sense of mystery is gone. Bronze figures = negroes but the picture is gone. Walked with measured step = paced but the emphasis is lost. A crimson spot, etc. = she was painted but the picture be- comes vague in color. 66 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Where a single word does the work, there is no modifier: Note: slight jingle and flash; and helmet over against innu- merable necklaces of glass beads. Skill in effective phrasing means perpetual considera- tion and balancing of the bare noun or verb over against noun or verb with modifiers. If you are speaking of familiar things, you must either omit modifiers, or use such as will make the familiar seem fresh or interesting. If you are speak- ing of unfamiliar things, you will do well to use modifiers that appeal to the reader's experience, and so stimulate his imag- ination to grasp the unknown. In general, if a modifier can be omitted without making much difference in the effect of the sentence, let it go. Avoid particularly expressions so hackneyed that the modifier can scarcely be torn from the noun (see Appendix, p. 494), and the meaningless use of the adverb very. And again, get rid of the idea that every noun must be accompanied by an adjective and every verb by an adverb, which results in pairing off like this: One sunny morning a pretty girl was busily gathering fragrant violets along the shady road near the babbling brook that ran noisily through the green valley Nothing is more fatal to freshness and good rhythm in writing than this mechanical balance in modification. The best way to learn when and how to use modifiers is to study the practice of careful writers. If your tendency is to overload your work with adjectives and adverbs, they will teach you how to prune; if your style is bald, they will show you how to add the right word in the right place. THE SENTENCE 67 ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze the use of modifiers in the passage on p. 65. 2. Read for an hour something by one of the following writers: Kipling, Stevenson, Henry James, Meredith, Joseph Conrad, W. D. Howells, W. H. Hudson, John Galsworthy, or H. G. Wells, and note on cards, with page references, especially effective uses of modifiers. If you find any that seem to you ineffective, or even bad, note these on separate cards. Discuss your notes in class. 3. Repeat the exercise with the work of an unfamiliar author; and in class discussion form some conclusion as to his merit in this respect. 4. PUNCTUATION You cannot write good sentences until you understand the relationship between sentence structure and punctuation. Let us take first the simple sentence, in which the only mark we need now be concerned with is the comma. The close-knit simple sentence with every element standing in its normal position may proceed to a considerable length without the use of a single comma (as in this case 25 words). And before we begin to discuss the introduction of commas, note that the use of a single comma between subject and predicate interrupts the passing over of the thought which is the essential feature of the sentence: The roads, became impassable. For this punctuation there is no possible excuse. But the error is especially likely to occur when the subject of the sentence is a long group of words. The origin of the error perhaps lies in a failure to grasp the difference in effect between one comma and two commas. One comma separates; two commas set apart a group of words as forming a sort of island around which the stream of thought may flow without interruption. Consequently, whenever a long modifier is placed between the subject and the predicate, it is set off from the rest of the sentence by two commas. This promotes clearness and 68 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH does not bar the progress of the thought from subject to predicate : The roads, about 'd week 'after the troops had been moved, became impassable. Aside from this special case, the use of the comma in the simple sentence may be discussed in connection with: (1) in- dependent elements; (2) adjective modifiers; and (3) adver- bial modifiers. Independent elements, that is, elements that modify the sentence as a whole, should always be separated from the rest of the sentence, usually by a comma or commas. Such elements are: 1. Vocatives, which address the thought to some person: You, Gertrude, ought to know. You are mistaken, my friend. Tell me, all you who work for your bread, is this fair? 2. Adverbs intensifying or qualifying the predication: Yes, I know. You will accept, of course. This is all, naturally. On the whole, it is a good plan. 3. Transitional words, phrases or clauses : To sum up, we cannot afford to do it. Finally, the plan would be unpopular. As I said before, it won't do. 4. Interjections: Oh, what a day! For heaven s sake, be careful ! When, however, the emphasis is shifted from the whole sen- tence to the interjection itself, an exclamation mark should be used instead of the comma: Oh! what a day that was. For heaven's sake! be careful. See Appendix, p. 447. THE SENTENCE 69 When an adjective modifier, word or phrase, standing in its normal position immediately before or after the sub- stantive, is regarded as essential to the meaning of the sub- stantive, it should never be separated from it by a comma: The president of the United States. The Man with the Hoe. The Research Magnificent. But when such a modifier is non-essential, that is, when it contains an idea to which the reader's attention is directed as distinct from the substantive modified, with more or less emphasis, it should be separated from its substantive by a comma: Frightened, the horse bolted. The horse, frightened by the noise, bolted. The appositive is a noun which performs a function very similar to that of the non-essential adjective. It always follows the substantive with which it stands in apposition, and is set off by a comma or commas from the rest of the sentence: The committee consists of Mr. Lloyd, the president of the society, Mr. Perkins, our minister, and Mr. Howell, the banker. When two or more adjectives modify the same noun, first consider whether they separately modify the noun, or whether some of them blend with others to modify it. When you wish each to modify the noun and to convey a distinct im- pression apart from the others, insert commas; where there is no comma, it is understood that all the adjectives blend to form a single impression that they represent, as it were, a single adjective. Thus: He wore a low-crowned, broad-brimmed, light gray felt hat. Here low-crowned and broad-brimmed give separate impres- sions, while light modifies gray, and gray modifies felt, and the blended impression light-gray-felt modifies hat. 70 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Again : A hard little green apple = a hard-little-green (i. e., unripe) apple. When the adjectives are connected by conjunctions, no commas are needed unless great emphasis is to be thrown on each separate impression: Good men and true; a punishment cruel and unusual; blue and green feathers. But: Very charitable was the lady, humble, and gracious, and soft- spoken. The members of a series of adjective phrases modifying the same noun must always be separated from one another by commas: With a ribbon in her hair, a flower in her sash, and gay buckles on her shoes, the little girl danced into the room. While adjective modifiers are usually held close to the substantive that they modify, adverbial modifiers move freely about the sentence. Sometimes, for the sake of em- phasis or transition, they begin the sentence; sometimes, for the sake of rhythm, they stand between subject and predicate; sometimes, they are separated from the verb that they modify and placed at the very end of the sentence. The general rule for adverbs and adverbial phrases is that when they are essential modifiers and stand next to the word that they modify, they should not be separated from it by a comma. If, however, they are non-essential and more or less emphatic, the comma may be used: I usually have tea in the afternoon. Except in bad weather I walk, usually. But when the adverb is dislocated separated from the word that it modifies, it must always be set apart by a comma or commas if there is any possibility of misunderstanding: Within, the house was a marvelous picture. Within the house was a marvelous picture. THE SENTENCE 71 Again, the comma may be used when special emphasis is desired for the adverb : Obviously you are overworking. Obviously, you are overworking. The members of a series of adverbs or adverbial phrases should always be separated by commas: Silently, noiselessly, breathlessly, they crept along. An industrial feudalism was dreamed of by Saint-Simon, by Comte, and by Carlyle. We may perhaps sum up the punctuation of the simple sentence thus : As long as the thought progresses with normal emphasis, and the modifiers need no more attention than they get as essential to the words that they modify, the sentence moves forward without commas; but when the thought is interrupted, for the sake of emphasizing certain aspects of it, and in the process certain elements of the sentence are dislocated, the grouping of the words must be shown by the commas that serve both to unify and to separate. Two com- mas unify into a group the words that they inclose; a single comma separates the two words between which it stands. The tendency to-day is to use as few commas as are con- sistent with perfect clearness. The principles for the punctuation of the simple sentence apply to the interior punctuation of the clauses of compound and complex sentences; the connection of these clauses with one another requires special discussion. ASSIGNMENT 1. Justify each use of the comma in the following sentences: (1) "He was a rough, cold, gloomy man." (2) "He was a sour, small, bilious man, with a long face and very dark eyes; fifty-six years old, sound and active in body, and with an air somewhat between that of a shepherd and that of a man following the sea." (3) "Flake after flake descended out of the black night air, silent, circuitous, interminable." 72 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (4) "The poet was a rag of a man, dark, little, and lean, with hollow cheeks and thin black locks." (5) "It was an eloquent, sharp, ugly, earthly countenance." (6) "He had forgotten all fear of the patrol, . . . and had no idea but that of his lost purse." (7) "A tall figure of a man, muscular and spare, but a little bent, confronted Villon." (8) "The head was massive in bulk, but finely sculptured; the nose blunt at the bottom, but refining upward to where it joined a pair of strong and honest eyebrows; the mouth and eyes sur- rounded with delicate markings, and the whole face based upon a thick white beard, boldly and squarely trimmed. ... It looked perhaps nobler than it had a right to do ... it was a fine face, honorable rather than intelligent, strong, simple, and righteous." (9) "He preceded the poet upstairs into a large apartment, warmed with a pan of charcoal and lit by a great lamp hanging from the roof. . . . Some smart tapestry hung upon the walls, representing the crucifixion of our Lord in one piece, and in another a scene of shepherds and shepherdesses by a running stream." Stevenson. (10) "He was sixty if a day; a little man, with a broad, not very straight back, with bowed shoulders and one leg more bandy than the other, he had that queer twisted-about appearance you see so often in men who work in the fields. He had a nut-cracker face chin and nose trying to come together over a sunken mouth and it was framed in iron-gray fluffy hair, looking like a chin-strap of cotton-wool sprinkled with coal-dust. And he had blue eyes in that old face of his, amazingly like a boy's, with that candid ex- pression some quite common men preserve to the end of their days by a rare internal gift of simplicity of heart and rectitude of soul." Joseph Conrad. 2. Try the effect of changing the punctuation of the passages just given wherever it seems to you that commas might be omitted or inserted. 3. Summarize in about 100 words, in language as different as possible from that used in this section, your understanding of the use of the comma in connection with modifiers. 5. COMPOUND ELEMENTS A special problem in the punctuation of the simple sentence is introduced when we have a series of two or more substan- tives used as one substantive, or a series of verbs used to- gether in the predicate. THE SENTENCE 73 When only two words are so used together, they are simply connected by a conjunction. In the following example all the elements are dual: Charlton-and-I met-and-dined with the-Grants-and-the-Lees. When, however, more than two words are used together as a series, the problem becomes more difficult. The following sentences are all correctly punctuated, but each conveys a different effect from the others: 1. I liked best the pumas and the leopards and the jaguars. Here the three nouns are as closely connected as possible. 2. I liked best the pumas, the leopards, and the jaguars. Here the image evoked by each noun is rather more distinct; and the and between the last two members of the series shows that no more animals are to be mentioned. 3. I liked best the pumas, and the leopards, and the jaguars. Here there is a distinct pause after each noun. 4. I was most interested in the pumas, the leopards, the jaguars. Here only the position of the nouns shows that they form a series; each member is viewed separately. From these examples, you see that the comma alone sep- arates most distinctly; and alone connects most closely; while midway between these extremes we find the usual method of dealing with a multiple element, which is to use commas alone except between the last two members where and is in- serted to show that the end of the series has been reached. Some writers omit the comma when and is used between the last two members; but this practice is not to be com- mended unless the last two members are to be more closely connected than the others, as: We had a boiled egg, fruit, bread and butter. As the sentence stands, it means that the bread was buttered; 74 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH if the comma is inserted, the meaning is that the bread and butter were two separate articles : We had a boiled egg, fruit, bread, and butter. By the manipulation of commas and conjunctions you can either blend the members of a multiple subject, or predicate, or any other element, so that they will make a unified im- pression; or so separate them that each individual part of the multiple will receive any degree of emphasis that you wish to give it. ASSIGNMENT 1. Punctuate the following sentences in every way that is per- missible, both with and without conjunctions; and discuss the dif- ferent effects that you obtain: (1) The Grants and the Lees will meet at the Belmont and dine at seven. (2) The scarlet crimson purple bronze lemon-colored autumn leaves overarched the road. (3) "A pair of swing doors gives admittance to a hall with a carved roof, hung with legal portraits, adorned with legal statuary, lighted by windows of painted glass, and warmed by three vast fires." Stevenson. (4) "Two inset cupboards were filled with glass and china. There were four Chippendale chairs and an oval Sheraton table, curtains of purple silk, some old English water-colors, and two candlesticks of Sheffield plate." Compton Mackenzie. (5) "Geoffrey Day's storehouse at the back of his dwelling was hung with bunches of dried horehound, mint, and sage, brown- paper bags of thyme and lavender, and long ropes of clean onions. On shelves were spread large red and yellow apples, and choice selections of early potatoes for seed next year." Hardy. 2. Explain the use or omission of commas and conjunctions in the following: (1) "O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it! To me she was not an old rattle-trap carting about the world a lot of coal for a freight to me she was the endeavor, the test, the trial of life. . . ." Joseph Conrad. (2) "The sky was a miracle of purity, a miracle of azure. The sea was polished, was blue, was pellucid, was sparkling like a precious THE SENTENCE 75 stone, extending on all sides, all round to the horizon as if the whole terrestrial globe had been one jewel, one colossal sapphire, a single gem fashioned into a planet." Joseph Conrad. (3) "The first thing I did was to put my head down the square of the midship ventilator. As I lifted the lid a visible breath, some- thing like a thin fog, a puff of faint haze, rose from the opening. The ascending air was hot, and had a heavy, sooty, paramny smell. I gave one sniff, and put down the lid gently. It was no use choking myself. The cargo was on fire." Joseph Conrad. 3. Analyze and discuss the use and omission of conjunctions and commas in the following; the same principles hold in compound and complex sentences as in simple: "It was a day of the unmatchable clear jEgean spring; Samothrace and Euboea were stretched out in the sunset like giants watching the chess, waiting, it seemed, almost like human things, as they had waited for the fall of Troy and the bale-fires of Agamemnon. Those watchers saw the dotted order of our advance stretching across the Peninsula, moving slowly forward, and halting and withering away, among fields of flowers of spring and the young corn that would never come to harvest. They saw the hump of Achi Baba flicker and burn and roll up to heaven in a swathe of blackness, and multitudinous brightness changing the face of the earth, and the dots of our line still coming, still moving forward, and halting and withering away, but still moving up among the flashes and the darkness, more men, and yet more men, from the fields of sacred France, from the darkness of Senegal, from sheep- runs at the ends of the earth, from blue-gum forests, and sunny islands, places of horses and good fellows, from Irish pastures and glens, and from many a Scotch and English city and village and quiet farm; they went on and they went on, up ridges blazing with explosion into the darkness of death. Sometimes, as the light failed, and peak after peak that had been burning against the sky grew rigid as the color faded, the darkness of the great blasts hid sec- tions of the line, but when the darkness cleared they were still there, line after line of dots, still more, still moving forward and halting and withering away, and others coming, and halting and withering away, and others following, as though those lines were not flesh and blood and breaking nerve but some tide of the sea coming in waves that fell yet advanced, that broke a little further, and gained some yards in breaking, and were then followed, and slowly grew, that halted and seemed to wither, and then gathered and went on, till night covered those moving dots, and the great slope was nothing but a blackness spangled with the flashes of awful fire." John Masefield. 76 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 6. THE COMPOUND SENTENCE The compound sentence is a series of simple sentences joined in one. It is to be distinguished from the simple sen- tence with multiple subject and predicate by the fact that it is a series of clauses, that is, of pairs of subject-and- predicate. In the following: Ethel-and-Frances (multiple subject) played-and-sang (multiple predicate) for us, although both subject and predicate are compound, the sentence itself is simple because it contains but one predica- tion; it might have been expressed: My sisters (single subject) gave us music (single predicate), Ethel (single subject) played (single predicate), and Frances (single subject) sang (single predicate) for us. Here the sentence is compound because it contains a pair of clauses : Ethel-played Frances-sang. In the compound sentence each element of a clause may, of course, be either simple or compound : Ethel-and-Frances play-and-sing; but Margaret dances well. In a compound sentence all the clauses are independent, and could by the omission of the conjunctions, and the sub- stitution of end punctuation marks (. ? !) for interior punc- tuation marks (, ;) be converted into a succession of simple sentences. But do not suppose that any group whatever of simple sentences can be combined to form a compound sen- tence. The basic principle on which every compound sen- tence must be constructed is parallelism; that is, as all the clauses are coordinate similar in structure so they must be correlative in content and similar in form. To be correlative in content, all the clauses should develop ideas of approximately the same importance. Only for pur- poses of humor is the coordination of important and unim- portant ideas permissible. THE SENTENCE 77 In serious writing all the lesser ideas should be rigorously subordinated expressed in dependent clauses or in phrases. As a rule, all the clauses of a compound sentence should express the same kind of idea: concrete or abstract; specific or general; literal or figurative. In the following sentence the first clause is concrete and specific, and the second is abstract and general, with the effect that the second shows a distinct falling off in interest. Compare the second version, in which every detail in the second clause is as specific and as concrete as in the first: The ripple of the wind in the foliage stirred my pulses and the beauty of the scene moved me strangely. The ripple of the wind in the foliage stirred my pulses, and a sudden glimpse of the green and golden plain that rolled away to a purple horizon of sea set my blood spinning with delight. In a compound sentence involving figures, a single figure may be carried through all the clauses, or a succession of slightly felt and not disturbingly incongruous figures may be used: The snow lay on the beach to the tide-mark. It was daubed on to the sills of the ruin; it roosted in the crannies of the rock like white sea-birds; even on outlying reefs there would be a little cock of snow, like a toy lighthouse. Everything was grey and white in a cold and dolorous sort of shepherd's plaid. Stevenson. A single slight figure may also be introduced into one clause and not into the others: The feathers swept; the wings spread out as sails that take the wind. Algernon Blackwood. In trying to make the clauses of compound sentences correlative in content, note that they are most commonly used for holding different classes of things side by side: 1. Details of a description of approximately the same im- portance: Clumps of fruit-trees marked the villages; slim palms put their nodding heads together above the low houses; dried palm-leaf 78 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH roofs shone afar, like roofs of gold, behind the dark colonnade of tree-trunks; figures passed vivid and vanishing; the smoke of fires stood upright above the masses of flowering bushes; bamboo fences glittered, running away in broken lines between the fields. Joseph Conrad. 2. Simultaneous or successive events of about the same importance: A small cloud passes over the face of the Moon, and the city and its inhabitants clear drawn in black and white before fade into masses of black and deeper black. Kipling. There was a sharp clink of glass bracelets ; a woman's arm showed for an instant above the parapet, twined itself round the lean little neck, and the child was dragged back, protesting, to the shelter of the bedstead. Kipling. It is also true, however, that any relationship expressed by the subordinate clauses of a complex sentence may, for the sake of emphasis, be coordinated as a clause of a com- pound sentence: In the following examples, you will find the relationships of cause and effect, condition, concession, and so on: Some poor soul has risen to throw a jar of water over his fevered body; the tinkle of the falling water strikes faintly on the ear (meaning, as some poor soul, etc.). Kipling. The open square in front of the Mosque is crowded with corpses; and a man must pick his way carefully for fear of treading on them (meaning, since the open square, etc.). Kipling. "Feed a cold and starve a fever" (meaning, // you feed a cold, you will be obliged to starve a fever). A ray of sunlight fell across the face of the sleeper; he did not stir (meaning, although a ray, etc.). As a rule, students tend to use too many 'compound sentences. They are particularly fond of the vague articula- tion of clauses by means of so, and and so. This form of connection covers so many relationships that it conveys no definite meaning beyond that of mere succession. For this reason you should avoid it altogether until you have become THE SENTENCE 79 expert in subordination. This point will be discussed further in connection with the complex sentence. The clauses of a compound sentence should be parallel in form as well as in content. To secure this parallelism, they should all as a rule be declarative, or interrogative, or ex- clamatory. Occasionally, to express a sudden turn of thought or a contrast, the second of two clauses may be interrogative, when the first is declarative: He owes all his success to me; but what difference does that make? But the declarative and exclamatory forms, and the interrog- ative and exclamatory forms should never be combined by the inexperienced writer. The following example is a typ- ically ineffective student sentence: The children danced; and oh, how they laughed! Further, the sentence elements subject, predicate, mod- ifiers within each clause should occupy relatively the same position as in every other. All the sentences quoted above illustrate this point. Occasionally, to point a contrast, the order in two clauses is exactly reversed; but to be effective, this arrangement must be apparent at a glance, thus: For the country people to see Edinburgh on her hilltops, is one thing; it is another for the citizen, from the thick of his affairs, to overlook the country. Stevenson. The punctuation between the clauses of a compound sen- tence follows the rule for punctuating the members of a series of words, except that when commas are required for any reason within the clauses, semicolons are often used to mark the larger divisions of the thought. The rules may perhaps be summed up thus: 1. Short, simple clauses may be connected by a conjunc- tion alone, or by a conjunction and comma, according to the degree of separation desired: \ 80 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH I like Meredith but Grace does not. I like Meredith, but Grace does not. It is not advisable to use the comma alone. If decided dis- junction is desired, even in a short sentence the semicolon is better: I like Meredith; Grace does not. 2. In a series of short, simple clauses in which no commas are required for internal punctuation, the usual rules for punctuating a series hold, except that the conjunction alone does not always serve to distinguish between the clauses of a compound sentence and compound elements in a simple sentence: The storm rattled windows and doors everywhere blew shut. For this reason, we may use either commas alone, with a single and between the last two clauses, or commas and con- junctions throughout: The rain hissed, it gurgled, and it foamed in a torrent along the deck. The rain hissed, and the wind boomed in the rigging, and the occasional crash of a wave over our heads drowned speech. 3. Whenever commas are needed for interior punctuation, the clauses themselves must be separated by semicolons. Many of the compound sentences quoted above illustrate this rule. 4. Whenever strong emphasis is desired for each clause in turn, semicolons may be used without regard to interior punctuation. The clauses of an interrogative or an exclamatory com- pound sentence may be separated by commas when the emphasis of question or exclamation is on the sentence as a whole; but when it is desirable to stress each clause, the ques- tion mark, or exclamation mark may be placed after each clause as well as at the end of the sentence: THE SENTENCE 81 Have you had the sea under your windows at Mentone? have you sniffed its heliotrope hedges in mid-winter? have you basked in the olive gardens that warm its encompassing foothills? have you penetrated the long narrow valleys that lead away to the bare high Alps? and have you dreamed in the Arab villages that crown their isolated peaks? How I have wondered what those ancient men really thought! how I have pored over the few relics of their armor, their ornaments, their household wares, for a glimpse into their minds! how I have pondered over scraps of their writing and lingered among the ruins of their dwelling places! ASSIGNMENT 1. Explain the structure of the following sentences, and show by experiment that the use of punctuation marks and of conjunc- tions is in each case right. Distinguish between the comma and the semicolon, and note where the conjunction is used and where omitted: "Last night it was a fordable shallow; tonight five miles of raving muddy water parted bank and caving bank, and the river was still rising under the moon." Kipling. "With Wednesday, the week stirs itself, turns over, begins to wake. There are matine'es on Wednesday; on Wednesday some of the more genial weekly papers come out. . . . On Monday they [friends] may not have returned from the country; on Friday they have begun to go out of town again; but on Wednesday they are here, at home are solid. . . . " On Thursday the week falls back a little; the stirring of Wednes- day is forgotten; there is a return to the folding of the hands. . . . There is nothing strong and downright and fine about it. ... " Wednesday is calm, assured, urbane; Friday allows itself to be a little flurried and excited. Wednesday stands alone; Friday to some extent throws in its lot with Saturday. . . . Too many papers come out, too many bags are packed, on Friday. . . . But Saturday and Sunday are what we individually make of them. In one family they are friends, associates; in another as ill-assorted as Socrates and Xantippe. For most of us Saturday is not exactly a day at all, it is a collection of hours, part work, part pleasure and all restlessness. . . . " Sunday even more than Saturday is different as people are dif- ferent. To the godly it is a day of low tones; its minutes go by muffled; to the children of the godly it is eternity. . . . " To one man it is the interruption of the week; to another it is 82 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the week itself, and all the rest of the days are but preparations for it." E. V. Lucas. 2. Punctuate the following sentences: "A strapping girl with high cheek bones and a broad dark comely face washed plates and glasses assiduously and two waiters with eyes as near together as a monkey's served the customers with be- wildering intelligence. . . . Meanwhile every one shouted the naphtha flared the drums beat the horses champed. . . . " And then the shifting flames came gradually into a mass and took a steady upward progress and the melancholy strains of an ancient ecclesiastical lamentation reached our listening ears. . . . On the bridge I found a little band of Roman soldiers on horseback without stirrups and had a few words with one of them as to his anachronistic cigarette and then the first torches arrived carried by proud boys in red. . . . "... This car was drawn by an ancient white horse amiable and tractable as a saint but as bewildered as I as to the meaning of the whole strange business. . . . And after them the painted plaster Virgin carried as upright as possible and then more torches and the wailing band and after the band another guard of Roman soldiers." E. V. Lucas. 3. Find and study all the compound sentences on p. 186 of this book. Try the effect of breaking them into simple sentences, and discuss the punctuation of each as it stands. Criticize them with respect to parallelism, by answering the questions: Are the ideas expressed in the parallel clauses of the same general kind literal or figurative? abstract or concrete? general or specific? Are they of approximately the same degree of importance? 4. In the same passage see whether you can find any groups of two or three simple sentences that might have been combined into a single compound sentence. Combine them, and decide whether the change is an improvement or not. 7. THE COMPLEX SENTENCE A complex sentence is constructed by subordinating one simple sentence to another. This produces a form with one principal clause, and one or more subordinate clauses used as substantives, as adjectives, or as adverbs. Thus we may make two simple sentences to express two "observations: THE SENTENCE 83 It is snowing. It is a pity. Or we may combine these observations into a complex sen- tence by subordinating the less important: It is a pity thai it is snowing. Here the sentence it is snowing is converted into a clause subordinated by means of the conjunction that, and used as a substantive in apposition with the subject it. The clause might have been used as the subject itself: That it is snowing is a pity. Again, we may say: This tree is a sycamore. It has white patches on its trunk. Or we may combine these two simple sentences by sub- ordinating the less important thus : This tree, which has white patches on its trunk, is a sycamore. Here the subordinate clause is subordinated and connected by the relative pronoun which, and is used as an adjective modifying tree. We may, if we please, subordinate the other idea thus: This tree, which is a sycamore, has white patches on its trunk. Again, we may say: I am sitting in the sunshine. It is warm here. These two observations may be combined into a complex sentence by subordinating either, to throw emphasis on the other: I am sitting in the sunshine where it is warm; or: Where I am sitting in the sunshine, it is warm. In each case the relative adverb where connects with the prin- cipal clause a subordinate clause used as an adverb modifying a verb. 84 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH A complex sentence may have any number of subordinate clauses, but only one principal clause. A compound sentence may also be modified by subordinate clauses in the same way as a simple sentence, and is then called compound-complex. The complex and compound-complex sentences involve exactly the same problems of Composition, and can be dis- cussed together. For further discussion of the grammar of the complex sentence, see Appendix VIII. The problems in constructing the complex sentence are: 1. What shall be subordinated? 2. How shall the subordinate clauses be constructed and punctuated? 3. How shall they be arranged with reference to one another and to the principal clause? 1. To secure correct subordination, it is sometimes nec- essary to stop and ask yourself: Which is the idea that I wish to emphasize? Answer this, and subordinate the other ideas. Unless you take this trouble, you will often find your- self inadvertently twisting the emphasis of your sentence, thus : I was in France when I saw a fight in the air. The chances are that you mean: When I was in France I saw a fight in the air. Which idea is emphatic? the fight or the place of the observer? The when belongs before the less important clause. Note particularly this twist in subordination in the so- type of sentence, beloved by students : It was raining, so I did not go. This sentence is neither compound nor complex. You should make the clauses clearly coordinate, or should subordinate one to the other according to the emphasis that you desire. The following are all correct: THE SENTENCE 85 As it was raining I did not go (complex). It was raining so that I did not go (complex). It was raining; and so I did not go (compound). The so-sentence is a slipshod avoidance of responsibility, and should be shunned entirely. There is theoretically no limit to the number of subordinate clauses that may be introduced into a complex sentence: That the woman who lost all the money she had in the world could not remember whai the denominations of the bills were is a pity, because the man who found the amount she said she. had lost was willing that she should have it if she could prove that she had passed near the place where he found it and could identify the bills that he had found. Only three words the predicate is a pity stand outside a subordinate clause. This sentence is unbearably clumsy. It can be improved by introducing phrases here and there. It does not, however, commit the most serious fault in sub- ordination, which is the use of the same connective words to introduce clauses of different degrees of subordination; that is, clauses that are structural elements in the principal clauses, and clauses that modify subordinate clauses, thus: This is the man wJto captured a spy who was disguised as a woman who was driving an ambulance. This House-that-Jack-built type of sentence should be care- fully avoided. If the most important idea next to that of the principal clause is expressed as a subordinate clause, all the ideas that are still more subordinate should be reduced to phrases or words, if possible. Note the gain in clearness and compactness : This is the man who captured a spy disguised as a woman ambu- lance driver. In general, guard against too many subordinate clauses. Make sure that your most important idea is contained in the principal clause, and keep as subordinate clauses only such modifying ideas as do not easily and naturally reduce to phrases or words. 86 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 2. Subordinate clauses that have the same function in the sentence must be constructed on the same plan; that is, if they modify in the same way the same word, or words in parallel construction, they must be introduced by the same connective and this repeated for the sake of clearness with their structural elements in the same order: When we have levelled overwhelming disparities of wealth, when we have opened the door of opportunity to every human creature, when we have eliminated ideals of aggrandizing the unit-man at the expense of the whole then we are at the beginning of the problems of socialism. The punctuation of the subordinate clause depends upon its function in the sentence. As substantive subject or object it should follow the rule for single-word substantives, and should not be separated from the verb by a comma. Such a comma interrupts the movement of the thought: That he is so weak is a pity. It is a pity that he is so weak. We heard that they had gone. He asked where you were. Some writers insert a comma after a subject clause of great length, and after one ending in the same verb as the predicate; but the comma is not necessary in either case: Who laughs laughs at his peril. The substantive clause in apposition, however, following the rule for appositives, should always be set off by commas : This news, that he was a prisoner, was the first word that we had had of him for months. Sometimes, when the clause demands greater emphasis than is shown by commas, it is set off between dashes : This fact that he had been shot as a deserter was known to very few. Adjective clauses and adverbial clauses may be used as essential or non-essential modifiers. When a clause is an THE SENTENCE 87 essential modifier (adjective or adverb), it must be kept as close as possible to the word that it modifies and must not be punctuated: The gipsy who spoke English told my fortune. I am always happy while I am working. I looked where you told me to look. You cannot go if you are angry. The non-essential adjective clause as a rule also follows the noun that it modifies; but it must be separated from this by a comma. Like an appositive word or phrase, it is paren- thetical and explanatory in function, and can be omitted, leaving the sentence less detailed but complete in sense: This man, who is a Frenchman from Algiers, can be identified by a crescent-shaped scar on his chin. The position of the non-essential adverbial clause in the sentence may be varied according to the emphasis desired for it. When it stands between the subject and the predicate, it follows the rule for inclosing between commas any mod- ifier that interrupts the predication: Angry justice had, as it were, photographed him in the act of his homicide. When the non-essential clause comes last in the sentence, it is usually set off by a comma only when it might be wrongly taken as an essential clause: He went down to the cabin, where he lit a pipe and read for an hour. When the non-essential clause stands first in the sentence, it must always be set off by a comma if it might otherwise introduce even a momentary doubt as to the beginning of the subject, or if its idea calls for special emphasis. But when it is short and of little importance, no comma is needed. Compare the following sentences: After the door was closed and locked, Dulcie fell upon her bed, crushing the black tip, and cried for ten minutes. 88 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH When her cry was over Dulcie got up and took off her best dress, and put on her old blue kimono. 0. Henry. To distinguish between an essential and a non-essential clause, you have only to ask yourself: Is it necessary to iden- tify the person or thing named by the substantive, or is that person or thing already identified, and the clause added merely as an additional detail? Thus: in the sentence "The gipsy, who spoke English, told my fortune," I already have in mind a particular gipsy, and add merely as an additional detail the fact that she spoke English; the clause is non- essential, and must be set off by commas. But in the sentence "The gipsy who spoke English told my fortune," one gipsy among several is identified by her speaking of English; con- sequently, the clause is essential, and no commas must be used. 3. In the arrangement of subordinate clauses there are two principles to remember: (1) If they are parallel in construction, they must stand in some definite order, of which the commonest are climax and contrast: Climax: When the generation is gone, when the play is over, when the thirty years' panorama has been withdrawn in tatters from the stage of the world, we may ask what has become of these great, weighty, and undying loves, and the sweethearts who despised mortal conditions in a fine credulity. . . . Stevenson. Contrast: And it is more important that a person should be a good gossip, and, talk pleasantly and smartly of common friends and the thousand and one nothings of the day and hour, than that she should speak with the tongues of men and angels; for a while together by the fire hap- pens more frequently in marriage than the presence of a distin- guished foreigner to dinner. Stevenson. (2) If the clauses are not parallel, they should be distrib- uted through the sentence not all before the subject, or after THE SENTENCE 89 the predicate, but before, and after, and between subject and predicate, so that the exact relationship and degree of emphasis belonging to each will at once be clear. For examples of this careful placing of subordinate clauses, see the passages quoted on pp. 62f. and 75. In general, complex and compound-complex sentences should be preferred to the compound, both for the sake of the greater variety that they give, and what is still more important for the practice that they afford in shading emphasis to match the relative importance and unimportance of different phases of thought. Indeed, the compound- complex sentence the compound sentence with one or more subordinate clause modifiers combines the virtues of both the other types and is one of the commonest in actual use, as you will find by observation of any good piece of prose. ASSIGNMENT 1. Name and explain the structure of each of the following sen- tences and the arrangement of the subordinate clauses; and then explain its punctuation: (1) "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." Stevenson. (2) "Out in the orchard a heavy mist wrapped him in wet folds of silver; yet overhead there was clear starlight, and he could watch the slow burnishing of the moon's face in her voyage up the sky. It was a queer country in which he found himself, where all the tree-tops seemed to be floating away from invisible trunks, and where for a while no sound was audible but his own footsteps making a sound almost of violins in the saturated grass. The moon wrought upon the vapors a shifting damascene and far behind, as it seemed, a rufous stain showed where the candles in his room were still alight. Gradually a variety of sounds began to play upon the silence. He could hear the dry squeak of a bat and cows munching in the meadows on the other side of the stream. The stream itself babbled and was still, babbled and was still; while along the bank voles were taking the water with splashes that went up and down a scale like the deep notes of a dulcimer." Compton MacKenzie. 90 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (3) "Mottram of the Indian Survey had ridden thirty and railed one hundred miles from his lonely post in the desert since the night before; Lowndes of the Civil Service, on special duty in the political department, had come as far to escape for an instant the miserable intrigues of an impoverished native State whose king alternately fawned and blustered for more money from the pitiful revenues contributed by hard-wrung peasants and despair- ing camel-drivers; Spurstow, the doctor of the line, had left a cholera stricken camp of coolies to look after itself for forty-eight hours while he associated with white men once more. Hummil, the assistant engineer, was the host." Kipling. (4) "Very simple indeed were the tunes to which Mottram's art and the limitations of the piano could give effect, but the men listened with pleasure, and in the pauses talked of what they had seen or heard when they were last at home. A dense dust-storm sprung up outside, and swept roaring over the house, enveloping it in the choking darkness of midnight, but Mottram continued unheeding, and the crazy tinkle reached the ears of the listeners above the flapping of the tattered ceiling-cloth." Kipling. 2. Rewrite the following sentences, using simple and complex sentences wherever you can: "Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand, and then he thought it a sin and shame to throw away that noble sword; and so again he hid the sword, and returned again and told the king. . . . Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water side, and there he bound the girdle about the hilt, and then he threw the sword far into the water. And there came an arm and a hand above the water and met it, and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brand- ished; and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water." Sir Thomas Malory. 3. In the passages on p. 169 of this book convert the compound sentences into complex and vice versa, whenever you can do so without spoiling the effect. How many sentences of either kind do you find which are not easily convertible into the other type? 4. Using the same passage, reduce both compound and complex sentences to simple sentences with phrase modifiers, whenever it is possible to do so, and decide in each case which form gives the best effect, and how the use of each of the others changes the effect. 8. PHRASES Few persons except writers of much experience realize the important part played by the phrase in the building of the THE SENTENCE 91 sentence. To gain some idea of the number and variety of phrases and of their structural functions, read carefully the following paragraph in which all the phrases are in italics : The country, as I have said, was mixed sand-hill and links; links being a Scottish name for sand which has ceased drifting and become more or less solidly covered with turf. The pavilion stood on an even space, a little behind it the wood began in a hedge of elders huddled together by the wind; in front, a few tumbled sand-hills stood between it and the sea. An outcropping of rock had formed a bastion for the sand, so that there was here a promontory in the coast-line between two shallow bays; and just beyond the tides, the rock again cropped out and formed an islet of small dimensions but strikingly designed. The quicksands were of great extent at low water, and had an infamous reputation in the country. Close in shore, between the islet and the promontory, it was said that they would swallow a man in four minutes and a half; but there may have been little ground for this precision. The district was alive with rabbits, and haunted by gulls which made a continual piping about the pavilion. On sum- mer days the outlook was bright and even gladsome; but at sundown in September, with a high wind, and a heavy surf rolling in close along the links, the place told of nothing but dead mariners and sea disasters. A ship beating to windward on the horizon, and a huge truncheon of wreck half buried in the sands at my feet, completed the innuendo of the scene. Stevenson. If you count the number of words in this passage, and then count the number in phrases, you will see that the greater part of the text consists of phrases. This proportion is by no means unusual; phrases are so important a part of the structure of sentences that no writing can be made effective without proper management of the phrasing. If you do not remember the grammatical structure and functions of phrases in the sentence, review them in Appendix VII before you continue the study of this section. In connection with phrasing there are three main prob- lems for the student : A. The close weaving together of simple phrases into a composite, to secure unified impressions. 92 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH B. The distribution and punctuation of phrases, to shift emphasis in the sentence. C. The choice between the phrase and the subordinate clause. A. The Stevenson passage contains admirable examples of close weaving of phrases. For instance, the composite phrase "in a hedge of elders huddled together by the wind" contains four simple phrases in its ten words; the clause be- ginning "but at sundown" consists of thirty words, of which only four are not woven into phrases. In this close knitting, prepositional and participial phrases, phrases used as ad- jectives and as adverbs, are so neatly bound together that only by analysis do we realize in many cases the composite character of the whole. Study of the practice of an author who is particularly neat and careful about his phrasing and for this quality Stevenson is preeminent will do much to correct a loose-jointed and awkward style. B. When, instead of a composite phrase conveying a single impression, you wish to use a group of simple phrases, each conveying a distinct and independent impression, your prob- lem is not to find phrases that will weld together without showing joints, but to place each phrase where it will get the right degree of emphasis, and to punctuate it so that its rela- tionship and force will be unmistakable. Your first step must be to note whether your phrase is an essential or a non-essential modifier. If it is essential, it must be kept close to the word that it modifies, and not separated from it by a comma: an islet of small dimensions but strikingly designed But if it is non-essential, it may be placed almost anywhere in the sentence, according to the emphasis desired, provided that its relationship, with or without the aid of punctuation, is kept perfectly clear. The chief difficulty is in the placing of adverbial phrases. THE SENTENCE 93 Adjective phrases, like single adjectives, even when they are non-essential, do not usually get away from the noun that they modify. For the placing of adverbial phrases there are perhaps two general rules: 1. Do not group them together in such a way that in part of the sentence the mind will be overloaded with a group of distinct and unrelated modifiers, while in another part it finds no modifiers. If you have several phrases, distribute them at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end so that each has time to convey its idea before the next is reached, and the sentence as a whole shows an approximate balance of weight between its beginning and its end. Close in shore, | it was said that they j in four minutes 1 would swallow a man .... 1 and a half. between the is- let and the promontory, The balance is evident. Try the effect of placing the last phrase immediately after promontory. And quite apart from the desirability of balance, the emphasis here is on the short- ness of the time, which is therefore placed last. This brings us to the second rule. 2. For emphasis, place the phrase as follows: (1) Last, when it is to bear the greatest emphasis of any part of the sentence: The outlook was bright and even gladsome on summer days. (2) First, when it serves as a good introduction to the sen- tence, or, it may be, a transition from the preceding sentence: The outlook was bright in summer. But during a winter storm it chilled the heart. (3) Neither first nor last, but at the most convenient place within the sentence, when it bears no special stress: The outlook, to one returning after a long absence, seemed dreary. If you remember these two points, distribution of non- 94 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH essential adverbial phrases for securing balance in the whole sentence, and the proper emphasis due to each phrase, you will soon gain a degree of ease and mastery in the manage- ment of your phrases. C. The rule for choice between the phrase and the subor- dinate clause is simple: Prefer the phrase; it is more compact and usually more emphatic. Compare the following: He is a man who has great wealth. He is a man of great wealth. If this is understood, we may come to terms. This understood, we may come to terms. Almost any relationship expressed by the subordinate clause time, place, cause, condition, concession, purpose, result, comparison may be expressed by the phrase; the clause should be reserved for two cases: 1. When the exact nature of the relationship is important and cannot be so clearly expressed by a phrase: Throughout this period of restraint he worked well. The meaning is ambiguous, but is made clear by a clause: Because he was under restraint, for a time he worked well. Although he was under restraint for a time, he worked well. 2. When there is emphasis on the predication itself: He is a man who ought to succeed is stronger than He is a man likely to succeed. In punctuating these distributed phrases, remember that every non-essential modifier, and every independent element that modifies the sentence as a whole, must be set off by com- mas; also, that any element which is especially emphatic may likewise be set off. When a phrase follows the predicate verb, it is less likely to need commas, except for reasons of emphasis, than when it precedes the subject or stands between subject and predicate. When it precedes the subject, it must be followed by a comma whenever it introduces even momen- THE SENTENCE 95 tary doubt as to where the subject begins; it may be fol- lowed by a comma if it is loosely connected or especially emphatic. Thus : According to Henry Parker was not at home introduces a momentary doubt: until was is read, we are not sure that Henry does not belong with Parker. So we must punctuate: According to Henry, Parker was not at home. Again, there is a decided difference in emphasis between the following sentences: All last summer I had no time for golf. Day after day, I have tried in vain to make time for golf. When the phrase stands between subject and predicate, it need not be punctuated if it is short, unemphatic, and does not divert the trend of the thought; but if it attracts even momentary attention to itself, it must be set off by commas in order that the movement of the sentence may pass round it from subject to predicate : The problem to my thinking is not insoluble. This defeat, according to the explanations of the routed generals, counted as a victory. In regard to the punctuation of these movable phrases you will find wide variation in practice among good writers; but if you bear in mind two points the need for perfect clearness of relationship between the elements of the sen- tence, and the use of the single comma to separate, and of two commas to hold together the words between them you should have no great difficulty, and you should soon begin to establish a system of your own. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze as to structure and function all the phrases in the passage on p. 65. Change as many of the phrases as you can into subordinate clauses, and discuss the differences in effect. Change 96 THE ENGLISH OF WRITING as many of the subordinate clauses as you can into phrases, and discuss the differences in effect. Copy the sentences with every pos- sible change in the arrangement of the phrases, and decide whether or not the author has in every case chosen the best possible order. 2. Copy from a magazine or newspaper twenty or more sentences containing subordinate clauses reducible to phrases. Make the reduction in writing, and decide in each case whether or not it is an improvement. 3. From a similar source copy twenty sentences in which you feel that the phrases are not in the best order; then write them with your changes. 4. Study the phrasing in the quotation on p. 20 of this book. 9. COMPACTNESS A well-built sentence is one in which every word is needed exactly where it stands in order to bring out the thought with the degree of emphasis and emotion desired by the writer and to connect this thought exactly with the thoughts expressed by the preceding and by the following sentence. In a perfect sentence no word could be added or cut out or changed in position without obvious injury. The essential qualities here suggested are compactness and clearness. To realize what compact structure means, compare the following sentences: In an individualist democracy no tax could be more consistent with the ideals and purposes of the nation than an inheritance tax which should tend to equalize opportunity from generation to gen- eration and compel those who are to enjoy unearned power and privilege to make especial contribution to the common need. How interesting it is to see all the great men of the land come and go each day to see them and to know them and to hear them talk. How many have I talked to myself since being here in Wash- ington. There were so many I could not begin to name them or put down what they say, but where I am is an unrivalled place to meet and know them, and yet how commonplace many of them are when seen at close quarters. . . . How many are sort of freak- ish . . . somehow very few of them make any sort of an impression on me and I wonder why it is. THE SENTENCE 97 The first sentence is quoted from an editorial; it is com- pact and clear. The second passage is from the manuscript of a book offered for publication; about one-third of it could be cut, and the remaining words combined in this manner: Here in Washington I have an unrivalled opportunity to see, to hear, and to meet daily all the great men of the land. I cannot remember even their names, much less what they say. Interesting as the experience is, the men are curiously commonplace, or even freakish. I wonder why so few of them impress me. Now let us consider why this passage can be cut down one- third without loss of an idea and become more close-knit in the process. What are the main defects of the original form? 1. It shifts the subject back and forth between many and 7, thus requiring a perpetual repetition of the verb. 2. It repeats the same words and synonymous words merely because the writer does not combine all the related phases of the thought, and say once for all : see, meet, etc. 3. It uses words to convey ideas which are perfectly clear from the context, and which therefore merely dilute the sentence : come and go, talk, myself, since being, begin to, where I am, of them, when, sort of, any sort of an . . . on, it is, etc. 4. It makes little attempt to subordinate unimportant phases of the thought none to eliminate predication; but runs along in the infantile form of a string of compound sentences. 5. It uses the exclamatory and the declarative forms of predication in the same sentence. From this study we may educe the following rules: 1. Shift your subject as little as possible within the sen- tence, or in a closely connected group of sentences. By keep- ing the same point of view, you unify your subject-matter, you avoid waste of attention, and you get a close-knit sen- tence to correspond to your unified thought. 2. Avoid repetitions that are nothing more than repeti- tions. Either concentrate on a word and make it do duty 98 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH once for all in a given passage; or if you wish to repeat, place the repeated word in such an emphatic position that the reader sees the emphasis at once : And yet the place establishes an interest in people's hearts; go where they will, they find no city of the same distinction; go where they tvill, they take a pride in their old home. Stevenson. This, as you see, is done by the use of parallel structure in which the repeated word has each time the same emphatic position. For effective repetition of a word see Kipling's digging and digged (for dug) on p. 186. Experienced writers often repeat the same thought in different words; but the student should do this only when it is necessary to drive home an idea with great force because it is complex, or obscure, or for some other reason hard to grasp. In such a case, the repetitions should be as varied as possible affirmative and negative, literal and figurative and arranged in the order of climax. For good examples, see pp. 81 and 88. 3. Watch for and rigorously cut out all words that neither contribute to the ideas nor serve to connect them. 4. Be on the alert to subordinate unimportant ideas; and remember to reduce even eliminate predication when- ever it is not needed for emphasis. 5. Never use the exclamatory sentence unless your emo- tion is essential. And when you feel that you must use it, never try to combine it with the declarative or the interrog- ative form. You will get better structure and more emotional stress if you make it stand alone. As you practise the organization of sentences with a view to fitting them compactly to the thought that they contain, you should observe that there are two general methods of articulation which are used separately and in combination. You may let each phase of the thought grow naturally out of the one before it in a gradual and continuous process which THE SENTENCE 99 may be stopped at various points before the end of the sen- tence is reached. At the first stopping-point you will have a clearly unified impression, to which each later stopping- point will merely add detail. In the following sentence, there are six stopping-points indicated by double spacing be- fore that chosen by the author is reached: In the hurry I could just see Smethurst, red and panting, thrust a couple of clay pipes into my companion's outstretched hand, and hear him crying his farewells after us as we slipped out of the station at an ever-accelerating pace. Stevenson. This type of sentence is called loose. On the other hand, you may develop your thought by keep- ing back until the very end one element of the sentence which is absolutely essential to a correct understanding of the whole. In this way your reader is forced to hold in suspense in his mind all that precedes this important element, in order that when he comes to it he shall see it in its right relations to all the parts that have preceded it. This type of sentence cannot be broken off before the end is reached: Such a description, composed from scanty and dispersed materials, must necessarily be very imperfect. You cannot stop before imperfect and make sense. Again: Of these three estimates, framed without concert by dif- ferent persons from different sets of materials, the highest, which is that of King, does not exceed the lowest, which is that of Finlaison, by one-twelfth. Macatday. Here you cannot stop before twelfth because the degree of difference is the very point of the sentence. This type of sentence is called periodic. Qne of the most important problems for the writer is so to alternate progression and suspense in the movement of his sentences, and within the parts of a single sentence, that the reader is alternately stimulated into sharp attention and 100 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH allowed to drift for a moment's rest while the thought con- tinues without effort on his part. But whether your sentence be loose or periodic, progressive or suspended, it must be articulated to fit the thought exactly, without superfluity of words or extraneous ideas, and without incompleteness, and to give the degree of emphasis that exists in your mind with reference to every phase of the thought that you are organizing into one sentence. ASSIGNMENT 1. Study the sentences on p. 180 of this book from the point of view of compactness of structure. Suggest improvements wherever you can. 2. Note the sentences in this same passage which are entirely loose or progressive, and those which are entirely periodic or sus- pended. Analyze the elements of suspense which you find in the sentences in which both methods of development appear. When- ever it is possible to change from the one type to the other, do so, and discuss differences in effect. 3. Take two pages of any article in a good magazine and study the sentences in the same way. 10. CLEARNESS The simplest requisite for perfect clearness in the construc- tion of any sentence is grammatical correctness. It would seem reasonable to assume that college students write sen- tences which are grammatically correct; but experience shows that this is not invariably the case. It is true, how- ever, that of the sentence errors listed as bad English in Appendix VIII, comparatively few are made habitually by the majority of students. Each student has his own list, which varies somewhat from that of every other student according to the circumstances of his birth and early training. Foreign-born students have their special problems; students who come from widely differing sections of this country and from different strata of society have theirs. The correction THE SENTENCE 101 of these errors is a problem purely individual and personal, to be solved by individual hard work, with or without the guidance of a tutor. The common sources of confusion of thought in the sentence are placed together in the Appen- dix, where it is hoped each student can find what he needs. It is only by persistent drill that weaknesses can be gradually eliminated; and as long as these errors persist, hope of achieving distinction in the use of English must remain distant. A second requisite for perfect clearness is proper arrange- ment of parts of the sentence, with proper punctuation to show their relationships and the degree of emphasis to be accorded to each. This point has been fully discussed in connection with each type of sentence, and the invariable rules of punctuation have been given in the earlier section on Good Form. But as a guide in cases of doubt we have added a tabulation of the uses of the marks in Appendix VI. By reference to this you should be able to clarify vague im- pressions and to supplement your theory when necessary. A third requisite for perfect clearness is the mastery of the pronoun. The pronoun is one of the most convenient parts of speech when its use is thoroughly understood; but it is a double-edged tool, and is dangerous when it is not turned in the right way : that is, so that its reference is unmistakable. Aside from the grammatical rules for the agreement of pro- nouns, the principles that underlie their proper use are simple: 1. Keep each pronoun in the sentence as near as possible to its antecedent. This, naturally, involves a clear understand- ing as to which word is its antecedent. Note the confusion in the following: I came across one of these sparrow-tamers by chance, and was much amused at the scene, which to anyone not acquainted with birds, appears marvellous; but it [what?] is really as simple as pos- sible, and you can repeat it for yourself if you have patience, for 102 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH they [the tamers or the birds?] are so sharp they soon understand you. 2. Never allow between a pronoun and its antecedent any substantive that might be mistaken for the antecedent: In the heat of the sun the furze-pods kept popping and bursting open; they are often as full of insects as seeds, which come creeping out. Obviously it is the insects that creep out; but the pronoun refers to seeds. 3. Never use a pronoun when there is any doubt as to which of two or more substantives is its antecedent. When- ever there is room for doubt, either repeat the substantive, or if, as is often the case, the difficulty occurs in indirect discourse, rewrite the passage as a direct quotation: As Smith and Brown walked home, he [which?] began to talk of his [whose?] troubles. This is made unmistakable as follows: As Smith and Brown walked home, ( Smith b Jk f ^ troubles. 1 Brown ' Or: As Smith and Brown walked home, { Smith b tQ ^ of Brown s . , , I Brown ic- -ii troubles. [ Smith s Smith told Brown that his [whose?] invention would bring him [whom?] good returns. Here the meaning is quite obscure, but is clarified at once by the use of quotation: Smith said to Brown, "My invention will bring me good returns." My ' you Your " " " me " " Your " " " you " " For particular errors in the use of pronouns, see Appen- dix VIII. 4. Always be sure that the antecedent of a pronoun is definitely expressed as a substantive: THE SENTENCE 103 Hattie had been shut up in the house for so many hours that she suddenly discovered that she could not bear it [what?] another minute. 5. Another aid to clearness is parallelism. But it must be used consistently; that is, it must put into the same con- struction and coordinate only such ideas as really have the same function and the same importance in the sentence. The most important rule for parallelism is that the parallel elements should be in precisely the same form. Do not coordinate: (1) Infinitive and gerund: To study and walking are my chief pleasures. (2) Infinitive and finite verb. He said to go and that he would join us later. (3) Active and passive voice: The club met at Mrs. Johnson's, and a delightful time was had by all. (4) A word or a phrase and a clause: He urged haste and that a committee be appointed. He asked for help to be given them, and that it be done quickly. Another important rule is that when phrases or subordinate clauses are made parallel, the introductory word preposi- tion, participle, or conjunction should, as a rule, be re- peated before each in order to show the parallelism at a glance: In my mind is a jumbled vision of huge wooden cows cut out in profile and offering from dry udders a fibrous milk; of tins of bis- cuits portrayed with a ghastly realism of perspective, and menda- ciously screaming that I needed them U-need-a-biscuit; of gigantic quakers, multipled as in an interminable series of mirrors, and offer- ing me a myriad meals of indigestible oats; of huge, painted bulls in a kind of discontinuous frieze bellowing to the heavens a chal- lenge to produce a better tobacco than theirs; of the head of a gentleman, with pink cheeks and a black moustache, recurring, 104 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH like a decimal, ad infinitum on the top of a board, to inform me that his beauty is the product of his own toilet powder; of codfish with- out bones "the kind you have always bought"; of bacon packed in glass jars; of whiz suspenders, sen-sen throat-ease, sure-fit hose, and the whole army of patent medicines. G. Lowes Dickinson. Note that the of is repeated seven times, and then in the last phrase, where a number of incongruous things are crowded together for purposes of humor, it is omitted. To be effective, parallel constructions should be arranged in the order of climax: There is one pursuit, commerce; one type, the business man; one ideal, that of increasing wealth. Monotony of talk, monotony of ideas, monotony of aim, monotony of outlook on the world. G. Lowes Dickinson. A special type of parallelism is the balanced sentence the arrangement of coordinate clauses in pairs, so that one will offset the other. This is commonly, though not necessarily, combined with the figure of antithesis, or contrast of ideas. Mr. Lowes Dickinson has a chapter in his Appearances in which most of the sentences are constructed on this plan. He is making a series of distinctions between the man of action and the dreamer (the Red-blood and the Mollycoddle; note the figure in the names). The following extract is characteristic: The Red-blood sees nothing; but the Mollycoddle sees through everything. The Red-blood joins societies; the Mollycoddle is a non-joiner. (Individualist of individualists, he can only stand alone, while the Red-blood requires the support of a crowd.) The Mollycoddle engenders ideas, and the Red-blood exploits them. The Mollycoddle discovers, and the Red-blood invents. The whole structure of civilization rests on foundations laid by Mollycoddles; but all the building is done by Red-bloods. The Red-blood de- spises the Mollycoddle; but, in the long run, he does what the Mollycoddle tells him. The Mollycoddle also despises the Red- blood, but he cannot do without him. Each thinks he is master of the other, and, in a sense, each is right. In his lifetime the Molly- THE SENTENCE 105 coddle may be the slave of the Red-blood; but after his death, he is his master, though the Red-blood know it not. In this passage it is interesting to note the slight variations in form by which monotony is avoided. Without such varia- tions parallelism quickly becomes tiresome. It should not be used for many sentences in succession except by writers who know how to secure variety; but for single sentences involving a great number of details it is an admirable device for clearness. ASSIGNMENT 1. Distribute the reading of Appendix VIII over two days, check- ing in your book faults of which you are aware, and noting the cor- rections. Then examine the papers that you have written thus far this year, and in the light of the errors that you find in them, add more checks, at the same time correcting the error in each case, if this has not been done already. 2. Explain the use of punctuation as an aid to clearness in the quotation on p. 103. 3. Criticize the following passage with regard to its sentences, and experiment with different punctuations: Again, you will find, if you travel long in America, that you are suffering from a kind of atrophy. You will not, at first, realize what it means. But suddenly it will flash upon you that you are suffering from lack of conversation. You do not converse; you cannot; you can only talk. It is the rarest thing to meet a man who, when a subject is started, is willing or able to follow it out into its ramifica- tions, to play with it, to embroider it with pathos or with wit, to penetrate to its roots, to trace its connections and affinities. Ques- tion and answer, anecdote and jest, are the staples of American conversation; and above all, information. They have a hunger for positive facts. And you may hear them hour after hour rehearsing to one another their travels, their business transactions, their experiences in trains, in hotels, on steamers, till you begin to feel you have no alternatives before you but murder or suicide. An American, broadly speaking, never detaches himself from experi- ence. His mind is embedded in it; it moves wedged in fact. His only escape is into humor; and even his humor is but a formula of exaggeration. It implies no imagination, no real envisaging of its object. It does not illuminate a subject; it extinguishes it, clamp- ing upon every topic the same grotesque mould. That is why it 106 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH does not amuse the English. For the English are accustomed to Shakspere and to the London cabby. G. Lowes Dickinson. 4. Insert commas and semicolons as needed in the following sen- tences : The soft autumn sunshine shorn of summer glare lights up with color the ferns the fronds of which are yellow and brown the leaves . the grey grass and hawthorn sprays already turned. Like the fields which can only support a certain proportion of cattle the forest wide as it seems can only maintain a certain number of deer. [Place only in its correct position in each clause.] With starlings wood pigeons and rooks the forest is crowded like a city in spring but now in autumn it is comparatively deserted. [Change the order for clearness and emphasis.] The birds are away in the fields some at the grain others watch- ing the plow and following it as soon as a furrow is opened. If timber is felled it is removed and the bark and boughs with it the stump too is grubbed and split for firewood. When the thickets are thinned out the fagots are carted away and much of the fern is also removed. No charcoal-burning is practised but the mere maintenance of the fences as for instance round the pheasant enclosures gives much to do. Beneath the ashes of the first frost the air is full of the bitterness of their blackened leaves which have all come down at once. Next came a moth and after the moth a golden fly and three gnats and a mouse ran along the dry ground with a curious sniffling rustle close to Guido. "Oh no dear the house I was then thinking of is gone like a leaf withered and lost." "The dew dries very soon on wheat Guido dear because wheat is so dry first the sunrise makes the tips of the wheat ever so faintly rosy then it grows yellow then as the heat increases it becomes white at noon and golden in the afternoon and white again under the moonlight." "If we had never before looked upon the earth but suddenly came to it man or woman grown set down in the midst of a summer mead would it not seem to us a radiant vision?" Richard Jefferies. 5. Name the antecedent of every pronoun in the quotation on p. 105 of this book, and show whether or not the reference is as it should be. 6. Collect from the quotations used in this book or from your reading in general ten or more sentences that illustrate parallelism, writing them on cards, one to a card, Try to find examples of as many kinds of parallelism as possible: in coordinate and in sub- THE SENTENCE 107 ordinate clauses; in phrases; in balanced sentences, containing comparisons of likeness and of unlikeness; in similes and antitheses. 11. EUPHONY AND RHYTHM There are two other qualities of the well-built sentence which must be pondered by everyone who wishes to write well. These are euphony the relation of sound to sound and rhythm the relation of word accents, group stresses, within the sentence and in sentences closely related within the paragraph. For learning how to combine these relationships as effect- ively as possible, there is only one rule: You must train your ear. And again, for training the ear there is only one rule: You must study the methods used by successful writers. This can be done only by first reading aloud until you find a passage notably pleasant or unpleasant in sound and rhythm, and then analyzing the passage to discover the causes of your pleasure or distress. As you read more in this way, you will become increasingly aware of subtle relation- ships that had altogether escaped you at first. Let us take each quality in turn. No trained ear is needed to hear cacophony in the sentence: Like Mike, he gets sick quite^ quickly. In general, when, hi reading, you must stop and give thought to the combinations of sounds, the obstructions are probably due to a bad style that is, a style in which the problems of euphony have not been considered. If you read enough good literature aloud, and, in close connection with such reading, form the habit of reading aloud what you write, you will, consciously or unconsciously, develop a sense of euphony and so at the very least learn to avoid striking defects. At this stage of your study you cannot of course make careful observations of the infinitely various possibilities of sound combinations to produce precisely the effects you desire, 108 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH but you can at least avoid the unintended hissing of too many s's, the accidental rhyming of accented and unaccented syllables, the monotony of a sound or group of sounds re- peated without variation, the clashing of sounds similar yet not quite the same. As a general introduction to the subject, you cannot find anything better than these words of Steven- son's: Each phrase in literature is built of sounds, as each phrase in music consists of notes. One sound suggests, echoes, demands, and har- monizes with another; and the art of rightly using these concord- ances is the final art in literature. It used to be a piece of good advice to all young writers to avoid alliteration; and the advice was sound, in so far as it. prevented daubing. None the less for that, was it abominable nonsense, and the mere raving of those blindest of the blind who will not see. The beauty of the contents of a phrase, or of a sentence, depends implicitly upon alliteration and upon assonance. The vowel demands to be repeated; the consonant demands to be repeated; and both cry aloud to be per- petually varied. You may follow the adventures of a letter through any passage that has particularly pleased you; find it, perhaps, denied awhile, to tantalize the ear; find it fired again at you in a whole broadside; or find it pass into congenerous words, one liquid or labial melting away into another. And you will find another and much stranger circumstance. Literature is written by and for two senses: a sort of internal ear, quick to perceive "unheard melodies"; and the eye, which directs the pen and deciphers the printed page. If you will study this paragraph carefully and apply its teaching to any good piece of prose including itself you will begin to see the meaning of euphony in writing. In close connection with euphony stands rhythm, the grouping of word accents and stresses needed to bring out the meaning, both within the sentence and in the group of sentences. Here again reading aloud is the all-important rule. There are however a few hints which may be helpful. 1. Do not begin all your sentences with the same parts of speech and develop them in the same order. To avoid the monotony that would result there are two methods. You THE SENTENCE 109 can study how to join sentences together within the par- agraph by rearranging their elements so that parts which are related to ideas in preceding or following sentences are placed at the beginning and the end (see p. 136 below). And you can make special study of the different elements of the sen- tence used by good writers to begin a sentence. For example, in the following paragraph by Richard Jefferies, five different parts of speech are used to begin eight sentences; and as some of these are emphatic, others not, some bear a word accent, while others do not, the rhythmic effect is of variety. At the same time three closely-connected sentences begin with the same part of speech a strongly-emphasized adjec- tive and continue in parallel construction. The wind passes, and it bends let the wind, too, pass over the spirit. From the cloud-shadow it emerges to the sunshine let the heart come out from the shadow of roofs to the open glow of the sky. High above, the song of the lark falls as rain receive it with open hands. Pure is the color of the green flags, the slender-pointed blades let the thought be pure as the light that shines through that color. Broad are the downs and open the aspect gather the breadth and largeness of view. Never can that view be wide enough and large enough, there will always be room to aim higher. As the air of the hills enriches the blood, so let the presence of these beautiful things enrich the inner sense. One memory of the green corn, fresh beneath the sun and wind, will lift up the heart from the clods. Richard Jefferies. 2. In connection with the parallelism of the same par- agraph, observe that the similar clauses are of varying lengths. If they were of approximately the same length, the rhythm of the prose would approach that of verse an effect always to be avoided. 3. Similarly, monotony in the length of words, and in the number and grouping of the accented syllables in word, phrase, and sentence, should be avoided. For this no rule can be suggested beyond that already given. Study the effect of the long word among short words, of the short word 110 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH among long words, of the shifting of accents, as all this is found in good work, and you will by degrees acquire some rhythm of your own. A very little comparison will show you that all good writers have their own rhythms, which in the masters of style become unmistakable. ASSIGNMENT 1. Compare the following passage with other quotations from Stevenson in this book, and try to show that he wrote it: "We begin to see now what an intricate affair is any perfect passage; how many faculties, whether of taste or pure reason, must be held upon the stretch to make it; and why, when it is made, it should afford us so complete a pleasure. " From the arrangement of according letters, which is altogether arabesque and sensual, up to the architecture of the elegant and pregnant sentence, which is a vigorous act of the pure intellect, there is scarcely a faculty in man but has been exercised. We need not wonder, then, if perfect sentences are rare, and perfect pages rarer." 2. Study the passage quoted on p. 109 of this book for euphony and rhythm as follows: Read the discussion of verse rhythms on pp. 398 f. and note the system of marking stressed syllables; then mark similarly the stressed syllables in the passage chosen, count the range in the number of unstressed syllables to stressed, and note the grouping of stressed words. Draw conclusions as to the author's consideration of rhythm. Make a similar study of the passage on p. 170. 3. Study euphony in the same passages. Note the sounds and sound combinations which predominate, and the effects of them. 4. Copy from any source outside this book a paragraph in which you think the author has considered rhythm and euphony in con- structing his sentences, and another in which this has not been done. Write a 300 word paper discussing these two paragraphs. 5. Copy from the work of a good writer eight sentences, each of which begins with a different part of speech. Show in a paper of about 300 words that this variation affects the stresses and so avoids monotony of rhythm. 6. Each of the following quotations contains good material but the sentences are not well-constructed. You are given the parts THE SENTENCE 111 separated by dashes to fit together so as to make a series of effec- tive sentences. Insert all necessary punctuation. (1) Make six or seven sentences ; The first conscious thought about wild flowers was to find out their names the first conscious pleasure and then I began to see so many that I had not previously noticed once you wish to identify them there is nothing escapes down to the little white chickweed of the path and the moss of the wall I put my hand on the bridge across the brook to lean over and look down into the water Are there any fish the bricks of the pier are covered with green, like a wall-painting to the surface of the stream mosses along the lines of the mortar and among the moss little plants what are these in the dry sunlit lane I look up to the top of the great wall about some domain, where the green figs look over upright on their stalks there are dry plants on the coping what are these? (2) Make two or three sentences: The orange-golden dandelion in the sward was deeply laden with color brought to it anew again and again by the ships of the flowers, the humble-bees to their quays they come unlading price- less essences of sweet odors brought from the East over the green seas of wheat unlading priceless colors on the broad dandelion disks, bartering these things for honey and pollen. (3) Make one sentence of each of the following: (a) Rain blown in gusts through the misty atmosphere, gas and smoke-laden deepens the darkness the howl of the blast humming in the telegraph wires hurtling round the chimney-pots on a level with the line rushing up from the archways steam from the engines, roar, and whistle, shrieking brakes, and grinding wheels how is the traffic worked at night in safety over the in- extricable windings of the iron roads into the City? (b) The hues, the shapes, the song and life of birds, above all the sunlight, the breath of heaven, resting on it the mind would be filled with its glory, unable to grasp it, hardly believing that such things could be mere matter and no more. (c) Fourteen hours of sun and labor and hard fare now tell him what to do to go straight to his plank bed in the cowhouse to eat a little more dry bread, borrow some cheese or greasy bacon munch it alone, and sit musing till sleep came he who had nothing to muse about I think it would need a very clever man indeed to invent something for him to do, some way for him to spend his evenings read to recommend a man to read after fourteen hours of burning sun is indeed a mockery darn his stockings would be better. (d) The wheat was springing the soft air full of the growth and moisture blackbirds whistling wood-pigeons nesting young leaves out a sense of swelling, sunny fulness in the atmosphere. 112 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 12. SENTENCE BUILDING In the construction of the sentence there is involved an art which can be taught and learned. As the sculptor ac- quires skill in the shaping of clay, becomes expert in drawing it out and compressing it, taking away a bit here, adding a bit there, molding and remolding it until it represents to his satisfaction the thing he has in mind, so he who works in sentences must deal with words. No degree of manual dex- terity will make an artist of a worker in clay; and no degree of mere cleverness in the manipulation of words and phrases will make a great writer. But, on the other hand, no artist ever became a sculptor without being sufficiently master of his clay to make it express his mind; and no writer ever attained any degree of excellence until he had learned in some measure the craft of fitting and adjusting his sentences to the form of his ideas. And it is further true that skill in the craft of writing goes far toward removing obstacles to the very formation of the ideas that are required for self- expression. Stevenson perhaps with undue self-deprecia- tion said of his own talent that it was not extraordinary; but he also recognized the undoubted fact that he owed his high position as a writer in large part to his admirable craft- manship. And his skill in this respect, which is little short of amazing, he acquired by the hardest sort of hard work. If you read his letters, you will come to realize what can be accomplished by sheer application to matters of technique. There are many gifted young writers to-day who will fail of a lasting position in literature chiefly because they either do not recognize this principle or do not take the trouble to apply it. In regard to sentences particularly, the difficulty of the inexperienced writer is at first largely due to the fact that he looks upon them as a sort of crystallization of thought, which becomes permanent as soon as it is conceived. As soon as he THE SENTENCE 113 comes to realize the plasticity of phrasing, he is on the way to become a master of the craft of writing. And when the craft is mastered, his degree of success will depend upon the power of his imagination to reflect such aspects of life as it encounters, and to refract, as it were, the confusion of experience into types and principles of truth. But before this can be attempted or even dreamed of, he must labor with sentences. He must, in the beginning, con- ceive as in array before him the entire range of possibilities that determine the shaping of each sentence. By all means, let the sentence have its way at first let the thought come as it will naturally. But then hold it off and look at it to see if it has come in the best possible way for the expression of the underlying thought. In many cases, when the writer is unpractised, a mere reading especially reading aloud will show ways in which almost any sentence can be improved. But as the unpractised writer is also likely to be uncritical, he needs to bring into consciousness all the possibilities of improvement in every doubtful case. He needs to ask him- self such questions as these: Does the situation really warrant this use of the exclam- atory form of sentence? Or would the plain declarative be better? Or would the interrogative form in this case be a happy compromise in emphasis between the two? Are the ideas in this compound sentence really coordinate, or would it be better to subordinate some of them? If so, which? Is this compound sentence too long? Shall I break it up into simple sentences? What happens if I do? Are these simple sentences too short and jerky? Shall I combine them or some of them into a compound sentence? Or would it be better to subordinate some of them and make a complex sentence? Are the ideas in this compound sentence parallel? Are my constructions parallel? Shall I make them so? How? 114 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH In this complex sentence, are the subordinate clauses so arranged that the emphasis falls where it should? If not, how shall I rearrange them? Would it be better to use a phrase for this clause? or a clause for this phrase? Is this phrase or clause an essential modifier or not? Then how about the punctuation? These are only the most elementary of the questions that should be asked. With practice, the answers to them will become increasingly an instinct, so that they are settled without really coming into the writer's consciousness at all; but their places will be taken by others, which must likewise be settled by deliberation until they in turn become a part of the subconscious regulation of detail which enables the skilled craftsman in writing to throw his whole attention upon the ideas that he is trying to express. It is true, on the one hand, that the sentence problem never reaches the vanishing point; and on the other, that no writer has ever manipulated his sentences to such a degree of per- fection that there is not here and there room for improve- ment. If perfection were easily attained, writing would cease to be an art with infinite possibilities of variation, and become a demonstrable science like mathematics. It is ex- actly because of the infinite flexibility and variability of lan- guage, as it grows through phrasing from the single word to the thought predication that is called the sentence, that literature is able increasingly to express all phases of human experience and thinking. One final word as to the keeping and breaking of rules: you must keep them until you are their master. When you are able to play with the sentence as a juggler plays with his knives and not until then you may make your own laws for its construction. You may then, if it suits your pur- pose to do so, punctuate as sentences groups of words that are not sentences, as Kipling does in the following example: THE SENTENCE 115 The pitiless Moon shows it all. Shows, too, the plains outside the city, and here and there a hand's-breadth of the Ravee without the walls. Shows lastly, a splash of glittering silver on a house-top almost directly below the mosque Minar. The last two groups of words are not sentences they have no subject: they are sweeps of the brush in painting a pic- ture. They are related to the introductory sentence, which alone contains the subject; and yet they are more distinct dabs of paint, to use an artist's figure, then if each contained a subject. In the next sentence, the predicate is omitted in order to throw more emphasis upon the sounds than upon the hearing of them: More tinkling of sluiced water-pots; faint jarring of wooden bedsteads moved into or out of the shadows; uncouth music of stringed instruments softened by distance into a plaintive wail, and one low grumble of far-off thunder. Kipling. Only the skilled craftsman may attempt this sort of thing; but to admire it is of service to the apprentice: it shows him in concrete form that flexibility of structure which is one of the foundations of art. Similarly, the apprentice must come to understand that faithfulness in following the well-worn paths of punctuation will bring him to the point where he may have commas and semicolons at his command. The following sentence from Stevenson is not punctuated according to rule, but the longer pauses indicated by the semicolons emphasize the bareness of the room: It was very bare of furniture: only some gold plate on a sideboard; some folios; and a stand of armor between the windows. But the structure of a sentence is not entirely a problem of internal economy; it depends in large degree upon the char- acter of the sentence that precedes and the one that follows. This fact brings us to the discussion of the paragraph as an organization of sentences. 116 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze the sentences in the following paragraphs from as many points of view as possible length, structure, form, punctua- tion, balance, suspense, parallelism, emphasis, phrasing, economy, etc. "But there is of culture another view, in which not solely the scientific passion, the sheer desire to see things as they are, natural and proper in an intelligent being, appears as the ground of it. There is a view in which all the love of our neighbor, the impulses toward action, help, and beneficence, the desire for removing human error, clearing human confusion, and diminishing human misery, the noble aspiration to leave the world better and happier than we found it, motives eminently such as are called social, come in as part of the grounds of culture, and the main and preeminent part. Culture is then properly described not as having its origin in curiosity, but as having its origin in the love of perfection; it is a study of perfection. It moves by the force, not merely or primarily of the scientific passion for pure knowledge, but also of the moral and social passion for doing good. As, in the first view of it, we took for its worthy motto Montesquieu's words: 'To render an intelligent being yet more intelligent' so, in the second view of it, there is no better motto which it can have than these words of Bishop Wilson: 'To make reason and the will of God prevail.' " Matthew Arnold. "That only is true enlargement of mind which is the power of viewing many things at once as one whole, of referring them severally to their true place in the universal system, of understanding their respective values, and determining their mutual dependence. Thus is that form of Universal Knowledge, of which I have on a former occasion spoken, set up in the individual intellect, and constitutes its perfection. Possessed of this real illumination, the mind never views any part of the extended subject-matter of Knowledge with- out recollecting that it is but a part, or without the associations which spring from this recollection. It makes everything in some sort lead to everything else; it would communicate the image of the whole to every separate portion, till that whole becomes in imagination like a spirit, everywhere pervading and penetrating its component parts, and giving them one definite meaning." John Henry Newman. 2. Discuss the following sentences (1) as giving a statement of the theory of the sentence, and (2) as exemplifications of this theory: "Each sentence, by successive phrases, shall first come into a THE SENTENCE 117 kind of knot, and then, after a moment of suspended meaning, solve and clear itself. Each phrase, besides, is to be comely in itself; and between the implication and the evolution of the sentence there should be a satisfying equipoise of sound; for nothing more often disappoints the ear than a sentence solemnly and sonorously prepared, and hastily and weakly finished. Nor should the balance be too striking and exact, for the one rule is to be infinitely various; and to interest, to disappoint, to surprise, and yet still to gratify; to be ever chang- ing, as it were, the stitch, and yet still to give the effect of an in- genious neatness." Stevenson. CHAPTER VII THE PARAGRAPH 1. EXTERNAL ORGANIZATION THE paragraph, like the sentence, is an organization of thought. The sentence is the smallest unit of thought that can stand alone in written discourse, and its component parts are words; the paragraph is the next larger unit, and its com- ponent parts are sentences. The paragraph, in turn, is also a component part of every organized piece of writing, whether this be story, article, or chapter of a book. Every paragraph, then, is to be viewed in two ways: Externally, as a component part of an organized piece of writing. The word composition means putting together; hence, a composition is an organization of parts paragraphs. Internally, as in itself an organization of which the com- ponent parts are sentences. As sentences are set apart from one another by means of capitals and punctuation marks, so paragraphs are set apart from one another by indention. NOTE. In writing, the usual margin is doubled for indention; in print it is increased by the width of the letter M. When single spacing is used in a typewritten letter, it is cus- tomary to leave double spacing between paragraphs. In a short piece of writing for example, less than two thousand words each paragraph would usually contain all that is said about one main section or phrase of the subject. To get a clear idea of this, study the following outlines for short papers: 118 THE PARAGRAPH 119 1. General framework 1f 1 The Structure Fuselage f 2 of an Wings f 3 Aeroplane Engine ^[ 4 Propeller f 5 (2000 words) (300-500 words each) 2. ,-, , _ .. Better buying fl 1 Food Conservation More scientific menus f 2 l n e Smaller portions f 3 Uses of left-overs and other waste ^ 4 (1200 words) (about 300 words each) 3. The furnace 1f 1 The materials f Glass Blowing The implements Shaping and blowing Tinting If 5 (1000 words) (100-300 words each) 4. Valenciennes ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ;' Malines, etc [ 4 (500 words) 100-200 words each) But in a longer, more complex composition this simple re- lationship does not answer. The Structure of the Aeroplane, for example, in a 5000 word article, would involve two sets of heads, main heads and subheads. The main heads might be the essential parts in the construction of any typical machine framework, fuselage, wings, engine, propeller, etc., and five or six standard types of .aeroplanes and the subheads, the variations in the different types of machines with reference to the structural parts, as far as they show variations. The paragraphs would then be grouped: 120 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Framework. . I. Theoretical Aeroplane Fuselage If 2 Wings If 3 Engine f 4 Propeller f fl II. Curtis Training Machine. Subheads 1-5, or as many as are needed to show variations from Type A, your foundation type III. Handley-Page Type: same arrangement. In a piece of work long enough to make a book, the larger divisions of the thought that is, the clusters of paragraphs are often given section and chapter numbers. You will see at once that a very complex treatment of a subject will necessarily contain cluster within cluster of such divisions until the smallest consists of a series of paragraphs. We shall discuss further on the structure of the story, the description, the exposition, the argument; but at this point you should see clearly that any piece of writing, considered as a unit, should consist of a series, or a series of clusters, of organically related paragraphs. ASSIGNMENT 1. Study the paragraphing in Section 10, pp. 100-105 of this book, by writing the subject of each paragraph and discussing in class the relation of the paragraphs to one another. 2. Sketch the paragraphing, according to the plans on p. 119, for a composition of less than a thousand words on each of the following subjects. Where you lack information, get it from books or periodi- cals, following the directions in pp. 23-25. Milton's Works. American Pioneers in Aviation. Types of Boats Used in the Navy. Raising Chickens. The Commonest Stanza Forms Used in English. The Financing of Public Utilities. ' Electrical Household Device.-'. THE PARAGRAPH 121 2. LENGTH What determines the length of a paragraph? Theoret- ically, it is governed by the principle that controls sentence length : that is, organization keeping together what belongs together in thought. In other words, as you try to keep within the unifying limits of the sentence the most closely related parts of the thought, so within the unifying limits of the paragraph, you keep the most closely related sentences. But with paragraphs as with sentences practical considera- tions must be taken into account. What is the effect upon your mind of looking at two pages of print in which not a single paragraph indention appears? A paragraph that extends over two or more pages of printed matter, although it may be perfectly unified in thought, will involve a great strain upon the attention of the reader. He will be con- tinually looking for signs of a plan underlying the mass of detail presented; and often he cannot be sure that he has found that plan until he has reached the end of the paragraph. Consequently, his impression of the whole will be blurred. To avoid this obstruction to clearness, the writer who habitually thinks in long paragraphs should consider, when- ever he finds himself overstepping reasonable limits, whether his single paragraph cannot be better organized as a cluster of paragraphs. For such a writer, it is a good rule to have usually at least one paragraph indention on each page of manuscript. On the other hand, the writer who habitually includes only two or three sentences in a paragraph, or who even writes a single sentence as a paragraph, should practise organizing a cluster of these short paragraphs into a long paragraph whenever it is possible to do so. For him a good rule is not to allow more than two or three paragraphs on a page (except in quoting conversation; see below). In learning to paragraph, then, you should avoid the two 122 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH extremes. If your paragraph runs over the page, you may easily forget its beginning and the principle on which you are constructing it, and may allow it to go on indefinitely, and so lose all its organization. If you make a new paragraph for every third or fourth sentence, you will inevitably think disjointedly and scrappily. Whatever your natural tendency in paragraphing is, try to counterbalance it by making a deliberate effort in the opposite direction. The best writers use both long and short paragraphs in the same piece of work, combining them in such a way as to reflect the varying phases and currents of their thought. In writing conversation a special rule for paragraphing is followed by good writers: Make a fresh paragraph for each change of speaker. "Did you tell him?" asked Jean, playing nervously with her hatpins. "What did he say?" "Yes. Nothing." "Was he pleased?" "I don't think so. He looked annoyed. I was sorry I had men- tioned the matter. You never can tell about a man." Finally, in order to establish a critical attitude toward your own paragraphing, it is a good plan to give all your finished work a special reading merely as an organization of related paragraphs; and viewing it as a whole, to mark changes that improve the structure. Insert the ^ mark in the margin to indicate the beginning of a paragraph not already shown by indention; and connect the end of one paragraph and the beginning of the next by a curve CS~)> writing in the margin "No 1[," or "run on" to indicate that two paragraphs are to run together into one. ASSIGNMENT 1. Make a study of paragraph lengths in the current issue of your newspaper: (a) in a news article; (b) in an editorial. Count the number of sentences, and the number of words in each sen- THE PARAGRAPH 123 tence. Omit portions of the text reporting conversation, as here the length is arbitrarily determined. Sum up your results on news- paper paragraphing. 2. Make a similar study of an article of about 2000 words in some good magazine. 3. Repeat the process for a chapter in some textbook. If you feel that some paragraphs are too long, show how they might be broken up to advantage. 4. Continue the work in some book that you are reading for pleasure (if this is a novel, choose a portion in which there is no conversation). 5. Write a short paper (300-500 words), discussing the results of the four preceding studies. 6. Write as accurate a report as you can of a short conversation overheard by you recently, paragraphing it correctly. 7. Read carefully the most elaborate paper that you have written this year on any subject, and mark in it any changes in paragraphing that you would now introduce. 3. INTERNAL ORGANIZATION When you have outlined your paper, you find that each head suggests material for a paragraph or group of par- agraphs. How shall you proceed to fill in the outline to organize your sentences under each division of the thought? Here, as in the case of the sentence, the fundamental idea is movement. The thought must progress from the first sentence to the last; the reader must feel that he is going forward, not round and round in a circle. It is not enough merely to tie together a group of sentences all relating to the same topic; they must be placed so that each marks a definite advance toward a goal that you have in mind when you begin the paragraph. If you wish your reader to share your knowledge of that goal, you may state it in a sentence technically known as the topic sentence at the beginning of the paragraph; or you may remind him of it by using such a sentence at some point within the paragraph, if it fits in well; or you may sum 124 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH up the content of the paragraph in such a sentence at the end. The use of a topic sentence always makes for clearness. Written invariably at the beginning of each paragraph, it gives a certain formality to the composition; but this formal- ity can be avoided by shifting the position of the topic sen- tence, so that the reader does not look for it in some special place. But whether you state it in your paper or not, it should always lie before you in your outline; and continual reference to it will help to keep you to the point. The development of the paragraph its progression toward its goal is to a considerable extent determined by the sub- ject itself. You will inevitably think in one of three ways about any subject which you are going to discuss: 1. If it is concrete a person, thing, place, event, etc. you will naturally think about its parts and qualities; you will develop it by details. 2. If it is abstract a class, a truth, a law you will look for illustrations of it in the concrete; you may develop it by examples. 3. Instead of developing the topic by details or examples, you may simply repeat the same idea in different ways; that is, you may develop it by repetition. In one of these three ways you must think; but they deter- mine only the content of your paragraph, not the order in which the sentences shall stand. Which detail shall be given first? which example? in what order shall the repetitions of an idea be arranged? The answers to these questions depend partly upon the subject and partly upon the effect desired. Details usually are arranged in some time-order in narra- tion; in some place-order in description; in some order of logical relation in exposition. Further, a paragraph con- sisting of one or two long illustrations may build up each of these on principles of time, place, or relationship order; but a paragraph consisting of a group of examples or repetitions THE PARAGRAPH 125 must be arranged on some other principle; and there are many cases in which details do not fall into any obvious arrangement of time, place, or logical relationship, but must be grouped on some other basis. Now remembering that the fundamental idea of the par- agraph is movement, progress, you will see that this progress can be maintained by two general methods: 1. You may arrange your details, examples, or repetitions in the order of climax, so that each in turn produces a stronger impression than the one before. The deepening impression may be due to greater interest, importance, or complexity of idea, or to more striking or beautiful expression of the same idea. But unless there is this kind of progress, the reader's attention will flag, and your hold upon him will weaken. 2. You may, instead of moving straight forward to a climax as your goal, zig-zag by the use of comparison, which shows analogy or contrast between the thought of a paragraph and another thought introduced into the paragraph for the sake of this effect; or between the details or examples which are already component parts of the paragraph. This method of comparison you may apply in various ways: One is, to balance one set of details or examples over against another, so that their resemblances or differences will be emphasized by their position; another is, to carry some figure of speech, practically always a metaphor or simile or antithesis, through- out the paragraph, introducing the comparison or contrast into every sentence. The most effective paragraphing is that in which both these methods are used with the greatest freedom, either singly or in combination. In order to see how freely they are blended, let us analyze a number of paragraphs : 1. The trouble began over the question of Repentance. 2. George was willing, nay eager, to repent of anything, if only he could think of something worth repenting of. 3. But he couldn't. 4. A thou- sand times he told himself that he was a miserable sinner, but he 126 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH didn't feel like one, and couldn't for the life of him understand what wrong he had done. 5. It is true he had fired a pea-shooter at the cat; he had once killed a blackbird; he had kicked a little boy for making faces at him; he had been rude to his aunt; but he had far too much good sense to treat these actions as the needed raw material for a genuine repentance. 6. Once in his father's study he had seen a cash-box lying open on the table and had seriously debated the question of stealing a sovereign, in order to get a point of departure. 7. But again his good sense came to the rescue. 8. God was not likely to be deceived by so shallow a trick. L. P. Jacks. The development is as follows: 1, topic sentence; 2, 3, de- tails; 4, repetition with more detail; 5, examples, and repeti- tion; 6, example; 7, detail of 6; 8, repetition. The general order is climactic : the last three sentences show more emphat- ically than the preceding George's extreme eagerness to re- pent. The next paragraph, which describes the effect of reading Robinson Crusoe, is developed by repetition: 1. No philosopher has ever had a clearer conception of the true end of man than I had at the age of twelve. 2. All forms of self- realization were false save one; and that was, to get oneself cast away, by hook or crook, upon a Desolate Island. 3. Nothing else would satisfy. 4. Let others go to Heaven if they would; let others be good, or great; but let me be cast on some lonely palm-strewn shore in the uttermost parts of the earth. 5. It was the foolish ship that came to port; it was the wise ship that was wrecked. 6. Not for all the kingdoms of this world would I have exchanged my keg of powder, my cap of goatskin, my fortification, and my raft. L. P. Jacks. The development is as follows: 1, topic; 2, topic repeated in specific terms; 3, repeated negatively; 4, repeated with con- trast; 5, repeated with emphasis on the detail ship; 6, re- peated with emphasis on other details. The order is climac- tic, the features last mentioned are those which especially appealed to the boy's imagination. The next paragraph is developed chiefly by examples, with some repetition and detail: THE PARAGRAPH 127 1. It was always the little islands I loved the best, and if they were not only small but very remote, like St. Kilda, Kerguelen, or Juan Fernandez, so that a mariner shipwrecked on their shores might have a reasonable chance of being unrescued for years, I rejoiced like the man who has discovered a treasure hidden in a field. 2. Australia interested me not the least it was too big. 3. No castaway of twelve years could be expected to manage such a place. 4. The Channel Islands were contemptible; they were too near. 5. They suggested the odious possibility of being rescued by a steamer. 6. But the Isles of Aru, Tinian, and Tidore, the Dampier Group, the Solomons, the Celebes these were the places where a castaway of merit might make his mark. L. P. Jacks. The development is as follows: 1, topic, with examples; 2, example; 3, detail, cause; 4, example; 5, detail, cause; 6, repetition of the topic, with more examples. The order is climactic in suggest! veness, as you will see if you compare the lists of islands in 1 and 6. The next paragraph shows the effect of Robinson Crusoe upon a boy's mind when he is ill. The general development is by details; but when these are extraordinary, repetition is used to give them the proper emphasis : 1. The long hours of the sleepless nights, of which I had many, were passed in planning adventures on Desolate Islands. 2. My imagination ran riot, and brought me, I doubt not, perilously near insanity. 3. I painted my islands in colors such as never were on sea or land; 1 stored them with buried treasures; I caused them to be inhabited by every conceivable wild beast; I invaded them with innumerable tribes of savages, and I fought these poor barbarians and slaughtered them at will. 4. I took care that the vessel in which I was wrecked should always have in its hold not only barrels of gunpowder and kegs of sugar, but grand pianos, for I was ex- cessively fond of music, and velocipedes, just invented, one of which had been promised me as a birthday gift. 5. Anachronisms troubled me not a whit. 6. How I got the grand piano ashore would be a long story to tell. 7. It was a vast undertaking, and kept my wits at work for weeks, and prolonged to morning many a sleepless night. 8. Never since the invention of tools was such an elaborate mechan- ism devised as that by which, single-handed, I transported the grand piano from the wreck to my "fortification." 9. I have invented 128 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH many impossible things in my time, but none which does me so much credit as that. L. P. Jacks. The development is as follows: 1, topic; 2, repeated, with detail; 3, 4, details; 5, repetition of part of 4; 6-9, repetition of part of 4, with more details. The order is that of climax, with emphasis thrown by repetition upon the most absurd, hence, under the circumstances, most interesting, detail. The next paragraph is developed by means of one example, which is in turn developed by another example; and this is developed by details in the form of conversation. Note that when a conversation is quoted as a unit to form an example, the usual rule of making a new paragraph for each change of speaker falls into abeyance: Of Rodright's views on Church and State I shall content myself by giving an indication, or rather a sample. He was a Tory in politics; but his views were based less on the conviction that his own party was right than on contempt for the policies of his oppo- nents. "Them Radicals," he would say, "don't know how to play their own game. Look at all this 'ere Radical Finance. Taxin' the rich! Why, there's no such thing. You can't tax the rich. Me and another big-pocketty man was talkin' it over in the Club last night. 'Rod,' he says to me, 'how much is your sovereign worth since the last Budget ? ' ' Fifteen bob at most,' I says. ' Well,' he says, 'does it 'urt you?' 'Not a bit,' I says, 'the smaller they makes my sovereign, the more sovereigns I makes that's all.' 'Same 'ere,' says he." L. P. Jacks. The following paragraph is developed by details which carry out in almost every sentence a comparison suggested as a metaphor in the topic sentence: Evolution is a cosmic game of Pussy wants a corner. Each creature has its eye on some snug corner where it would rest in peace. Each corner is occupied by some creature that is not. al- together satisfied and that is on the lookout for a larger sphere. There is much beckoning between those who are desirous of making a change. Now and then some bold spirit gives up his assured position and scrambles for something better. The chances are that the adventurer finds it harder to attain the coveted place than THE PARAGRAPH 129 he had thought. For the fact is that there are not enough corners to go around. If there were enough corners, and every one were content to stay in the one where he found himself at the beginning, then the game would be impossible. It is well that this never happens. Nature looks after that. When things are too homoge- neous she breaks them up into new and amazing kinds of heteroge- neity. It is a good game, and one learns to like it after he enters into the spirit of it. Samuel McChord Crothers. The following paragraph is developed chiefly by repetition; but the topic sentence contains a contrast, which is continued in each repetition of the idea throughout the paragraph: In every age we shall find the true gentleman that is, the man who represents the best ideal of his own time, and we shall find the mimicry of him, the would-be gentleman who copies the form while ignorant of the substance. These two characters furnish the ma- terial, on the one hand for the romancer, and on the other for the satirist. If there had been no real gentlemen, the epics, the solemn tragedies, and the stirring tales of chivalry would have remained unwritten; and if there had been no pretended gentlemen, the humorist would have lost many a pleasure. Always the contrasted characters are on the stage together; simple dignity is followed by strutting pomposity, and after the hero the braggart swaggers and storms. So ridicule and admiration bear rule by turns. Samuel McChord Crothers. There should be a reason not only for the presence but also for the position of every sentence in the paragraph. If its exact contribution to the thought cannot be explained, it should be cut out as unnecessary or irrelevant; if its exact connection with the preceding and following sentences cannot be explained, it should be better articulated or moved into a better position. In the successful paragraph the thought sweeps forward from sentence to sentence without a break. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze fully the development of the following paragraphs: (1) "Rodright's goods are to be found in all countries of the world both savage and civilized, the only place where you cannot 130 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH obtain them being the city where they are manufactured. Observe those three innocent little dots at the foot of the exquisite bronze Buddha which you purchased for twenty pounds from that un- impeachable dealer in Yokohama. They are the trade-mark of Rodright & Co., Limited, and may be taken to mean that the price of production was half a crown. Or turn to that beautiful old grandfather clock in the Sheraton case, the envy of all your friends as they hang their fur coats in your vestibule; recall the reluctance of the old cottager to part with his heirloom, and the tears he shed, and the shame you felt as you handed him seven five-pound notes; and then take a strong magnifying glass and look for three minute dots in the lower left-hand corner of the clock face. Or take the set of silver buttons which aroused your cupidity as they gleamed on the waistcoat of the peasant who rowed you across the Norwegian fjord. Was it not something of a Vandalism to bribe the old fellow to cut them off; and was it altogether fair to conceal from him that they were precious Danish coins of the seventh century? But never mind; they now adorn your wife's evening dress; and there are three dots on the edge of every one of them." L. P. Jacks. (2) " In the commerce of ideas there must be reciprocity. We will not deal with one who insists that the balance of trade shall always be in his favor. Moreover there must be a spice of incertitude about the transaction. The real joy of the intellectual traffic comes when we sail away like the old merchant adventurers in search of a market. There must be no prosaic bills of exchange: it must be primitive barter. We have a choice cargo of beads which we are willing to exchange for frankincense and ivory. If on some strange coast we should meet simple-minded people who have only wam- pum, perhaps even then we might make a trade." S. M. Crothers. (3) "One very serious drawback to our pleasure in conversation with a too w r ell-informed person is the nervous strain that is in- volved. We are always wondering what will happen when he comes to the end of his resources. After listening to one who discourses with surprising accuracy upon any particular topic, we feel a deli- cacy in changing the subject. It seems a mean trick like suddenly removing the chair on which a guest is about to sit down for the evening. With one who is interested in a great many things he knows little about there is no such difficulty. If he has passed the first flush of youth, it no longer embarrasses him to be caught now and then in a mistake; indeed your correction is welcomed as an agreeable interruption, and serves as a starting point for a new series of observations." Samuel McChord Crothers. (4) "Humor implies mental alertness and power of discrimina- tion [transition sentence connecting with preceding paragraph]. It also implies a hospitality toward all the differences that are recognized. Psychologists speak of the Association of Ideas. It THE PARAGRAPH 131 is a pleasant thought, but it is, in reality, difficult to induce Ideas to associate in a neighborly way. In many minds the different groups are divided by conventional lines, and there are aristocratic prejudices separating the classes from the masses. The Working Hypothesis, honest son of toil that he is, does not expect so much as a nod of recognition from the High Moral Principle who walks by in his Sunday clothes. The steady Habit does not associate with the high-bred Sentiment. They do not belong to the same set. Only in the mind of the humorist is there a true democracy. Here everybody knows everybody. Even the priggish Higher Thought is not allowed to enjoy a sense of superiority. Plain Com- mon Sense slaps him on the back, calls him by his first name, and bids him not make a fool of himself." Samuel McChord Crothers. (5) "But after being awakened to the sin of romance, I saw that to read a novel merely for recreation is not permissible. The reader must be put upon oath, and before he allows himself to enjoy any incident must swear that everything is exactly true to life as he has seen it. All vagabonds and sturdy vagrants who have no visi- ble means of support, in the present order of things, are to be driven out of the realm of well-regulated fiction. Among these are included all knights in armor; all rightful heirs with a strawberry mark; all horsemen, solitary or otherwise; all princes in disguise; all persons who are in the habit of saying "prithee," or Odzooks," or "by my halidome;" all fair ladies who have no irregularities of feature and no realistic incoherencies of speech; all lovers who fall in love at first sight, and are married at the end of the book and live happily ever after; all witches, fortune-tellers, and gipsies; all spotless heroes and deep-dyed villains; all pirates, buccaneers, North American Indians with a taste for metaphysics; all scouts, hunters, trappers, and other individuals who do not wear store clothes. According to this decree, all readers are forbidden to aid and abet these persons, or to give them shelter in their imagination. A reader who should incite a writer of fiction to romance would be held as accessory before the fact." Samuel McChord Crothers. 2. Analyze the paragraph development of the passages on pp. 116 and 117 of this book. 3. Bring to class six paragraphs which seem to you faulty in development. You may take them from book, newspaper, or magazine. Discuss in class methods by which they might be im- proved; and rewrite them. 4. Look over your papers written this year in any subject, and choose one that seems to you faulty in its paragraphing. Correct it as best you can, and bring it to class for further suggestions from the instructor and students. If you cannot find paragraph errors in your work, choose a long paper and write in the margin 132 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH opposite each paragraph all the methods of development used in it. This study may show you unsuspected faults. 5. Name the methods of development that suggest themselves for single paragraphs on each of the following subjects: (1) Swallows' nests. (2) The intelligence of collies. (3) We should (or should not) have a standing army. (4) Building a camp fire. (5) The effect of music on animals. (6) Why fruit should be sold by weight. (7) Blucher and Wellington at Waterloo. (8) Navajo blankets. (9) The importance of Tampico. (10) Why railway terminals should be electrified. (11) Formal and landscape gardens. (12) Is democracy a failure? 4. STRUCTURAL DEVICES While sentences may often be sufficiently articulated by their thought content, there are certain structural devices which help to knit them together, and which at the same time direct the reader's attention to the relationships be- tween them. These devices thus serve a double purpose. Much use of them results in clearness; too much use, in formality. They are most needed in the expression of com- plex or subtle exposition and argument. In general, you should use them to correct your natural tendencies in ex- pression. If your writing tends to be stiff and formal, avoid the formal connectives, and learn to make reference words articulate your sentences. If your writing tends to be loose- jointed and incoherent, lean heavily upon formal connectives until you have corrected the fault. The most obvious method of stating directly the thought relation between two sentences is by the use of coordinating conjunctions. Of these, and greatly overworked by inexpe- rienced writers merely ties together a series of similar ideas; but, however, nevertheless, notvrithstanding, yet, introduce the THE PARAGRAPH 133 idea of contrast; therefore, for, and because show the relation of cause and effect. Another method of connection by direct statement is by the use of transitional adverbs (words and phrases), which show many kinds of relationship between the sentence in which they stand and the one before. Again, first, second, next, etc., indicate a series; for example, for instance, show that the second sentence illustrates the first; accordingly, and for this reason, hence, and thence, show that the second is the result of the first; at any rate marks a concession; on the other hand shows contrast; indeed, in truth, surely, certainly, nat- urally, of course, are used for emphasis; by the way makes the second sentence parenthetical; to sum up and in a word indicate that the second is a summary of the first. All these are useful expressions, but they must not be over- worked. If the same connective or transition word appears often, it gives an effect of intolerable monotony, as when a young college professor was observed by a diligent student to use the phrase "of course" forty-seven times within a single class period. But even when the phrases are varied, they call attention to the joints between the sentences, and when they are too prominent, they suggest a person who is all knees and elbows. A transitional clause, such as you may say, you may ask, it is true, etc., may sometimes be introduced parenthetically into a sentence; but the effect of thus forcing a comment on the sentence itself, tends toward formality. When, however, formal transition words, phrases, or clauses, are desirable for the sake of clearness, the stiffness that they tend to cause can be minimized by giving them subordinate positions within the sentence. They then serve as reminders without throwing too much emphasis upon the method of joining. The trouble with statistics, strange to say, often lies in the very accuracy with which the figures are given. 134 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Figures themselves, however, are often less emphatic than other methods of expression. A third method of showing thought relationship between sentences is reference. By reference is meant the use of an expression that inevitably carries the mind of the reader or listener back to earlier words or phrases so that he feels the relationship between them. Reference words in a par- agraph should stand out like the piers of a bridge over which the thought passes from sentence to sentence. The most obvious reference word is the pronoun. As the relative pronoun makes for close-knit structure within the sentence, so the use of personal or demonstrative pronouns all referring to the same antecedent may bind together all the sentences in a paragraph: One of the most interesting mechanical devices used in the War is the tank. This machine is also called the caterpillar. It can crawl over or through every sort of obstruction. In the following paragraph the recurrence of he and his, not only in each sentence but in almost every clause, gives a strongly unified impression. Thoreau's thin, penetrating, big-nosed face, even in a bad wood- cut, conveys some hint of the limitations of his character. With his almost acid sharpness of insight, with his almost animal dexterity in act, there went none of that large, unconscious geniality of the world's heroes. He was not easy, not ample, not urbane, not even kind; his enjoyment was hardly smiling, or the smile was not broad enough to be convincing; he had no waste lands nor kitchen-midden in his nature, but was all improved and sharpened to a point. Stevenson. While the pronoun exists for the express purpose of ref- erence, other words or even phrases may be repeated in a succession of sentences within the paragraph in order to bridge the thought. In regard to this repetition two principles must be noted. The first is that if the repeated expression is striking enough THE PARAGRAPH 135 to attract attention to itself, it need not be repeated often. The deeper the impression it makes, the further it will "carry" over the intervening words; that is, unusual words or phrases will be felt as connective at longer intervals than commonplace expressions: "What talk do we commonly hear about the contrast between college education and the education which business or technical or professional schools confer? The college education is called higher because it is supposed to be so general and so disinterested. At the schools, etc." If you are in doubt as to whether your word or phrase will actually be realized as connective, you may quote it, even though you are quoting it from yourself; the quotation marks will call enough attention to it to make the connection hold. In the passage given below, such a phrase is taken from a quotation from another writer; but also, it is made in this case to carry even beyond the limits of one paragraph into the next: Darwin . . . aptly says: "At sea, a person's eye being six feet above the surface of the water, his horizon is two miles and four- fifths distant. In like manner, the more level the plain, the more nearly does the horizon approach within these narrow limits and this, in my opinion, entirely destroys the grandeur which one would have imagined that a vast plain would have possessed." 1 I remember my first experience of a hill, after having been al- ways shut within "these narrow limits." W. H. Hudson. Without quotation marks it is doubtful whether we should have remembered that the phrase was used before. This device is occasionally effective; but it must be used with care. The danger is that it may tempt one to write loosely connected sentences when a better result would have come from the use of more striking phrases or shorter inter- vals between them. The second principle in regard to repetition as a device 1 The author means "would possess." 136 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH for connecting sentences is that the position in the sentence of the repeated word or phrase strongly affects its connective value. The most close-knit structure possible is that in which identical words or phrases are brought together by being placed at the end of one sentence and the beginning of the next. Compare, for instance, the difference in the knitting together of the two following arrangements of sentence groups: Research is the only way to achieve scholarship. I mean by research independent investigation of an unsettled problem. The only way to achieve scholarship is by research. By research I mean independent investigation of an unsettled problem. In using repetition as a connective device, it is not always necessary to use the same words. Synonyms, or any other expressions that suggest the idea that is to be carried on, may be used with good effect. In the following paragraph the idea of earthworm is continued in engine, and that of smooth fat fields in leavening and leveling: The greater activity and abundance of the earthworm, as dis- closed by Darwin, probably has much to do with the smoothness and fatness of those fields, when contrasted with our own. This little yet mighty engine is much less instrumental in leavening and leveling the soil in New England than in Old. John Burroughs. In the following paragraph the italicized words "carry" a long distance: It is the narrowness of the valley and the nearness of the high downs standing over it on either side, with, at some points the memorials of antiquity carved on their smooth surfaces, the bar- rows and lynchetts or terraces, and the vast green earthworks crown- ing their summit. Up here on the turf, even with the lark singing his shrill music in the blue heavens, you are with the prehistoric dead, yourself for the time one of that innumerable, unsubstantial multitude, invisible in the sun, so that the sheep travelling as they graze, and the shepherd following them, pass through their ranks without suspecting their presence. And from that elevation you look down upon the life of to-day the visible life, so brief in the individual, which, like the swift silver stream beneath, yet flows THE PARAGRAPH 137 on continuously from age to age and for ever. And even as you look down you hear, at that distance, the bell of the little hidden church tower telling the hour of noon, and quickly following, a shout of freedom and joy from many shrill voices of children just released from school. W. H. Hudson. Finally, a phrase, clause, or an entire sentence, summing up the thought of a paragraph, may be used at the beginning of the next paragraph in order to keep clearly before the reader the movement of the thought: But when art and science and philosophy have done their best [this sums up the preceding paragraph], there is a great deal of valuable material left over [this introduces the new paragraph]. . . . There it [truth] stands in all its shameless actuality asking, "What do you make of me?" Just here comes the beneficent mission of humor. . . . I have said that one may be a true poet without having any very important thought to communicate [summary of earlier paragraph], but it must be said that most great poets have been serious thinkers as well [new paragraph topic]. Samuel McChord Crothers. ASSIGNMENT 1. Mark all the structural devices for articulating sentences within the paragraphs on p. 130 of this book. In class discussion try the effect of omitting or changing the devices. Decide where they are successfully used, and where they might be added or omitted to the improvement of the text. 2. Read the passages quoted on pp. 116, 125-131 of this book, and decide which writers are most successful in perfect and unob- trusive articulation of sentences. Come to class ready to defend your opinions. 3. Among papers of your own written earlier this year on any sub- ject, find one which now seems to you crude in its use of connective devices. Do what you can to improve it, and submit the results in class. If necessary rewrite the paper. You could scarcely have better practice. 4. Copy from a book or article as many different Ways of con- necting paragraphs, and sentences within a paragraph, as you can find in two hours. CHAPTER Vm PURPOSE AND PROCESS IN WRITING THE fundamental purpose of all writing as of all speech is the expression of some aspect of experience or of truth. As a child you were content to tell what happened, and how it looked when it happened; this you did by the process of narra- tion mixed with description. But very soon you went be- yond this : you desired to explain how things were done, why things were as they were, how you felt about them; you began to use exposition. And when your presentation of truth was challenged, you began to defend it, using the process of argument. Now observe. Your purpose may be to tell a story nothing more; but as soon as you begin to do this, you find yourself doing more. You cannot use more than a few words before you begin to describe and to explain: " He walked down the street " is pure narrative. " He walked quickly down the shabby street " contains two descriptive words. " He walked quickly as poor clerk's always do down the shabby street where he had always lived" contains two ex- pository clauses. The truth is that these processes of expression are so inter- twined in all our utterance that it is only by a deliberate effort of analysis that we separate them at all. On the other hand, in every piece of writing one process is dominant and the others are- subsidiary; and this dominance is quite independ- ent of the purpose of the writing. This becomes clear from observing a few cases: Kipling's Rikki-Tikki-Tavi is the story of a mongoose who PURPOSE AND PROCESS IN WRITING 139 killed two cobras and saved the lives of a family. But the story is developed by a series of expositions of the habits of the mongoose, the cobra, the tailor-bird, and the rat, who are the characters. And this exposition is helped out at every step by description. Toomai of the Elephants, on the other hand, which is the story of a little boy who witnessed the nocturnal dance of elephants in the jungle, is from the very nature of the sub- ject, almost entirely description. Stevenson's The Sire de Maletroit's Door, which tells how by reason of mistaken identity a man is forced to choose between marriage with an unknown woman and immediate death, is predominantly narrative; but his A Lodging for the Night, which tells how the poet Villon, who is also a thief, receives shelter and food, in time of need, from an old soldier, although it leans heavily upon description, is fundamentally an argument as to what honor is. So also in novels we find that sometimes narration is an end in itself, sometimes a mere means to serve a further pur- pose. Stevenson's Kidnapped and Hardy's Under the Green- wood Tree are alike in that both are developed largely by means of description; but the purpose of Kidnapped is purely narrative adventures are told for their Own sake; while the purpose of Under the Greenwood Tree is primarily ex- pository an interpretation is attempted of the life of the country people of Wessex. In many of Dickens's novels, the narrative is a mere cloak for the presentation of argument : Bleak House, for example, attacks the abuses of the Court of Chancery, which, as a result, were actually to some extent reformed. The essay is fundamentally expository in its purpose; but studies of nature and character depend much upon descrip- tion, and are frequently strung on a thread of narrative; while an essay of any type is likely to drift into argument at any mo- ment as soon as the opinion expounded is open to challenge. 140 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Thus far we have been speaking of creative writing literature. But in the scientific expression of truth we find these four processes scarcely less intertwined. It is true that here the fundamental purpose is always exposition or ar- gument: exposition of accepted truth; argument for or against aspects of truth not generally recognized. It is also true that in pure mathematics, logic, and metaphysics, the presentation of material is entirely by the process of reason- ing; but the moment that the sciences come to deal with the objective world, we find them depending upon observa- tion, which involves description, and upon experiment, which involves narration. From these two processes as bases they proceed to the methods of exposition. History for children simplifies to almost pure narration; geography, to almost pure description; but history and geography for mature minds are fundamentally exposition, with a large element of narration and description still included, and no little argu- ment superimposed. If, now, it is clear that these four processes are continually found in all sorts of combinations, that each in turn may be a purpose in itself and may subserve the purpose of another, you will see that in order to use them intelligently in your writing, you must isolate each and study its technique see how it works without reference to the others; and then you must study the various ways of combining them all to suit your purpose as you write story, essay, article, and so on. The following assignment is to help you to isolate these processes as you find them in combination; and to determine when one is made to serve the purpose of another. ASSIGNMENT 1. In each of the selections on pp. 103, 105, 125-130 above, what ia the fundamental purpose? What is the predominant process? what processes, if any, are subsidiary? You will answer these questions by asking others: Is your interest more in what happened, or how PURPOSE AND PROCESS IN WRITING 141 it looked while it was happening? Or are you primarily inter- ested in the meaning of it? Next, read aloud in class several para- graphs from each selection, with pauses after each sentence to de- cide: Does this tell merely what happened? or picture it as it happened? or explain how or why it was done as it was? When you have carried this work far enough, you will distinguish between the author's purpose, on the one hand, and his predominant process on the other; and you will also see how at every step of the de- velopment, two or three processes, and sometimes all four, are intertwined. 2. Read or listen to the reading of one or more of the following stories, and discuss the amount of description, exposition, and argument in each. Then decide whether it was written merely for the sake of the story, or to exemplify some aspect of truth, or to present an argument: De Maupassant, The Necklace; Merim^e, The Venus of IIU; Kipling, The Miracle of Punin Bhagat, The Man Who Would be King, The Man Who Was, The Brushwood Boy, "They"; O. Henry, The Theory and the Hound; Poe, The T ell-Tale Heart, The Black Cat, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Gold Bug. 3. Discuss the use of description in such of the following novels as you have read: Swift, Gulliver's Travels; Defoe, Robinson Crusoe; Blackmore, Lorna Doone; Stevenson, Treasure Island, and The Merry Men; Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables, and The Marble Faun; Mrs. Gaskell, Cranford; Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities; Thackeray, Vanity Fair. 4. Spend two hours examining a textbook that you are now using, and note pages on which you find almost pure narration; others on which you find almost pure description; still others, on which you find almost pure explanation, and, if possible, argument. Discuss in class as many kinds of textbooks as possible. CHAPTER IX NARRATION 1. LIMITATION OF MATERIAL NARRATION is the skeleton of history, biography, fiction, and of certain types of the essay. However much they are built up and filled out by means of description and exposition, it is narration that makes them what they are. Narration is constructed on the principle of chronology or time sequence. In its simplest form it is found in the Old English Chronicle, in which all sorts of events are jotted down together, forming a sequence only because of the chronological arrangement of the years, thus: 773. In this year a red Christ's cross showed in the sky after sun- set, and in this year the Mercians and Kentish men fought at Otford, and wonderful snakes were seen in Sussex. This is one kind of narration, events entered year after year without logical relationship. Another kind is illustrated in the talk of Miss Bates, a character in Jane Austen's Emma, who tells a story by asso- ciating everything that she can think of at the moment about a common centre of interest, in the order in which she hap- pens to remember it, thus : " I was so astonished when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me upon it. It was before tea stay no, it could not be before tea, because we were just going to cards and yet it was before tea, because I remember thinking oh no, now I recollect, now I have it; something happened before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before tea, old John Abdy's son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I have 142 NARRATION 143 a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty- seven years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints I must go and see him to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John's son came to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he's very well to do himself, you know, being head man at the Crown, ostler, and everything of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without some help; and so ... That was what happened before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton." The art of narration involves both methods : there must be a continuous line of events to which the reader's attention is held, and these must be arranged in some definite order of time. The chronicler lacked continuity of subject; Miss Bates continuity of time. The result in each case was the introduction of irrelevant material. To narrate well, then, you must do two things. You must first single out from the enormous complex of events and facts that come into your life experience a group that can be seen to belong together as combined in the life of an individ- ual, a family, a larger social group, an institution, a city, a nation and you must then arrange these events in such an order that the attention is continually aware of a definite progression in time from the one that first occurred to the last that is included in the chosen group. These processes must be considered separately. How can you get together all the details that belong in a narrative and none that do not? The process may be re- garded as a gradual elimination of the unsuitable: 1. In the narrative of fact the natural associations of men in time and place shut out an enormous amount of irrelevant material. If you choose to write a biography of Milton, you have eliminated by your mere choice the enormous number of facts that are not related to your subject. In fiction, your choice of plot eliminates all details that do not belong to your plot. 144 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 2. Unless you have volumes of space and years of time at your disposal, you must reduce your material much further. Then the next factor is: How much space and time can you give to this subject? In a paper of 500 words, you will have to eliminate altogether the greater part of the available facts about the life of Milton. 3. The actual and unavoidable limitations of your own knowledge will still further reduce the number of facts at your disposal. You cannot write a personal account of a battle from the point of view of an aviator, a man in the trenches, and an officer at general headquarters, because you cannot be in three places at once. You cannot write a per- sonal account of the Battle of Marathon as well as of the Battle of the Marne; you have not lived in both times. Phys- ical point of view, then, makes your line of facts still narrower. Moreover, mental point of view also affects them. A chemist and a poet, an aristocrat and a socialist, a lawyer and a soldier and a doctor each will choose, out of material pre- sented to all, the facts about which he knows most and in which he is chiefly interested. And since the possibilities of an individual observer are thus limited, the writer must be careful not to shift his narrative from one point of view to another without clearly indicating the shift. 4. But this is not all. Nobody ever tells a story acciden- tally or unconsciously that is, without purpose. Whatever the purpose may be whether to share the information, in- terest, amusement, or philosophy, that we have derived from observation of a series of related events, or whether simply to impress the world with our ability as a narrator a pur- pose of some sort underlies every narrative that comes into existence, and helps to determine its content. A humorous purpose eliminates tragedy, a philosophical purpose may eliminate interesting gossip, a purpose of being interesting may eliminate informative statistical tables, and so on. Much material is shut out as being irrelevant to the purpose in hand. NARRATION 145 5. Finally, associated with purpose yet distinct from it, there is the audience to be considered. A narrative intended for children necessarily omits much that would be included in one for mature readers; a history of a war written for mil- itary men would not do for a popular magazine, and so on. Summing up, we may say that the first essential of good narrative is to shut out all material that is irrelevant; and that material may be irrelevant (1) from the nature of the subject itself, (2) from the limitations of space and time, (3) from the physical and mental point of view of the nar- rator, (4) from the purpose in hand, and (5) from the point of view of the readers for whom the narrative is intended. The second essential of good narrative is a definite time order; that is, the reader's attention must be kept generally looking forward to events that will follow in time those on which it is at the moment focused. However, it is only in a very simple narrative of a life of few activities, or of a short space of time, that the time sequence can be invariably followed; as soon as there is any degree of complexity, two other time arrangements are introduced. By the first, the string of events is held fast for a time while a short backward loop is made to gather in material that at an earlier stage was not relevant, or material having a special bearing upon the particular event to which the loop is attached. These loops are most frequently found at the beginning: a striking situation is introduced, and when the reader's interest is regarded as secure, a backward loop is made to gather up the events that led to it. And at intervals in almost any narrative of fact or of fiction it may be advisable to introduce in a loop of this kind material that does not have a place in the general advance of the story. By the second method a complex event is analyzed into parallel strands, and at the end of each strand of events, re- turn is made to the beginning of the next. Thus a history of the Renaissance might proceed in either of two ways: 146 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The Renaissance in Italy, France, Germany, and England 1. 13th century 2. 14th century 3. 15th century 4. 16th century. Or: The Renaissance in Europe, 13-16th century 1. Italy, 13th-15th century 2. France, 14th-16th century 3. Germany, 15th-16th century 4. England, 15th-16th century. Obviously the second arrangement gives a clearer impression. The point to be noted is that a complex narrative extends over space as well as over time; and the sequence must be halted until all the spatial elements are brought into line. ASSIGNMENT 1. Choose five of the following subjects which you think could be treated with some success in a paper of 500-1000 words: Milton's Political Career; the History of Kentucky; the History of the Theater; the Life of John Bunyan; the History of the Writing of The Pilgrim's Progress; Dr. Johnson's Relations with Lord Chester- field; How Tennyson Came to be a Lord; My Efforts to Make a Garden; The Early Colonies in Massachusetts; the Career of Alexan- der Hamilton; the Annexation of Alaska. 2. State in regard to each of the subjects chosen, how it might and should be limited further. Make as many variations of each subject as possible; and reduce each to its lowest terms. 3. Study the tables of contents of six histories or biographies, and make notes on the use of parallelism and "looping back." 4. Discuss the limitations of subject-matter suggested by each of the following titles; where it is possible, verify your conclusions in regard to the book: Bryce's History qf the American Commonwealth; Green's History of the English People; Dickens's Child's History of England; Stubbs's Constitutional History of England; Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England; Traill's Social England. 5. Collect instances of the "looping back" process as used in fiction. Note when it occurs at the beginning of a story and when NARRATION 147 later. Use stories in current numbers of good magazines. You may recall illustrations in novels that you have read; it is likely to occur in the explanation of a mystery. 6. Relate in class some recent experience of your own, to see how far you tell it progressively and how often you have to go back and pick up dropped threads. 7. Relate in two or three minutes the plot of some novel that is familiar to all the class, to see how far you tell the incidents in the order in which they should come, and how often you find yourself saying "Oh, I should have told you first. . . ." 8. Decide upon some novel familiar to all the class, and in 200 words or less write an outline of its plot in the order in which the incidents are related in the book. Do this from memory, and verify by referring to the book. Note any instances of "looping back" that may occur. 2. SCALE OF TREATMENT When you have determined approximately the material that belongs to your narrative, you must next consider how it is to be fitted into the space at your disposal. Suppose, for example, you are asked to write something about Milton in 1000 words, and that your paper is to be read before a club. You may say to yourself: "These people know nothing about Milton; I'd better give them a general survey of his career." Or you may say: "These people know all about Milton as a poet; I will write about his career as a patriot." In the first case you will have far more facts to deal with than in the second; you will have to condense much more your treatment of each fact; your paper will be on a smaller scale. Here your problem is not so much one of elimination as one of settling the relative proportions of the material that must be included. But whether your scale be large or small, all the parts of your narrative must be planned so that each gets the proportion of space due to the relative importance or unim- portance of each idea. To make such a scale, a good plan is to begin by asking 148 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH yourself the following questions : Which is the most important aspect? What other features must be treated in a general survey? How do they compare in importance with one an- other and with the leading aspect? How much space must I leave for the main aspect in order that it shall dominate? How much can I spare for each of the others? By answering these questions your scale for a general survey of Milton's career would approximate this: 1. Parentage, education, and travel (100 words) 2. Early career as poet (200 words) 3. Career as patriot (200 words) 4. Late career as poet (500 words) Without such a preliminary consideration of space and scale, your paper might easily take some such distorted form as this : 1. Parentage (50 words) 2. Education (200 words) 3. Travel (100 words) 4. Early career as poet (300 words) 5. Career as patriot (300 words) 6. Late career as poet (50 words) You begin on too large a scale, give half your paper to pre- liminaries, and exceed your space before you reach your most important point, and so are obliged to deal with it in a few hasty words at the end. It is only by a mathematical allotment of space beforehand that you can learn to proportion the parts of your narrative so that the whole composition is on the scale demanded by your space limits. But, you may ask, how shall I know what is most im- portant what needs most space? In every group of asso- ciated events certain ones stand out as having an absolute and permanent importance; in Milton's life, for instance, the two outstanding facts are his blindness and the creation of Paradise Lost. But there are other events which have shifting values, dependent upon the narrator's purpose, his NARRATION 149 point of view, and the interests of his audience; these are likely to throw a narrative out of scale. In the Middle Ages when people had more time than they knew what to do with, and when story-telling was one means of getting rid of it, there were many tales that were made almost interminable by stringing together an indefinite series of events without regard to their relative importance or un- importance. It was done in this way: And also a young man, who did not know about the dragon, went out of a ship, and went through the isle till he came to the castle, and came into the cave; and went on till he found a chamber, and there he saw a damsel that was combing her hair and looking in a mirror. . . . Sir John de Mandeville. Now the point of this story is obviously the meeting with the dragon. Why need we be told in detail how the man went through the isle? The account can be reduced more than one- fourth and gain in interest if these unimportant details are omitted, thus: And also a young man, who did not know about the dragon, went out of a ship to the castle, where in a chamber of the cave he saw a damsel combing her hair and looking in a mirror. . . . But suppose the point of the story was not what happened when the man met the dragon but how he discovered the castle and overcame obstacles in getting to it; then the omitted details must be put back and emphasized: how he got lost on his way through the isle, how he was dazed by what he saw, how he resisted enchantment in the cave, etc. In the one case, the details are to be taken for granted; in the other, they leap into prominence, but, as Kipling used to say, "That is another story." The careful analysis of narrative material, to observe both the gradations of scale determined by space limits and the adjustment of part to part on one scale of treatment, is an admirable way to get an idea of the flexibility of the materials 150 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH of narration. Such an analysis may be written in sentence form or as a topical outline; but it should be made on cards, with a rough estimate of the number of words given to each event in the narrative. Perhaps equally valuable is practice in making abstracts of both history and fiction, in order to see what material is eliminated as the scale is reduced. It is particularly helpful to take the same piece of work and reduce it to its lowest terms by a series of abstracts, each of which suggests treat- ment on a different scale. For instance, take a passage of 400 words and reduce it, trying to keep the most important ideas and eliminating the least important, to 200; then to 100; then to 50; and finally to a single sentence. Take a story and gradually cut out the less important events until it is re- duced to a single sentence. In making an abstract, first read each paragraph carefully to see whether its substance is summed up in a topic sentence; if so, you will be saved the trouble of making one. ASSIGNMENT 1. Make an abstract in 400 words, then in 200, 100, and 50 words, of some historical or biographical article, or chapter of a biography. The following biographies from the Dictionary of National Biography, or from some good encyclopaedia would be suitable: Thomas Chatterton, Samuel Pepys, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh, John Bunyan, Horace Walpole, Prince Rupert, Sir Joshua Reynolds, David Garrick, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, William Morris, Christina Rossetti. 2. From the article or chapter that you have chosen for 1 select a portion of the life or of the period of history which you think would be interesting for a paper of 500 words. Make notes from your source of information of the main episodes that should be developed, and discuss the scale of treatment and features that should be emphasized. 3. Give the main incidents in an imaginary attempt at theft from three points of view: (1) the thief's; (2) the victim's; and (3) a by- stander's. Note changes of emphasis required by the hypothesis that the thief NARRATION 151 is (1) starving, (2) a kleptomaniac; that the victim is (1) a nervous old lady, (2) a football star; that the bystander is (1) a policeman; (2) a child. 4. Compare two chapters in two histories dealing with the same subject but for entirely different classes of readers, to see how the emphasis varies. Green's Short History of the English People and a one-volume History of England make a good contrast. Note on cards the different allotment of space to different subjects. If a chapter is too long, take a portion of a chapter that deals with a single phase of some subject. 3. NARRATIVE DEVICES On any scale of treatment many details which are unim- portant for the purpose in hand must be omitted. There are various ways in which this elimination can be successfully managed, among them these : 1. Getting rid of the machinery of an event. 2. Summing up hi a transition paragraph uneventful periods. 3. Passing from one dramatic moment to another, leaving the reader to infer what has happened in the interval. One of the commonest causes of ineffectiveness in narration is failure to distinguish between details that have narrative value in themselves, and details that are mere machinery, and as such should be taken for granted. In the following sentence the machinery is inclosed between parentheses : This morning I (dressed and walked downtown after I had had breakfast and) bought an imported hat for ten dollars. Unless there is some reason for emphasizing the parenthet- ical matter for example, if the speaker were an invalid the narrative gains point by omitting it as something to be understood. Yet how many people have learned to omit details of this kind in conversation? Most fiction is overloaded with machinery, which is used as mere decoration or filling. In an artistic story there is 152 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH not a look or a gesture that has not a definite value for plot, character, or atmosphere. In narrative of fact, on the other hand, the value of ma- chinery for dramatic presentation is too little understood. It is a safe rule when you are writing fiction, to see how much invented machinery you can omit; and when you are writing fact, to see how much machinery necessarily involved in the main events you can put in. One useful device is the transition paragraph beginning: So months passed . . . ; Some time elapsed without much change in the situation; Several days later . . . This as- sumes either that the intervening events are of the type just narrated in full, or that there are no events of importance. By summarizing in this way the colorless parts of your narrative you save space so that you can develop more fully other parts on which you wish to focus the reader's attention. Note also that these transition passages have a double value: they give background against which the dramatic scenes stand out the more distinctly, and they afford a momentary relief to the reader's attention. More effective and more modern is the method of passing from one dramatic point to the next without indication of the intervening episodes, which must, naturally, be of a sort that can be safely inferred by the reader. Mr. Arnold Ben- nett, for instance, in a short story called The Lions Share, represents his hero, Horace, as the lifelong victim of his younger brother, Gerald, whom as a child he had the mis- fortune to injure. Gerald not merely lives upon his brother, but cuts him out in his one love affair. We have a long ac- count of a tea party in which it seems that Horace is about to win the girl, a long account of the sudden arrival of Gerald, and of his effect upon the girl. Then, instead of giving de- tails of the way in which Gerald cuts out Horace, Bennett says: The wedding cost Horace a large sum of money". . . . NARRATION 153 Whenever this sharp transition from one important point in the narrative to another can be made with perfect clear- ness, it saves space, and secures emphasis. The best way to learn to use these devices is to observe continually how they are used in the work of skilled writers to secure striking effects with the greatest economy of words. ASSIGNMENT 1. Try to observe in your own use of narration as you talk, and in the narratives of people to whom you listen, the coordination of important details with the machinery associated with them. Note and bring to class any striking instances of this that you observe in yourself or in others, and show how the narrative might be improved by omission. 2. Copy and bring to class for discussion ten transition para- graphs or sentences from history, biography, or fiction. Try to get as many types as possible. While you are doing this, note on separate cards instances in which the reader is left to make the transition. 3. In the fiction of a good magazine note ten or more instances in which the events of a period of time are left to be imagined by the reader. Distinguish between the cases in which the events are of the same sort as those previously described in the story, and those in which they are simply unimportant. 4. PLOT In narrative of fact we are bound to keep things in their actual relations in time and space: we may not change the date of the Battle of the Marne, or call General Cadorna a Frenchman. In fiction we may choose time and place at will, but we must have plot. The root-idea of the word fiction is made-up, imagined', and the root-idea of the word plot is pattern. Fiction, then, is narrative put together according to some pattern. The facts of human experience we relate in terms of space and time, and as far as we can, of cause and effect; and so we 154 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH make history and biography. In fiction we use the same human experience; but instead of representing it as it is, we tear it to pieces and rebuild it to conform to and exhibit a special pattern, commonly called a plot. The essence of plot is instability. In life we find infinitely variable series of periods of quiescence and of activity or change; but plot is concerned only with the element of change. In life a group of persons may go on in a routine that scarcely ( varies for years at a time; then suddenly there is upheaval, and the stability of their lives is overthrown. For a time, long or short, routine disappears, every phase of experience is freshly considered; almost every day brings change; then readjustment takes place, and a new routine follows. But during these periods of change there lies perhaps in every life the possibility of a story, that is, biography plus plot. The first thing, then, that plot does is to throw experience out of focus : it expands episodes and sums up years in a sen- tence or a phrase. It has its origin in the element of change in life, and it moves from the breaking up of one unstable situation to another which is relatively stable. In the plot of tragedy this is the unredeemable defeat of the ambition or aspiration perhaps the death of the person in whose fortune we are for the time interested; in the plot of comedy, his success in the line of action which was involved in the opening situation. In the entire movement of plot there is, except for contrast and relief, no moment of rest; each un- stable situation breaks up into other situations, which immediately break up into others. The whole story sweeps forward in ceaseless progression at different paces, it is true, and with emphasis on different features, but without rest until the full stop in the last situation. If, as sometimes happens, this presently breaks up into a fresh series, we have a sequel to the original story. Remember to distinguish sharply between plot and the NARRATION 155 story of which it forms part of the machinery. Novels are often written as imitation biographies or autobiographies, in which perhaps a third of the book or more is given to memories of childhood almost lacking in plot interest. All novels have plot in varying degrees as well as in different patterns; but the fundamental quality of plot itself is un- ceasing change. But instability change always involves a conflict of forces a tug in two directions. This may be external the clash of human wills, or the fight of a human being with his environment, social or physical; or it may be internal the conflict of desires and motives within a personality. In the highest types of literature it is usually both. In stories of adventure, and in such novels as most of Scott's and Dickens's, the conflict is largely external; in psychological studies, and in such novels as Henry James's, it is largely in- ternal. In the novels of Thackeray, Meredith, and the chief contemporary novelists, both kinds of struggle are found in varying degrees. In this conflict the reader is partisan; he always identifies himself more or less completely with the figure Or figures about whom the story centers, and accordingly is in a state of suspense until he knows the outcome of the series of changes. The more strongly this suspense is felt, the greater is the pull or tension of the plot. The story with the most successful plot is that which the reader "cannot put down" until he knows "how it comes out." Now this suspense is the result of certain definite devices. One of these is increasing the tension as the story develops. This increase is necessary because any feeling wears off unless it is intensified or jogged. After a time the reader will grow comfortably callous to the hero's sorrows or escapes, thinking; "He will come out all right as he always does." What then? The writer must increase the trouble or the danger until his invention is exhausted when, of course, it is time to end 156 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the book. But the plot, if it is to hold the attention per- fectly, must involve the reader in a succession of thrills each of which is in some way more exciting than the one before it. These thrills are due to something more than the steady increase of tension; they come only when the attention is jogged. This jogging is accomplished by breaking the sus- pense here and there barely long enough for the reader to give a gasp of relief, and then bringing back the complica- tions worse than they were before. By force of contrast the reader then feels them more keenly than before; and he reads with a succession of thrills. Each point where the plot thickens is called a climax. And the chief climax is always, in a well-constructed plot, that point at which the complication of the action is com- pleted and the force or forces are introduced which finally result in the "untying of the knot." There may be but one principal climax in a plot; but usually we find a succession of lesser climaxes leading up to the chief one. The suspense in plot may be of two sorts. In tragic plot the reader from the first sees the inevitable outcome, and watches it just as in life he might watch fascinated a man's struggles to escape from the whirlpool of Niagara. His ques- tion is never: What will be the end of this? but always: How long can defeat be postponed, and how will it come about in the end? In comedy plot, the end is not seen to be inevitable; on the contrary, it looks impossible. The reader's question becomes: How can this turn out as I wish? And his interest may be screwed up tightened in two ways: (1) by befog- ging him, and (2) by misleading him. Befogging him means so complicating the episodes that no way out appears; and misleading him means making every episode seem to lead directly away from the desired end. In Dickens 's novels we are usually befogged as to the outcome, often by the interposition between hero and heroine of NARRATION 157 subplot and counterplot, involving many minor characters. In Jane Austen's Persuasion we are most delicately led to believe that Captain Wentworth is in love with Louisa, even as Anne Elliott, the heroine, is led to believe it. These are the basic ideas on which an infinity of plot patterns have been built up in the novel and the drama. The short story, which as a type has practically been created within the last half century, has a technique of its own, which needs separate study. Variety of plot depends aside from the distinction between tragedy and comedy upon the nature of the episodes chosen for development; but into this phase of the subject we have here no space to enter. Each writer chooses and combines such material as his experience of life brings him, but always along the lines here suggested. He may have a double thread, as in Vanity Fair, where we follow out the tragedy of Becky Sharp and the comedy of Amelia Sedley. He may have a multiple plot, as Dickens usually had, in which comedy and tragedy elements are tangled. He may write almost straight biography, as Thackeray does in Henry Esmond, and even continue this through several generations, as Arnold Bennett does in The Old Wives' Tale. Or he may write a narrative of several social groups which reads almost like history with only a subtle and elusive plot pattern, as Tolstoi did in War and Peace. But wherever plot appears at all, it does actually conform to the same general principles. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze the plot technique of such of the following novels as you have read: Tess of the D'Urbervilles; Under the Greenwood Tree; Bleak House; Little Dorrit; David Copperfield; Vanity Fair; The Newcomes; Pride and Prejudice; Jane Eyre; The Mill on the Floss; Silas Marner; Middlemarch; Diana of the Crossways; The Egoist; Lord Jim; Lorna Doone; The Heart of Mid-Lothian; Ken- ilworth; Kidnapped; Treasure Island. In doing this, use the following suggestions: 158 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (1). Is the type biographical, autobiographical, historical, social, or simply episodic? (2). Is the plot single, double, or multiple? If you find more than one plot classify each as tragedy or comedy. (3). State the central figure or figures; the nature of the con- flict; the opening and closing situations, showing that the first is unstable and the last stable; and the climax or climaxes. (4). Show how the reader is befogged or misled or both. (5). Show how years are telescoped and episodes are expanded. (6) . Distinguish between plot and non-plot elements. 2. Write a careful analysis in 300 words of one of these books, discussing all the points enumerated above. CHAPTER X DESCRIPTION 1. SENSE APPEAL THE simplest use of description is for identification. It involves merely an exact catalogue, more or less complete, of the qualities which chiefly distinguish an individual from the other members of the species to which it belongs. This kind of description is continually used in the sciences; and it is found in practical life in the LOST columns of newspapers, Police Bulletins, catalogues, and classified advertisements. With this form of description we have here nothing to do. Description, in the wider sense, has a totally different aim. It aims to stimulate the reader's imagination, to cause the reader to awaken in himself certain images that appeal to the senses. This is not to cause the reader to see exactly what the writer has seen. No two people ever see the same thing, even at the same time, in exactly the same way : every one differs from every one else in his senses and in his standards. Titian-red hair means one thing to me, another to you; and it meant something still different to Titian himself. Description does not aim to transfer impressions, because this transfer is manifestly impossible. It does not identify for you something that I have seen; it simply tries to make you construct from your own experience a mental image that fits my description. This is done by means of words that convey impressions and suggestions of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch. The writer begins with a complex experience and tries to compress it into such words; the reader begins with the words and tries unconsciously, of course to 159 160 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH expand them, to make them live and grow, in terms of his own experience. It follows that the more experiences writer and reader have in common, the more perfect will be the correspondence between the image intended and the image evoked. Between two people of similar temperaments who have had exactly the same experience, a single word will often transfer an imaged memory of a scene with all its sights and sounds and smells. " Fuenterrabia " what image does the word convey to you? To me it brings a vision first of all of yellowness: of a wide sheen of beach, of tiers of sun-burned house-fronts; of many balconies trailing nasturtiums; of a golden-domed cathedral all burning in intolerable sunlight. And with this comes a clear memory of a street like a sheer narrow ravine climbing the hillside; of cobbles that hurt the feet; of the echo of my own footsteps; and finally of a smell of damp cellar, hot grease, olives, and sour wine, that haunted the shaded way. These are some of the images evoked for me by the utterance of a single word. But how shall I describe the place for you who have not seen it? I must use words that appeal to your experience, whoever you are and wherever you have lived. You know yellow; you have seen sand on the shore or in the desert somewhere; you know how sun-burned things look, you know nasturtiums, golden domes, ravines, cobbles, and the smell of damp cellars, olives, hot grease, and sour wine. Probably you have not experienced all these things in com- bination, but with the aid of imagination you blend them and make a picture which is not my picture nor the picture of anyone else who has seen the place. Yet for you it is real be- cause you have created it. Now the test of success in descrip- tion is the extent to which it stimulates the reader's imag- ination to this creative process. How is this stimulation accomplished? The first step is to translate the unknown into terms that DESCRIPTION 161 are familiar. It does not do, for example, to say, "He was uniformed like a mandarin duck," unless you have reason to suppose that your reader has seen mandarin ducks. But the art of description involves much more than this. It in- volves first of all a continual shifting of attention from the abstract to the concrete, from the general to the specific: "There is movement (abstract) in that bush. What is it? It is an animal (concrete). It is a brindled yellow cat, hop- ping on three legs, and carrying a baby rabbit in his mouth" (specific) . By close observation movement is translated into animal, and animal is resolved into its most striking qual- ities, with the result that the reader is able to construct a sharply-defined picture out of his previous experiences of cats and rabbits. The fundamental condition, then, of good description is that he who attempts it must first wake up all his senses; he must see, hear, smell, taste, and touch as far as he can everything that comes into his experience. The second and closely associated condition is that he must immediately begin to compare these sense impressions, so that he can say: "This is like that"; and also: "This is found with that, but no two things could be more different." In this way he will acquire not merely a host of vivid sense impressions, but such flexibility in shifting his attention from one to another that he can immediately group about one that is unfamiliar to his reader a host of others that are familiar, and choose the one word or the group of words that will stimulate the imagination to form a definite picture. " She wore a green dress " do you get a picture? Was the color olive-green, emerald-green, sea-green, apple-green, gray-green, moss-green, bottle-green, blue-green, bronze- green or the hideous green of desk blotting paper? The writer must say which if he wishes the reader to construct a picture. To describe well, then, it is necessary first to cultivate 162 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the sharp senses of a naturalist, then to classify your impres- sions so that one can be made to explain another. In this process of classification is involved the exact fitting of the specific and concrete word to the impression. Observe how these three conditions are met by a naturalist in the following descriptions of color, sound, taste and smell: There were jelly-fish of opalescent silver, scalloped with sepia, alive with medusa locks a tangle of writhing, stinging strands. . . . Iridescent, feathery-footed sea-worms, pale green sea-snakes, blue translucent shrimps all came to our net. . . . William Beebe. Do you know sepia, medusa locks? The writer assumes that you do. Do you know the difference between opalescent, iridescent, and translucent? The writer is writing for people who do. In the following are sound and motion combined, because in the reality they were inseparable. The description is of bats in a cave: From the inky darkness of some hidden fissure they dropped almost to my face; then, with a whip of their leathery wings, they turned and vanished in the dark cavern ahead. The noise their wings made was incredibly loud; sometimes a purring, as fifty small ones whirred past together; then a sharp singing, and finally a sharp whistling twang as a single giant bat twisted and flickered on his frightened way. William Beebe. Do not all these familiar sounds and movements enable you to imagine the unfamiliar experience? Here is the description of a Malaysian fruit: With rotten eggs as a basis, if one adds sour milk and lusty Lim- burger cheese ad lib., an extremely unpleasant mixture may be produced. It quite fails, however, as an adequate simile to durian. William Beebe. Here you are asked not merely to build up an impression but to increase the scale as you build to exaggerate the blended impression. Does not this change of scale stimulate the imagination? DESCRIPTION 163 Before you attempt to write description, you should prac- tise testing and classifying your sense impressions; and should give yourself some training in these respects. You will be surprised to find how quickly your senses respond to the suggestion. You might begin by trying to remember the color, shape, sound, taste, smell, etc., of certain familiar things; continue by examining them to correct your impres- sions; and conclude by trying to associate them with as many others as you can find in each case to suggest them to other people. The reading of work that shows the closest sort of observation is a help, in that it shows the possibilities of development of the powers of the senses. For this purpose especially valuable writings are: Henri Fabre's Life of the Spider; John Burroughs's nature studies; W. H. Hudson's Nature in Downland; William Beebe's articles in The Atlantic Monthly, now published under the title Jungle Peace ASSIGNMENT 1. Write in class a phrase giving your impression of each of the following tastes. Either suggest what it is like and explain the difference, or make a blend of several tastes. Use the allied senses of touch and smell whenever you need to do so: sweet potato, paw- paw, celery, radish, parsnip, plum pudding, lemon jelly, grape fruit, maple syrup, whipped cream, milk chocolate. 2. Distinguish in a sentence between the tastes of the following kinds of apples: Spitzenbergs, russets, Jonathans, or any other three kinds. 3. Kipling describes the smell of a country cottage thus: "... the smell of the box-tree by the dairy window mixed with the smell of earth after rain, bread after baking, and a tickle of wood- smoke." Use his method in describing in a sentence each the smell of (1) an attic; (2) a cellar; (3) a kitchen, (4) a room long closed; (5) a ship; (6) some other place of blended odors. 4. Describe in a phrase each of the following sounds: sawing, drawing a foot out of thick mud, skating, walking in wet snow, frying, boiling. 5. Distinguish in 30 words or less between the following sounds in each group; the horns of three automobiles; a violin, a mandolin, 164 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH and a guitar; an oboe and a French horn; the noises made by a cat and a dog to express different emotions; an express train and a fast freight. 6. Describe in a phrase the feeling of each of the following to the touch: sandpaper; tweed; a wet sponge; a dry sponge; chewing gum. 7. Distinguish in a sentence each the difference in the appeal to touch of the following: velvet and plush; all wool and mixed wool and cotton goods; two kinds of fur; jelly and curds. 8. Describe in less than 50 words each: (1) the sights and sounds from your window observed in ten minutes; (2) sounds heard in the house after you have gone to bed. 9. Describe from memory in a sentence or two the song of any bird or the sound made by any animal. 10. Describe briefly from memory any peculiarly vivid impression of smell, taste, or touch made upon you in childhood. 11. Does the following suggest to you any similar memory? If so, tell it as exactly and naturally as you can (200-300 words). The child was a little girl: "Down among the long wet grass there was a trickle of a stream which only ran after heavy rain, as it was an overflow from the drive gutter. It poured out in a little dribble of water from a drain-pipe into a pool, and then wandered off through winding banks till it fell gently into a bigger pool too big ever to be filled, and the water only made it muddy in patches and then lost itself in the grass, In t summer the pool was caked dry, and had cracks in it, as if there had been an earthquake. There my brother Bert and I used to play, damming the stream with mud, and then making a gap and letting the stopped-up water rush through with fury. When I put my face on the grass the stream looked as if it were the size of a big river, with cliff-like banks and a rough green forest hanging over the edges." Joan Arden. 12. Make a short study (about 100 words) of the gathering of flowers, fruits, or nuts, as remembered from childhood, in the manner of this little sketch. Try to select the few essential features that give a strong general impression and feeling of the scene: "Sometimes on summer mornings in the holidays, when the sun had yet only touched the tree-tops, I went in the fields to look for mushrooms. Then suddenly pushing through the wet grass I would see the white roundness of one, and others near it. They looked astonishingly holy, and were warm with life and wet with drops of dew on them, and when I touched my face with them they DESCRIPTION 165 were tender, and the smell of their growing was strong. But when the sun shone hot on the grass and dried it I found no more and went home." Joan Arden. 13. Make another short study of any similar use of imagination in childhood suggested to you by this sketch: "There was also a little beech tree, which had a bough near the ground spreading out like a fan. I tied string on to four of the outermost twigs, then I stood on the main branch and gathered up the reins of my horses and drove them with fury, as I have seen ancient Britons in a circus drive their teams of horses from a chariot. I bent them to the ground with my feet, and let them spring so that the old brown leaves of last summer, which still clung to the twigs, made a rustling noise." Joan Arden. 14. What are your first memories of a train? Read the following picture and make a short sketch (200 words) based on your own experience and impressions: "From the bedroom windows of our house we could see the gray station down in the valley, and the trains creeping in and out. We could sit on the window-sill and draw them, and even at that dis- tance feel how exciting and friendly they were, so that it would have hurt us not to hear the happy noises of puffing, or the com- plaining repetition of the shock down a line of trucks when an engine bumped into the first one. It was still more exciting to be on the single platform the station was the terminus of a branch line on summer evenings when the London train was expected, and the milkcarts came rattling up to fetch away the empty cans. Then we heard the hollow click of the signal going down, and the few people on the platform became suddenly alert. We strained our eyes to see the first white puff of smoke, and suddenly the engine came in with a rush, sizzling and dripping with heat like a great animal." Joan Arden. 15. Have you had any experience similar to this? If so, tell about it as simply and as unemotionally as is done in this paragraph. The beauty of the work lies in the detached manner of reproducing almost without comment an experience which to the child was full of emotional suggestion: "Now and then when I was still quite young, I was allowed to go to church on dark Sunday evenings. I remember very clearly that once my mother and I waited at the end of the service while the organ was played. The sounds seemed to rise into the heights of the tower square. The people were streaming out, and the night wind through the open doors made the yellow gas-jets flare. Then 166 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH a dark-bearded sexton went round, turning out all but a few of the lights, till the church was dim. The chancel, which had been blazing with light, was now lit only by the distant half-turned- down gas. Still the music went on, and I heard the chink of money being counted in the vestry. Then my father, who was the clergy- man, strode slowly across the square under the tower towards us, his head thrown back as if he were looking at the sounds of the music, which I thought chased one another about near the roof. He sat at the end of our pew, his face quiet with thinking, till it was all over. Then our feet made a clattering noise on the pave- ment of the great empty church, and we went home up the field- path in the dark windy night." Joan Arden. 2. CHOICE OF DETAILS Suppose you describe a girl thus: "She is very small and dainty, always dressed in pale, delicate shades of color, preferably pale pinks and blues. She has a pink and white complexion, blue eyes, yellow hair, and doll-like features." Is not all this suggested by "She looked like a Dresden china shepherdess"? And does not this give a more vivid, because more concentrated, image of the girl? If you suggest to your reader a single familiar image, his memory will reconstruct it for him. If you bid him with the aid of imagination construct a new image, he will have to blend it out of several memories. If you give him many details to work upon, the danger is that you will clog the wheels of his mental machinery, and disable him from pro- ducing any clear impression at all. As in drawing the best results sometimes come from the fewest lines, so in descrip- tion, with comparatively simple subjects, a few striking de- tails make a deeper and clearer impression than a larger number, even though these may all be good in themselves. The next problem in description, then, becomes choice of details. No subject is so simple that it does not offer far more material than could be used in any description. What prin- ciple governs choice? Before deciding this, let us observe DESCRIPTION 167 the comfortable fact that there are certain natural elimina- tions of details. The description of Fuenterrabia was an impression of some one who was in the streets of the town on a glaring summer day. Here is a sketch of the same place viewed from across the river three miles away on a chilly evening: A low, grey hump of a town, crested with a square black fort and a dim cupola, perhaps of some church, huddled between sharp- peaked purple mountains half hidden in swirling mists and the grey estuary that merged into a sea of steel. The two descriptions have only one detail in common the cupola, which is clearly a dominant feature of the scene. What has completely eliminated one set of details and sub- stituted another? There are at least three transforming factors: (1) the point of view; (2) the time of day; (3) the weather. The first made it impossible to say anything about balconies, flowers, cobbles, or smells and changed the scale of the picture; the second and third entirely changed the colors. So, in general, if you are describing a view from a hill, you cannot go into detail about a town in the plain; if a scene in the town, you must remember how details look from the exact place where you are supposed to be, at the time and under the light conditions that prevail. But there are other determinants of what shall and what shall not be included in a description. No two people see exactly the same details in a scene or in a person, not merely because their eyes are different, but also because they are by training and experience accustomed to look for certain features and to neglect others. As a painter is more aware of color and a sculptor of form, so a farmer sees in a land- scape what is and might be grown there; a real estate agent views the same place as a possible site for a town; and a tired tramp stealing a ride shuts his eyes and does not look at the country at all. So it is with houses, dresses, faces, all aspects of life that come before our eyes: things that are 168 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH beautiful to one are ugly to another, and no two people see the same combinations of details. Nor is this the whole of the matter. As appearances change according to the light in which they are viewed, so they change according to the mood of the observer. An empty house that seems pictur- esque in a happy mood, may seem dreary when the observer himself is melancholy. Both the general character of the observer and his special mood at the time of observation, then, affect the choice of details, bringing about further elimination among all that might be seen from a particular point of view and under particular conditions of time and season. All these necessary eliminations greatly simplify the prob- lem of choice. If you are writing a description in your own person, and you do not shift your point of view or attempt to combine into one impressions derived from different occa- sions, you have only to be true to your own eyes and your own temperament and mood in order to make a true pic- ture. It may contain too many details to help the reader to build his own imaginative picture; but it will at least be true. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze the following descriptions to determine as far as possible in each case: (1) the point of view; (2) the time of day, season of the year, and weather; (3) the character and occupation of the observer; (4) his mood at the time of observation: " The loudest sound in the wood was the humming in the trees; there was no wind, no sunshine; a summer day, still and shadowy, under large clouds high up. To this low humming the sense of hearing soon became accustomed, and it served but to render the silence deeper. In time, as I sat, waiting and listening, there came the faintest far-off song of a bird away in the trees; the merest thin upstroke of sound, slight in structure, the echo of the strong spring singing. This was the summer repetition, dying away. A willow- wren still remembered his love, and whispered about it to the silent fir tops, as in after days we turn over the pages of letters, withered as leaves, and sigh. So gentle, so low, so tender a song the willow- DESCRIPTION 169 wren sang that it could scarce be known as the voice of a bird, but was like that of some yet more delicate creature with the heart of a woman" Richard Jefferies. " Next morning the August sun shone, and the wood was all a-hum with insects. The wasps were working at the pine boughs high overhead; the bees by dozens were crowding to the bramble flowers; swarming on them. . . .; humble-bees went wandering among the ferns in the copse and in the ditches and calling at every purple heath-blossom, at the purple knap-weeds, purple thistles, and broad handfuls of yellow-weed flowers. Wasp-like flies barred with yellow suspended themselves in the air between the pine-trunks like hawks hovering, and suddenly shot them- selves a yard forward or to one side, as if the rapid vibration of their wings while hovering had accumulated force which drove them as if discharged from a cross-bow. The sun had set all things in motion." Richard Jeff eries. " Three fruit-pickers women were the first people I met near the village [in Kent]. They were clad in 'rags and jags,' and the face of the eldest was in 'jags' also. It was torn and scarred by time and weather; wrinkled, and in a manner twisted like the fan- tastic turns of a gnarled tree-trunk, hollow and decayed. Through these jags and tearings of weather, wind, and work, the nakedness of the countenance the barren framework was visible; the cheek- bones like knuckles, the chin of brown stoneware, the upper-lip smooth, and without the short groove which should appear between lip and nostrils." Richard Jefferies. " A single vast gray cloud covered all the country, from which the small rain and mist had just begun to blow down in wavy sheets, alternately thick and thin. The trees of the fields and plantations writhed like miserable men as the air wound its way swiftly among them: the lowest portions of their trunks, that had hardly ever been known to move, were visibly rocked by the fiercer gusts, distressing the mind by its painful unwontedness, as when a strong man is seen to shed tears. Low-hanging boughs went up and down; high and erect boughs went to and fro; the blasts being so irregular, and divided into so many cross-currents, that neighboring branches of the same tree swept the sky in independent motions, crossed each other, or became entangled. Across the open spaces flew flocks of green and yellowish leaves, which, after traveling a long distance from their parent trees, reached the ground, and lay there with their under-sides upward." Thomas Hardy. 170 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. POINT OF VIEW The chief danger of the inexperienced writer when he at- tempts a description involving more than a few details is that he tries to photograph what he sees. He says to him- self in effect: "This place is so different from others of its kind that if I only put in enough of its striking features, the reader must see it as I do." This theory ignores the fun- damental truth which we have been emphasizing, that no one can make anyone else see what he sees. But because the belief that he can is so deep-rooted, it is worth while to show in detail how it leads astray even a writer of genius. As you read the following description of a house, make four sets of notes: 1. The details that could have been observed by a passing stranger from the opposite side of the street. 2. Additional details that could have been observed from the lawn. 3. Further details that could have been observed by pass- ing through the gate in the lattice. 4. Details that could have been known only to someone who either lived in the house or visited it frequently. 1. It was a large frame house of two stories; all the windows in the front were bay. 2. The front door was directly in the middle between the windows of the parlor and those of the library, while over the vestibule was a sort of balcony that no one ever thought of using. 3. The house was set in a large well-kept yard. 4. The lawn was pretty; an enormous eucalyptus tree grew at one corner. 5. Nearer to the house were magnolia and banana trees growing side by side with pines and firs. 6. Humming-birds built in these, and one could hear their curious little warbling mingling with the hoarse chirp of the English sparrows which nested under the eaves. 7. The back yard was separated from the lawn by a high fence of green lattice-work. 8. The hens and chickens were kept here and two roosters, one of which crowed every time a cable-car passed the house. 9. On the door cut through the lattice-fence was a sign, "Look Out for the Dog." 10. Close to the unused barn stood DESCRIPTION 171 an immense windmill with enormous arms; when the wind blew in the afternoon the sails whirled about at a surprising speed, pump- ing water from the artesian well beneath. 11. There was a small conservatory where the orchids were kept. 12. Altogether, it was a charming place. 13. However, adjoining it was a huge vacant lot with cows in it. 14. It was full of dry weeds and heaps of ashes, while around it was an enormous fence painted with signs of cigars, patent bitters, and soap. Frank Norris. Looking at your four lists, can you say from which point of view the author means the description to be written? Does he stand still while he is drawing his picture, or does he continually shift his position without warning? What can you tell about the weather, season, and time of day? What general impression does he try to give of the place as a whole? What details immediately contradict this impres- sion? The root of the trouble is that what we have here is not a picture at all, but an identification. It is altogether prob- able that not another house in the city would have shown exactly this combination of details; but the reader's per- petual effort to shift his point of view and to combine these unexpected things simply blurs the picture. Contrast the following by noting, as you read it, answers to these questions: What has Guy to do with the house? Is he familiar with it? What indications of his mood are given? From what point of view does he examine the house? Is it natural for him to count the windows and imagine his friends behind them? Does he change his point of view? Is the change unmistakably shown? Do you get an effect of strong or of subdued light? Was the sun shining brightly? Is any detail given that could not have been seen and would not have been noticed by that particular person at that particular time? Guy sat upon the parapet of the well under the shade of a syca- more-tree and regarded with admiration and satisfaction the ex- terior of bis house. He looked at the semicircular porch of stone 172 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH over the front door and venerated the supporting cherubs who with puffed-out cheeks had blown defiance at wind and rain since the days of Elizabeth. He counted the nine windows, five above and four below, populating with the shapes of many friends the rooms they lightened. He looked at the steep roof of gray-stone tiles rich with the warm golden green of mossy patterns. He looked at the four pear trees against the walls of the house, barren now for many years. He looked at himself in silhouette against the silver sky of the well-water; and then he went in-doors. The big stone-paved hall was very cool, and the sound of the stream at the back came babbling through lattices open to the light of a green world. Guy could not make up his mind whether the inside of the house smelled very dry or very damp, for there clung about it that odor peculiar to rustic age, which may be found equally in dry old barns and in damp potting-sheds. He wished he could furnish the hall worthily. At present it contained only a high-back chair, an alleged contemporary of Cromwell, which was doddering beside the hooded fireplace; a warming pan; and an oak chest which remained a chest only so long as nobody either sat upon it or lifted the lid. There was also a grandfather-clock which had suffered an abrupt resurrection of four minutes' duration when it was recently lifted out of the furniture van, but had now relapsed into the silence of years. Compton Mackenzie. Now compare the number of details given with the num- ber in the preceding description. You will find that although the second is about fifty words longer, and includes an inte- rior as well as an exterior view, it contains by actual count only about half as many details. The reader for the moment is Guy, sitting on the well-parapet, and he supplies from his imagination details about the porch and cherubs, etc.; and with Guy he goes indoors and supplies the hall furniture out of his own experience of antiques. In the following paragraph, note how simply and how definitely each change in the point of view is indicated as the men in the boat row all day long until they reach the land. Very few details are given; and as the boat lands in the dark, the appeal to the sense of smell replaces appeal to sight: And this is how I see the East. I have seen its secret places and have looked into its very soul; but now I see it always from a small DESCRIPTION 173 boat, a high outline of mountains, blue and afar in the morning; like faint mist at noon; a jagged wall of purple at sunset. I have the feel of the oar in my hand, the vision of the scorching blue sea in my eyes. And I see a bay, a wide bay, smooth as glass and polished like ice, shimmering in the dark. A red light burns far off upon the gloom of the land, and the night is soft and warm. We drag at the oars with aching arms, and suddenly a puff of wind, a puff faint and tepid and laden with strange odors of blossoms, of aromatic wood, comes out of the still night the first sigh of the East on my face. That I can never forget. It was impalpable and enslaving, like a charm, like a whispered promise of mysterious delight. Joseph Conrad. Is the narrator a man of artistic sensibility or matter-of- fact? ASSIGNMENT 1. Tell all that you can about the sex, personality, and mood of each observer, and also about the conditions under which each observation was made in the following: " Gussie Bloom went by the house last night. She was wearing a new brown suit with a pleated skirt, and a hat with red roses." "That wasn't a new suit. I met her on the road this morning. It was her last winter's suit with some new braid on the coat. And those roses her sister Sally wore on a black hat all last winter." "A girl with a peach-blossom face and Titian hair, a very Hebe dressed in long lines of stuff, brown madder in hue, intensified to crimson in the roses of her hat." "Gussie looked mighty sweet when she came into the store to- day to buy a pair of gloves. Five and three-quarters she wears. Prettiest little hand in the world. I almost forgot to let it go!" "The girl was not bad-looking, but dressed in a half-cotton sweatshop suit and a home-trimmed hat hopelessly out of date." 2. Write two paragraphs describing the street you know best as it looks (1) from a window on a morning in early spring; (2) from the sidewalk at a given point on a winter night. 3. Describe in less than fifty words some town that you know well as seen from a distance; and in another fifty words or less give a "close up" of its principal street. Make it evident in your descriptions what the season, time, and weather were at the time of observation. 4. Take the last exercises and change all the conditions of ob- 174 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH servation, noting what details you must omit, and what fresh de- tails you must add. 5. Write a description in fifty words or less of the sounds that you have noted in a corner of a wood or garden, or of the campus. Use few details, but make each one count. See that they all belong to the conditions of your point of view. 6. Write in less than a hundred words a description of some storm that made a special impression upon you. Describe the differ- ent movements of the trees if it was a wind storm; the different ways in which the rain or snow affected objects on the ground, etc. 7. Write in a sentence each the following descriptions: (1) A baby, described by its mother; by a brother nine years old; by the man in the flat below. (2) An automobile as seen by its owner; by the owner of a more expensive car; by a man who cannot afford a car. (3) A man as seen by his employer; by his mother; by his wife; by his neighbor; by his three-year old daughter. (4) A woman as seen by her servant; by a neighbor; by a shop- girl; by her dressmaker; by her doctor. 4. GENERAL IMPRESSION For the experienced writer all these eliminations of mate- rial dependent upon point of view and mood have become instinctive. In facing a subject for description he imme- diately begins an active search for a unifying principle that will hold together the details which are most character- istic of the subject which set it apart from all other things of its kind. Such a principle at once involves further sim- plification the elimination of more material as irrelevant. Often such a principle suggests itself as a general impression which comes to us at the first glance. We say: "A blue room" "a golden wood" "a shabby man" "an untidy girl." Then we observe that most of the furniture in the room is blue; that hickory, maple, and beach trees make the wood golden; that a shiny coat, frayed cuffs, and patched boots make the man shabby; that straggling hair, a soiled waist, and a crooked skirt make the girl look untidy. But DESCRIPTION 175 we may also notice a green chair in the blue room, a red maple in the golden wood; the man may be wearing a clean collar, and the girl new gloves. These details are inconsistent with our first general impression. If we lump together in our description blue things and things not blue, golden leaves and leaves not golden, shabby dress and smart dress, untidiness and neatness, the reader will not know in what proportions to construct his image; he will get only a blur. We can help him by using a general impression in one of two ways. If the details that do not harmonize with it are unimportant, we may neglect them altogether. If they are discordant, and prominent, then what we have is not a single but a double impression, and we represent this by contrasting as sharply as we can its opposing elements: we deliberately emphasize the touch of crimson in the blue room or the yellow wood; the contrasting features in the general shabbiness of the man and untidiness of the girl. The very contrast em- phasizes the contrary general impression, because the single feature seems out of place. So far the problem is easy. But you will perhaps say that there are people and places that do not at once suggest a general impression. There is, however, nothing so complex or so colorless that it will not yield to observation and con- sideration an impression to which its major details con- tribute, even if this impression be only of complexity or of colorlessness. It is the writer's business to subject everything that presents itself to a scrutiny that ends be the process instantaneous or slow in the reduction of its details either to a single unifying principle, or to a dominant principle with which a minority of details are not in accord, but which, by emphasizing the contrast, becomes a unifying principle. This general impression may be expressed in terms of form: The peaks are tall and thin like close-clustered cathedral spires. The building is E-shaped, placed so that the bottom line faces 176 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH north. In this wing are the offices ; the dormitories are in the parallel south wing the upper line of the E; and the classrooms in the long connecting line from which projects to the west the library ending in a port-cochere the short middle stroke of the letter. Or the general impression may be of color. In the follow- ing, note that all green is omitted, although naturally it was still to be found in the woods: All things brown, and yellow, and red, are brought out by the autumn sun; the brown furrows freshly turned where the stubble was yesterday, the brown bark of trees, the brown fallen leaves, the brown stalks of plants; the red haws, the red unripe black- berries, red bryony berries, reddish-yellow fungi; yellow hawkweed, yellow ragwort, yellow hazel-leaves, elms, spots in lime or beech; not a speck of yellow, red, or brown the yellow sunlight does not find out. Richard Je/eries. In the following paragraph the general impression is of remoteness. Do you find a single detail that does not suggest this idea? On a summer's day Wolstanbury Hill is an island in sunshine; you may lie on the grassy rampart, high up in the most delicate air Grecian air, pellucid alone, among the butterflies and humming bees at the thyme, alone and isolated; endless masses of hills on three sides, endless weald or valley on the fourth; all warmly lit with sunshine, deep under liquid sunshine like the sands under the liquid sea, no harshness of man-made sound to break the insulation amid nature, on an island in a far Pacific of sunshine. Richard Jefferies. Name all the words and phrases that carry out the general idea underlying the description. In the following, note how every detail contributes to the general impression of hideous and expensive gorgeousness : In Swithin's orange and light-blue dining-room, facing the Park, the round table was laid for twelve. A cut-glass chandelier filled with lighted candles hung like a giant stalactite above its center, radiating over large gilt-framed mirrors, slabs of marble on the tops of side-tables, and heavy gold chairs with crewel worked seats. John Galsworthy, DESCRIPTION 177 List the details which show wealth; those which indicate spaciousness; those which suggest over-ornamentation; those which suggest ugliness. Unless the reader himself has "an impatience of simplicity, a love of ormolu," he will easily summon up images of the most expensively overfurnished house that he knows and impose upon his memory of it the blue-and-gold, and cut-glass, marble, gold, and fancy work of the description. In the following little portraits of men who have made money, note how the details in each case are constructed to give a general impression of (1) luxurious self-satisfaction; (2) nervous greed; (3) snobbishness. Note also how def- initely each figure is placed as if seen by some person in the room: Over against the piano a man of bulk and stature was wearing two waistcoats on his wide chest, two waistcoats and a ruby pin, instead of the single satin waistcoat and diamond pin of more usual occasions, and his shaven, square old face, the color of pale leather, with pale eyes, had its most dignified look, above its satin stock. This was Swithin Forsyte. Close to the window, where he could get more than his fair share of fresh air, the other twin, James the fat and the lean of it, old Jolyon called these brothers like the bulky Swithin, over six feet in height, but very lean, as though destined from his birth to strike a balance and maintain an average, brooded over the scene with his permanent stoop; his grey eyes had an air of fixed absorption in some secret worry, broken at in- tervals by a rapid, shifting scrutiny of surrounding facts; his cheeks thinned by two parallel folds, and a long, clean-shaven lip, were framed within Dundreary whiskers. In his. hands he turned and turned a piece of china. Not far off, listening to a lady in brown, his only son Soames, pale and well-shaved, dark-haired, rather bald, had poked his chin up sideways, carrying his nose with that afore- said appearance of "sniff," as though despising an egg which he knew he could not digest. John Galsworthy. Note both how incomplete the list of details is in each case, and how the emphasis shifts : Swithin's clothes, James's leanness, and Soames's position. Can you supply the missing 178 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH details from those given? How would Swithin stand and walk? How was James dressed? Soames? Decide of which one each of the following phrases was used: "twisting his long, thin legs"; "with a chest like a pouter pigeon's, came strutting towards them"; "looked downwards and aslant, ... as though trying to see through the side of his own nose." Tell which of the three men spoke each of the following: "Well, he takes good care of himself. I can't afford to take the care of myself that he does." "Exercise . . . I take plenty: I never use the lift at the Club." "I'm very well, in myself, . . . but my nerves get out of order. The least thing worries me to death." "That's genuine old lacquer; you can't get it nowadays. It'd do well in a sale at Jobson's. ... I wouldn't mind having it my- self . . . you can always get your price for old lacquer." John Galsworthy. As you read the book, A Man of Property, you will find that every later description, every speech, and every action of each of these characters is simply a development of the qualities implied in the first general impression. Your chief aim, then, should be to get a vital relationship between your general impression and the details which you enumerate; that is, every detail should contribute to the impression, and there should be no details which do not so contribute unless these are related by deliberate contrast. It is not always necessary to state the impression; but the reader should be able to feel it in each detail, and so to con- struct it for himself. ASSIGNMENT 1. State the general impression underlying the following sketch; also the extent to which it is conditioned by the point of view and the nature of the writer: " I stayed in London for a few days one November in the middle of a school term. One evening the blue dusk had crept on, and DESCRIPTION 179 the streets were lit with bluish and yellow lamps. We were coming home from some show, and climbed on to the top of an omnibus. Then I saw the great stretch of dark houses like the rocks in a sea and the wide sky and the spits of light, and heard the sounds of many people and the clatter of horses and cart-wheels, and a sud- den fear came to me that it was impossible for one God to know the lives of all these people." Joan Arden. Write a similar sketch of about the same length of a similar sub- ject; but be true to your own impression. 2. Criticize the following sketch of a country dry-goods store, telling where the general impression is lost: "... It had a tired atmosphere, which closed round you as you got inside the swinging glass doors. But I liked to wait at the counter while the weary, bald-headed shopman measured out ribbon, for once he had given me the blank paper which falls away from the ribbon as it is unwound, and I hoped that he might again, but he never did. It was fun to walk about in the part of the shop where women's clothes were shown, and, when no one was looking, punch the senseless people who stood on one leg with no head and very definite figures." Joan Arden. Rewrite, keeping the impression first suggested, and the same details. Your problem is how to associate the idea of fatigue with the lay figures. 3. Write in about 100 words a sketch of your childish memory of one of these: the school bookstore; the grocery store; the drug- store. 4. State the general impression of the following in the author's own words: "Thus, when Mr. Maybold raised his eyes ... he beheld glaring through the door Mr. Penny in full-length portraiture, Mail's face and shoulders above Mr. Penny's head, Spinks's forehead and eyes over Mail's crown, and a fractional part of Bowman's counte- nance under Spinks's arm crescent-shaped portions of other heads and faces being visible behind these the whole dozen and odd eyes bristling with eager inquiry." Thomas Hardy. What details would make it easy for an artist to sketch the group? Write a similar description of a group in less than 100 words. 5. Sum up in two words the general impression of the following. Name all the details that bear it out. What one word in the last sentence suggests it? Do you find any irrelevant details? Where is the observer, and what is he doing? What is his mood? 180 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH "Van Ness Avenue was very still. It was about half -past seven. The curtains were down in all the houses; here and there a servant could be seen washing down the front steps. In the vestibules of some of the smaller houses were loaves of French bread and glass jars of cream, while near them lay the damp twisted roll of the morning's paper. There was everywhere a great cluttering of sparrows, and the cable-cars, as yet empty, trundled down the cross streets, the conductors cleaning the windows and metal work. From far down at one end of the avenue came the bells of the Catholic Cathedral ringing for early mass; and a respectable- looking second girl hurried past him carrying her prayer-book. At the other end of the avenue was a blue vista of the bay, the great bulk of Mount Tamalpais rearing itself out of the water like a waking lion." Frank Norris. Write a description in about 200 words of some familiar street early in the morning, or late at night. Be definite as to the season and weather, and keep a general impression throughout, but in- troduce, if you wish, one or two contrasting details. 6. Analyze each of the following studies, and write a similar one of about the same length based upon your own observations: "The devoted maiden friends came now from their rooms, each by magic arrangement in a differently colored frock, but all with the same liberal allowance of tulle on the shoulders and at the bosom for they were, by some fatality, lean to a girl. They were all taken up to Mrs. Small. None stayed with her more than a few seconds, but clustering together, talked and twisted their programmes, looking secretly at the door for the first appearance of a man." .... "Three or four of Francie's lovers now appeared, one after the other; she had made each promise to come early. They were all clean-shaven and sprightly, with that peculiar kind of young-man sprightliness which had recently invaded Kensington; they did not seem to mind each other's presence in the least, and wore their ties bunching out at the ends, white waistcoats, and socks with clocks. All had handkerchiefs concealed in their cuffs. They moved buoyantly, each armored in professional gaiety, as though he had come to do great deeds. Their faces when they danced, far from wearing the traditional solemn look of the dancing English- man, were irresponsible, charming, suave; they bounded, twirling their partners at great pace, without pedantic attention to the rhythm of the music." .... "Men were scarce, and wallflowers wore their peculiar, pathetic expression, a patient, sourish smile which seemed to say: 'Oh, no, don't mistake me, I know you are not coming up to me. I can hardly expect that.' And Francie would plead with one of her DESCRIPTION 181 lovers, or with some callow youth: 'Now, to please me, do let me introduce you to Miss Pink; such a nice girl, really,' and she would bring him up, and say: 'Miss Pink Mr. Gathercole. Can you spare him a dance?' Then Miss Pink, smiling her forced smile, coloring a little, answered: 'Oh, I think so' and screening her empty card, wrote on it the name of Gathercole, spelling it passion- ately in the district that he proposed, about the second extra. But when the youth had murmured that it was hot, and passed, she relapsed into her attitude of hopeless expectation, into her patient, sourish smile." John Galsworthy. 7. Sum up a costume in a single sentence after the manner of the following, but with an entirely different general impression: "She was sombrely magnificent this evening in black bom- bazine, with a mauve front cut in a shy triangle, and crowned with a black velvet ribbon round the base of her thin throat; black and mauve for evening wear was esteemed very chaste by nearly every Forsyte." John Galsworthy. 8. Write in about 100 words each a group of sketches of some room that you know under the following conditions: (1) Shabby, as seen on a summer morning by a rich woman of artistic tastes. (2) Cosy, as seen by a tired man on a dark winter evening. (3) Picturesque, as seen by an artist. Choose your own time of day. (4) Out-of-date, as seen by a furniture dealer. (5) Dirty, as seen by a New England housekeeper; homelike, as seen by the owner. (6) Gorgeous, as seen by a poor child. Try to make your details as mutually exclusive as possible; and to get distinctive features. 9. Bring to class from some magazine or book that you are read- ing three descriptions which you consider good, and three which are bad. Try to represent scenes, people, and interiors in your choice. Test them by the laws of description. 10. Decide whether the dominant impression of the following is of dullness or of peace. Use the same details, and write a descrip- tion of a forlorn garden; of a peaceful garden: "In the next house some one was playing La Donna e mobile on an untuned piano; and the little garden had fallen into shade, the sun now only reached the wall at the end, whereon basked a crouching cat, her yellow eyes turned sleepily down on the dog Balthazar. There was a drowsy hum of very distant traffic; the 182 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH creepered trellis round the garden shut out everything but sky, and house, and pear-tree, with its top branches still gilded by the sun." John Galsworthy. 11. State the general impression of the following; then show orally how it might be changed to leave an impression of imprison- ment from the open air: "Here Nature is unapproachable with her green, airy canopy, a sun-impregnated cloud cloud above cloud; and though the highest may be unreached by the eye, the beams yet filter through, illuming the wide spaces beneath chamber succeeded by cham- ber, each with its own special lights and shadows. Far above me, but not nearly so far as it seemed, the tender gloom of one such chamber or space is traversed now by a golden shaft of light falling through some break in the upper foliage, giving a strange glory to everything it touches projecting leaves, and beard-like tuft of moss, and snaky bush-rope. And in the most open part of that most open space, suspended on nothing to the eye, the shaft reveals a tangle of shining silver threads the web of some large tree- spider." W. H. Hudson. 5. PLAN When a single impression or a small group of impressions is not sufficient to suggest a scene as a whole, it is necessary, besides keeping in mind very definitely the point of view with all its conditions, both physical and mental, to arrange the material used according to some plan. Thus in the description of Guy's house on p. 171 the details were men- tioned in the order in which Guy noticed them. The three men described on p. 177 were grouped as they might have been in a portrait group. In general, where you have more than a very few details, it is well to proceed as the artist does in setting off a picture to be painted; he holds up a small black frame which shuts out the surrounding objects and isolates a small group within it. This he moves about until he gets what he needs for his picture in the right composi- tion the grouping of its different parts with reference to one another; and then proceeds to block in his details in some definite order with reference to one another on the canvas. DESCRIPTION 183 In the following, note how clearly the point of view, th& season, the weather, are given; and how clearly the picture is suggested from each side of the tower in turn; also how clearly it moves from the most striking objects in the fore- ground to the most remote that are visible. In this way the reader's imagination sweeps the imaginary landscape in the order in which the people in the story looked at the real scene. Note also that all the details are seen in proportion as from a height: The stairs grew more narrow and musty as they went higher; but all the way at intervals there were deep slits in the walls, fram- ing thin pictures of the outspread country below the tower. Still up they went past the bell-ropes, past the great bells themselves that hung like a cluster of mighty fruit, until finally they came out through a small turret to meet the March sky. The spire, that rose as high again as they had already come, occupied nearly all the space and left only a yard of leaded roof on which to walk; but even so, up here where the breeze blew strongly, they seemed to stand in the very course of the clouds with the world at their feet. Northward they looked across the brown mill-stream; across Guy's green orchard; across the flashing tributary beyond the meadows, to where the Shipcot road climbed the side of the wold. Westward they looked to Flasher's Mead and Miss Peasey flapping a table- cloth; to Guy's mazy garden and the gray wall under the limes; and farther to the tree- tops of Wychford Abbey; to the twining waters of the valley and the rounded hills. Southward they looked to Wychford town in tier on tier of shining roofs; and above the translucent smoke to where the telegraph-poles of the long highway went rocketing into Gloucestershire. And lastly eastward they looked through a flight of snowy pigeons to the Rectory asleep in gardens that already were painted with the simple flowers of spring. Compton Mackenzie. Although in general it is well to keep your descriptions so short and so closely related to narrative that plan is not a serious consideration, this point is worth remembering: The plan which begins with the subject itself and attempts to lay it out in the order in which the details actually occur 184 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH in the scene itself is more likely to be mechanical than that which follows some order of observation. Order imposed by the subject is useful chiefly in clarifying an intricate subject such as you are not likely to have to deal with for some time, as, for instance, the plan of a battlefield. Almost any scene is best handled in one of two orders of ob- servation: 1. Beginning with what is nearest and proceeding to what is most remote. 2. Beginning with what strikes the eye first because it is the dominating feature of the scene, and grouping every- thing else with reference to it. The first method is exemplified in the following: Downward went his gaze, past the chaos of limestone boulders and cliffs fantastically carved into gargoyles and corbels of ludicrous and monstrous humanity down and down, until he drew in his breath. It was not perhaps so far in hundreds of metres, but it was desperately sheer and under-eaten, and at the bottom was a great debris of broken rocks. Still down and afield went his glance, past the olive-groves descending the slopes of red earth, past the brief uplift of the foothills, bronzed with fir-woods that seemed like low scrub from that height; onward he gazed, past a pale strip of meadow, the red and grey blur of a village, past marshes with shal- low lagoons silvery in the blaze of the sun. There, after the bronze and green and red and gold there began the blue; folded veils of azure and violet and ultramarine, passing away, line upon line, here and there empurpled with heat or with shadow, with who could say what? until the sky fell and the sea rose to the meeting, and the land embraced both or was absorbed, and nothing remained but blue the measureless blue of unending space the blue where all things meet and are one. Edith Rickert. The second method is exemplified in the following de- scription of a Japanese garden: There are large rocks in it, heavily mossed; and divers fantastic basins of stone for holding water; and stone lamps green with years; and a schachihoko, such as one sees at the peaked angles of castle roofs, a great stone fish, an idealized porpoise, with its nose in the ground and its tail in the air. There are miniature hills, with DESCRIPTION 185 old trees upon them; and there are long slopes of green, shadowed by flowering shrubs, like river banks; and there are green knolls like islets. All these verdant elevations rise from spaces of pale yellow sand, smooth as a surface of silk and miming the curves and meanderings of a river course. These sanded spaces are not to be trodden upon; they are much too beautiful for that. The least speck of dirt would mar their effect; and it requires the trained skill of an experienced native gardener a delightful old man he is to keep them in perfect form. But they are traversed in various directions by lines of flat unhewn rock slabs, placed at slightly irregular dis- tances from one another, exactly like stepping-stones across a brook. The whole effect is like that of the shores of a still stream in some lovely, lonesome, drowsy place. Lafcadio Hearn. ASSIGNMENT 1. From the current numbers of good magazines select several long descriptions. Study these to find the plans on which they are constructed. Note on cards the answers to such questions as these : At what point in the picture does the description begin? In what directions does it move? Is the observer's point of view changed in the course of the description? Discuss these notes in class. 2. Make plans for the description of the following, trying to get as many variant plans for each as possible: (1) the campus; (2) your home town; (3) some room that you like; (4) the prettiest spot you know; (5) the ugliest spot you know. 6. COMBINED WITH NARRATION Thus far we have been studying description as applied to stationary objects and scenes. It is quite as important to learn how to describe action and movement to suggest moving pictures to your readers. In* short stories this is the type of description most used. For this kind of description there is only one rule: Lean heavily upon your verbs. As the verb is the only word that can express action as going on, you must crowd into each verb as much, descriptive quality as it will bear. Make the verb do much of the work of the adverb, the adjective, and even the noun. Perhaps no better illustration of this process 186 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH has ever been written than Kipling's Toomai of the Elephants, which describes first the flight of an elephant through the jungle by night, and then a nocturnal dance of elephants. Good as it is in every way, its representation of different kinds of action and movement is not soon paralleled. Note the dynamic quality of the verbs, and the extensive use of verbal derivatives, participles and gerunds: Sometimes a tuft of high grass washed along his sides as a wave washes along the sides of a ship, and sometimes a cluster of wild- pepper vines would scrape along his back, or a bamboo would creak where his shoulder touched it; but between those times he moved absolutely without any sound, drifting through the thick Garo forest as though it had been smoke Toomai leaned forward and looked, and he felt that the forest was awake below him awake and alive and crowded. A big brown fruit-eating bat brushed past his ear; a por- cupine's quills rattled in the thicket, and in the darkness between the tree-stems he heard a hog-bear digging hard in the moist warm earth, and snuffing as it digged. Then the branches closed over his head again, and Kala Nag began to go down into the valley not quietly this time, but as a runaway gun goes down a steep bank in one rush. The huge limbs moved as steadily as pistons, eight feet to each stride, and the wrinkled skin of the elbow-points rustled. The undergrowth on either side of him ripped with a noise like torn canvas, and the sap- lings that he heaved away right and left with his shoulders sprang back again, and banged him on the flank, and great trails of creepers, all matted together, hung from his tusks as he threw his head from side to side and plowed out his pathway. . . . The grass began to get squashy and Kala Nag's feet sucked and squelched as he put them down, and the night mist at the bottom of the valley chilled little Toomai. There was a splash and a trample, and the rush of running water, and Kala Nag strode through the bed of a river, feeling his way at each step. . . . Kala Nag swashed out of the water, blew his trunk clear, and began another climb; but this time he was not alone, and he had not to make his path. That was made already, six feet wide, in front of him, where the bent jungle-grass was trying to recover itself and stand up. Many elephants must have gone that way only a few minutes before. Little Toomai looked back, and behind him a great DESCRIPTION 187 wild tusker with his little pig's eyes glowing like hot coals, was just lifting himself out of the misty river. Then the trees closed up again and they went on and up, with trumpetings and crashinys, and the sound of breaking branches on every side of them. At last Kala Nag stood still between two tree-trunks at the very top of the hill. They were part of a circle of trees that grew round an irregular space of some three or four acres, and in all that space, as Little Toomai could see, the ground had been trampled down as hard as a brick floor Little Toomai looked, holding his breath, with eyes starting out of his head, and as he looked, more and more and more elephants swung out into the open from between the tree- trunks At last there was no sound of any more elephants moving in the forest, and Kala Nag rolled out from his station between the trees and went into the middle of the crowd, clucking and gurgling, and all the elephants began to talk in their own tongue, and to move about. Still lying down, Little Toomai looked down upon scores and scores of broad backs, and wagging ears, and tossing trunks, and little rolling eyes. He heard the click of tusks as they crossed other tusks by accident, and the dry rustle of trunks twined together, and the chafing of enormous sides and shoulders in the crowd, and the incessant flick and 'hissh' of the great tails. Then a cloud came over the moon, and he sat in black darkness; but the quiet, steady hustling and pushing and gurgling went on just the same. . . . Then an elephant trumpeted, and they all took it up for five or ten terrible seconds. The dew from the trees above spattered down like rain on the unseen backs, and a dull booming noise began, not very loud at first, and Little Toomai could not tell what it was; but it grew and grew, and Kala Nag lifted up one fore foot and then the other, and brought them down on the ground one- two, one- two, as steadily as trip-hammers. The elephants were stamping altogether now, and it sounded like a war-drum beaten at the mouth of a cave. The dew fell from the trees till there was no more left to fall, and the booming went on, and the ground rocked and shivered, and Little Toomai put his hands up to his ears to shut out the sound. But it was all one gigantic jar that ran through him this stamp of hundreds of heavy feet on the raw earth. Once or twice he could feel Kala Nag and all the others surge forward a few strides, and the thumping would change to the crushing sound of juicy green things being bruised, but in a minute or two the boom of feet on hard earth began again 188 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The morning broke in one sheet of pale yellow behind the green hills, and the booming stopped with the first ray, as though the light had been an order Kipling. Out of nearly a hundred verb forms used in this passage, not one-tenth belong to the static verb to be. The Jungle Books are full of this vivid, rushing description of moving things, which almost takes on the character of narration. You cannot do better than read them if you wish to see how description can be made as interesting as a story. Perhaps the best from this point of view are: Kaa's Hunting; The Spring Running; The Miracle of Purun Bhagat; How Fear Came; Letting in the Jungle. ASSIGNMENT 1. Write a picture of movement (300 words or more) of one of the following: (1) An exciting game of football, or baseball; (2) a tennis tour- nament; (3) a boat race. 2. Write in 300 words, from the point of view of a person in an automobile, impressions of a drive at high speed. Be definite as to the time of year and of day. 3. Write in 300 words the changing impressions of a landscape as seen from a car window. 4. Describe in 100 words each of the following: (1) a person's peculiar walk; (2) a squirrel hunting food; (3) a dog bent on general investigation; (4) a cat stalking prey; (5) a tree in a storm. CHAPTER XI EXPOSITION 1. METHODS WE have in our minds certain ideas about ourselves and the world, derived from what we have seen and thought and felt; when we try to explain these to others, we are using the methods of exposition. These methods are numerous and varied. Let us see how they work. 1. Fifteen or twenty years ago when the automobile was in its infancy, we may imagine a backwoodsman meeting for the first time with the word automobile in his weekly paper. Looking up at his wife, who is more widely read than he, he asks, "What does this word mean? What is an automobile?" " I never heard the word before," says she, " but I'll look it up in the dictionary." There she finds: " ... a self-propelled vehicle suitable for use on a street or roadway." The dic- tionary has explained the word automobile by definition. 2. But neither of them quite understands this; and it is not until the man returns from his next trip to town that he is able to supply the explanation they both wanted. He says to his wife, " I saw one of those automobiles in town. It's a sort of wagon that goes by itself." This explanation, or ex- position, may be regarded in two ways. In one sense it is exposition by definition this time, in familiar terms; but it also may be regarded as a re-wording of the dictionary definition, in which count it is exposition by paraphrase. 3. But the woman only stares at her husband: Who has ever heard of a wagon that goes without a horse? He explains 190 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH further: "You go by yourself, don't you? There's something inside you that makes you move without my tugging you along at every step? Well, this wagon has something inside it that makes it go I don't know what it is." What has the man done now? He has amplified his former statement and illustrated it by a similar case. He has used more words, in the hope of making a deeper impression, and he has ap- pealed to his wife's knowledge of what seems to him a sim- ilar case. He has used exposition by amplification and illustration. 4. The next time the man comes home he tells his wife: "I saw a lot of those automobiles going down the new road to-day. They're four-wheeled, and have big rubber tires on their wheels, and some of them have tops like buggy- tops; and they all have a wheel in front which the driver holds and keeps turning I guess it steers the thing. And they make a noise as they go; it sounds like a steam-engine; that must be the machinery that makes it go." Now the man has tried another method; he has tried to make his wife understand these unknown vehicles by describing how they all look and sound. So far he is using the method of exposition by gen- eralized description. But how does this differ from ordinary description? Perhaps she interrupts his account to ask: " What color are they ? " He answers : "Oh, different colors some red, some black, some other colors." She asks: "How big?" He answers: "Different sizes; some not much bigger than a small wagon, some twice as big." In description proper this range of variation in color and size is impossible, because description deals with individual things; exposition, on the other hand, sometimes, as here, deals with classes. But the poor woman is more confused than ever as to what an automobile really is. 5. An automobile manufacturer, who is taking his vacation by riding through the mountains on horseback, comes to spend the night at the cabin. The backwoodsman says to EXPOSITION 191 him: "These automobiles are wonderful things. I don't understand them." The manufacturer takes a sheet of paper and makes a drawing on it, saying: "I will explain it to you. An automobile is made up of so many parts ' Here he names the body, the wheels, the steering-gear, the engine, the carburetor, the tank, etc. This is exposition by division. After the stranger has divided the idea of the car into its main parts, he may subdivide each of these parts into its parts until he gets down to a part that cannot be subdivided. He can divide the tire, for instance, into casing and tube; but he cannot subdivide these; at this point he has reached simplicity. But when he has subdivided the machine into its units, the backwoodsman and his wife look at the drawings of these or listen to the description of them as if they were the pieces of a picture puzzle thrown into confusion. The method of division has given them less idea than they had before of the automobile. 6. So the manufacturer does not stop there. First, he ex- plains how the parts are put together in the making of the machine; he repeats the details of the process that is gone through every time an automobile is assembled. This is exposition by generalized narration. It differs from ordinary narration in that it relates not a single series of events, but a series of events indefinitely repeated in the same way. But in this case, it is probable that exposition by generalized narration is less clear to the listeners than to the speaker. 7. The man says: " I see now how it goes together; but how does it work? " The guest says : " You know how a locomotive is driven by steam. The steam is admitted into the cylinders, where it expands and pushes the pistons, which in turn move the wheels. An automobile has a similar arrangement of cylinders and pistons, and the motive power is gas, obtained from gasoline. This gas, mixed with air, is admitted into the cylinders and there is exploded by an electric spark. The explosion of the gas pushes the pistons just as the explo- 192 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH sion of steam does." And this is exposition by cause and effect. This method is the only one that really explains how it is that the automobile is self-propelling. 8. By this time the backwoodsman has some idea of an automobile, but his wife, who has never seen one, is still very vague about the matter. Suddenly a car drives up to the door. The backwoodsman calls his wife, saying: "Look, Amanda, this is an automobile. Here is the steering-gear, these are the levers, this is the tank, this is the engine" . . . and so on until he has explained to her that all the essential parts and qualities of any automobile, as they were explained to him by their guest, are to be found in this particular machine. This is exposition by example finding the general in the particular. And now for the first time the woman really understands what an automobile is and how it works. 9. But we have not yet exhausted the possibilities of ex- position. The owner of the car, as it happens, knows the manufacturer, who is still at the cabin, and the two men greet each other. "How is she doing?" asks the manufac- turer, referring to the car. "So-so," says the owner. "She drinks up a good deal of gas; but she eats up the roads better than my last, and she doesn't bump so much. I guess she's worth her keep." What is he doing? He is explaining the qualities not of automobiles in general, but of this particular car; and he does so by simple enumeration, in this case with some contrast. He does not describe the car they are all looking at it; he simply states the results of his observations and inferences, at the same time comparing them with earlier observations and inferences. This is exposition by enumeration of qualities. The method may be used alone, or in connection with comparison and contrast of the qual- ities of other similar or very different things. 10. But we may go even a step further. The manufacturer says: "I see. If you hadn't told me, I could have gathered as much from her looks." Then he adds that the lines of EXPOSITION 193 construction show that the car was built for speed, that he can see the shock-absorber, and has observed various other details, which show what its qualities must be. This is the method of characterization applied to the explanation of a particular thing. We may now perhaps consider that the automobile has served its turn, and proceed to sum up our results. It is clear that we have the choice of many methods in our efforts to explain; also that the method is to some extent dependent upon the idea itself or the form in which it is expressed. What is a kris? It is a dagger. Paraphrase is all that is needed here. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good" did this proverb ever puzzle you? Change its form and amplify: There is nothing so bad that it does not prove of advantage to somebody. Is not the idea clear now? If not, you can make it so by giving an example. What is fly-fishing? How can you give any idea of it except by generalized narration, with generalized description of the flies? What is electricity? How can you explain it except in terms of cause and effect? What is our federal government? It is by definition the system by which the people of the United States are governed. But definition tells us nothing at all about it. By division we explain the idea in terms of its three main branches: executive, legislative, and judicial; and subdivide these into the president and cabinet; the two houses of Congress; and the three types of federal courts. With the president the process of division stops; but the cabinet can be subdivided into its departments; and Congress and the courts into their constituent members. Of this complex organism, our Gov- ernment, then, definition gives no idea whatever; division gives a clear and definite impression, as far as it goes; but when its limit has been reached, we must resort to various other methods of exposition in order to explain fully so in- tricate a thing. Similarly, the exposition of a character may proceed by mere enumeration of qualities; or it may illustrate 194 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH these qualities by means of speech, action, habits, appearance; or it may interpret by setting forth the causes that have produced such a person, or by showing the influence of this person; or it may use all these methods in combination. The fundamental thing to remember about exposition is that it is always looking for the general truth. It may deal entirely with the class, or with general ideas or principles; it may explain the general by means of the individual which is used to represent it; it may explain the particular by means of its qualities; but it is always concerned with looking away from particular impressions and observations and in- ferences to the general truth that builds them into a system of relationships. ASSIGNMENT 1. Identify the methods of exposition used in the extracts quoted on pp. 300f. and 355f. Explain how other methods might have been used in certain cases, and show the differences in effectiveness. 2. Suggest methods of exposition that might be used in explaining each of the following (1) Radium as a Remedy (2) Labor Unions (3) How to Play Golf (or some other game) (4) My Weak Points in English (5) The Building of a Sky-Scraper (6) The American Farmer (7) The Influence of the Colleges on Political Life (8) American Inventions (9) The Spirit of Chicago (or some other place) (10) Camouflage 3. Find a short piece of exposition in one of the magazines popular or professional and note for class discussion the methods- employed. 2. DEFINITION We use definition to explain a class of things unknown to us. We read: "There were a thousand arbalests in the EXPOSITION 195 castle. . . ." What are arbalests? Cheeses or coats-of- mail? Definition will tell us by a double process of classifica- tion: (1) by referring the unknown class arbalest to a larger class with which we are familiar let us say weapon; and (2) by naming the essential point of difference between the smaller class (arbalest) and all other classes included within the larger class (weapon) to which it has just been referred; in this case the difference is that it consists of a steel bow set in a wooden shaft. In technical language, the class which we are defining is called the species; the larger class to which it is referred on the basis of common prop- erties, the genus; and the peculiar quality by which the species is distinguished from every other species within the genus, the differentia. We may represent definition thus: Species Genus Differentia arbalest weapon having steel bow set in wooden shaft The genus weapon includes innumerable species gun, sword, dagger, spear, cannon, etc. but none of these species has the differentia "consisting of a steel bow set in a wooden shaft." Arbalest is the only species of which this is true. Consequently, when we have named the genus and differen- tia of arbalest, we understand that it is a weapon different from every other weapon in the world. We do not yet know much about it; but we have at least set it apart put a fence around it (define =fix limits} as preliminary to further examination. Definition is merely the first step in the understanding of an idea. But to be of any value a definition must be at once close and accurate. To be close, it must use the smallest genus that will con- tain the species; to be accurate, it must use a differentia that belongs to one species alone. For instance, the genus weapon is enormous and contains innumerable species many of which differ so widely from 196 , THE WRITING OF ENGLISH arbalest that when we first think of weapon we may get an idea extremely unlike the kind of weapon that an arbalest really is. To define more closely, we may say that an arbalest is a bow; we have now shut out guns, swords, spears, daggers, and many other kinds of weapons. But can we get closer still? There are longbows and crossbows; an arbalest is a crossbow. Then a close definition of arbalest is Species Genus Differentia arbalest crossbow constructed with a steel bow and wooden shaft This definition is as close as possible, and as no other cross- bow has the same differentia, it is also accurate. But to be accurate, a definition must be referred to the proper genus. It is inaccurate to say that an arbalest is a longbow constructed with a steel bow and a wooden shaft, because an arbalest is not a longbow at all. The genus long- bom like the genus crossbow is included within the larger class weapon; but the two genera are mutually exclusive: no long- bow is a crossbow, and vice versa; and no longbow has the differentia which is peculiar to the crossbow. Consequently, in making longbow the genus for arbalest, the definition be- comes incorrect. Although in definition we classify our species into only one genus, note that each species may be a genus for a smaller group of things, and each genus a species for a larger group. Thus an arbalest is regarded as a species in defining it; but it is a genus of which Florentine arbalest (for which no special name is known) is a species; crossbow, which is a genus to which we have referred arbalest is in turn a species with reference to bow; and bow in turn, which is a genus to which crossbow and longbow may be referred, is in turn a species with reference to the huge genus weapon. Thus we have a whole series of classes, each including the one below it, which in turn includes fewer members than the one above. EXPOSITION 197 A close definition brings the species and genus as near to- gether as possible. In a scientific definition where all the branches of a system are understood by the person for whom the definition is made, the relationship between genus and species leaves no gap; but in a popular definition a cer- tain degree of looseness is often inevitable for the sake of clearness. Thus the reference of the species butterfly to the genus lepidopterons insects is close, but it is meaningless to the man who does not know the qualities of these insects. The ideal in making a definition is to have it as close as is compatible with the understanding of the people to whom it is to serve as an explanation. The process of making definitions is valuable training in exact thinking. As you practice it, you will observe that definitions in the small dictionaries are often loose and inexact partly because they must be brief and partly because they must be intelligible to persons of no technical knowledge and that they must be improved upon in the definitions that you make for your own use, if you are to develop habits of sound and scientific thinking. ASSIGNMENT 1. Define, without using the dictionary, by reference to a genus with a differentia each of the following: cat; piano; newspaper; machine-gun; aeroplane; chrysanthemum; astrology; chauffeur; hike; hyphen; monster; clock; compass. 2. Look up these words in the best dictionary available; defend your definitions when you can; and correct them when you cannot. 3. Look up the following words in the dictionary; note the genus and differentia separately: journeyman; falcon; fritillary, casern, architrave; radiograph; pentagram; octopus; rococo.; ukase. 4. Try to find at least one different genus and another differ- entia for each of the things named in 3. Criticize the resulting definitions as to closeness and accuracy. 5. Consider each of the things defined in the preceding exercises as subject to further exposition, and decide in each case what methods it would be best to use. 198 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. DIVISION Anything that is organized can be explained by the method of division. We may think vaguely of a cathedral as a big church; we may read of it as a church containing the cathedra, or bishop's throne; and still we have no real understanding of the structural differences between a church and a cathedral. But if we divide the general idea cathedral into its architec- tural divisions, we have: I. The cathedral church II. The cloisters III. The chapter house We see now that a cathedral is much more than an ordinary church. But we can continue the process of division for the church: I. The cathedral church A. The nave B. The transepts C. The choir D. The chancel E. The chapels F. Thetriforium In this way we approach much nearer to a conception of a cathedral than by definition. Note, however, that we may call definition in to explain nave, triforium, and other terms that we do not understand. The process of division may be carried as far as there is anything to divide; that is, until the subhead reached is a unit that cannot further be dismembered into its parts. You may divide an apple into skin, pulp, core, seeds, and stem; beyond that point you cannot find any parts that form units in the organization. But the more complex the subject is, the more advantageous is division as a method of exposition. True, it does not go very far; but it furnishes a sort of ground plan for a subject, which can then be fur- EXPOSITION 199 ther explained in other ways. By division, the subject A College would be set out perhaps under two main heads: I. The officers II. The students Each of these would subdivide: I. The officers A. The president B. The board of trustees C. The faculty 1. The department of philosophy a. The head of the department b. Professors c. Associate professors, d. Assistant professors e. Instructors f. Assistants 2. The department of history 3. The department of English, etc. II. The students A. Graduates B. Seniors C. Juniors D. Sophomores * E. Freshmen F. Unclassified This is of course not a complete division; and in the case of a University, with its various schools, the division would be far more elaborate. You see at once how far beyond the dictionary definition of college the process of division carries you. To be satisfactory, division must be: (1) complete that is, all the parts taken together must equal the whole; and (2) based upon the same principle throughout so that the parts are mutually exclusive, and do not overlap. Thus you may divide triangles into: 200 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH I. Equilateral II. Isosceles III. Scalene. There are no triangles that do not fall under one of these three heads; the three heads taken together are equivalent to the main head; and the three heads are mutually exclusive, so that no triangle can be classified under more than one. But if you divide triangles into I. Equilateral II. Isosceles III. Right-angled your division is wrong in two ways: (1) it is incomplete be- cause it does not include scalene triangles; and (2) II and III overlap because with III a different principle of division has been introduced: the division began on the basis of equality or inequality of the lines, and ended on the basis of angles. On the second principle the division should have been: I. Right-angled II. Acute-angled III. Obtuse-angled. Similarly, the division of cathedral, which was begun on an architectural principle, could not have been made to include the bishop, the dean, and the music as parts; nor could the division of college, which was made on the principle of con- stituent members, have included such heads as the campus, the chapel, and the athletic field. In dividing a subject, remember: (1) to use a single prin- ciple or basis of division throughout, or you will have over- lapping; and (2) to use a sufficient principle or basis, or you will omit some parts of the subject. ASSIGNMENT 1. Make a complete division of the subject "The Working of our Government" for a paper unlimited in length. 2. Suggest as many principles of division as you can for each of the following. Remember that each different principle involves a restating of the subject which may broaden or narrow it: Our Banking System; Our Railroad System; Our Navy; Our Army; Dressmaking; The Herring Industry; Bookmaking; Social Settle- ments; Aeroplanes; Electrical Comforts. 3. Narrow to the limits of a 500-word paper each of the following EXPOSITION 201 subjects: Photography; Vegetable Dyes; Ship-building; Modern Artistic Furniture. 4. Criticize and correct the following divisions: I. Ships Used in Warfare To-day 1. Steamers , 2. Turbines 3. Converted Liners 4. Destroyers 5. Boats of Reinforced Concrete 6. Fishing-boats 7. Submarines 8. German Types of Boats II. Famous Gardens 1. English 2. Italian 3. Formal 4. Made by famous people 5. Renowned for their beauty 6. Containing unusual features III. Women in Literature 1. Novelists 2. Englishwomen 3. Aristocrats 4. Married women 5. Self-made women 6. Geniuses IV. The Genius of Milton 1. His life 2. His political career 3. His prose 4. His Paradise Lost 5. His poems 6. His blindness 7. His place to-day V. Poetry of To-day 1. Dramatic 2. Free verse 3. Lyric 4. Imitative 5. Under French influence 6. The American note 7. Its future 202 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 4. EXEMPLIFICATION Exposition by means of examples is one of the most effect- ive ways of making ideas clear. The concrete is always easier to understand than the abstract. You hear people say, again and again, when a generalization is made, "For example?" And a good example often saves much time and energy. Examples are of two kinds: (1) An individual used to represent the class. Thus when we say: "Jonathan Bradford is a typical Yankee," the sen- tence brings to our minds a group of qualities which we think of as found in varying degrees in all New Englanders. (2) The particular instance of the working of a law or principle. Thus we may illustrate the law of gravity by the example of apples falling from the tree; the theory of com- pensation by a case of character developed through loss of wealth; the proverb, "A new broom sweeps clean," by an example taken from political life. To use exemplification successfully, several conditions are necessary: 1. The most important is that the example should be at once recognized as really representing the class that it stands for or as illustrating the principle that is supposed to be working in it. 2. The example itself must be interesting, must have point, must be treated much in the manner of the anecdote, if it is to make a deep impression. In making it interesting all the methods of narration and description may be called in. 3. It is much better as a rule to develop one striking exam- ple well and fully than to use several, even if they are all good; one tends to blur the impression of another. 4. If several are used, they must be arranged in the order of climax, or the reader's interest will diminish as he proceeds. EXPOSITION 203 The only point of difficulty in the use of exemplification is in dealing with the particular qualities of an individual who is used as a type of his class. If you ignore his peculiar qualities, he is likely to be little more than a "made-up" type. If you include his peculiarities, you are in danger of individualizing him to such an extent that he ceases to rep- resent his class. The way to avoid these two extremes is to show by unmistakable language when you are referring to the individual and when to the class. In the following quotations you will see two ways of doing this. The first describes an individual with continual reference (shown by italics) to the class that he represents; and the second de- scribes two people without reference to their class, allowing free play to individual peculiarities, and only at the end in- troduces the expository sentence in the summary telling that they represented a class. Now, although an architect by profession, he appeared to be anxious to be mistaken for a sporting squire. He wore very baggy knickerbockers and leggings, and a cap. This raiment was appar- ently the agreed uniform of the easy classes in the Five Towns; for in the crowd I had noticed several such consciously superior figures among the artisans. Mr. Brindley, like most of the people in the station, had a slightly pinched and chilled air, as though that morn- ing he had by inadvertence omitted to don those garments which are not seen. He also, like most of the people there, but not to the same extent, had a somewhat suspicious and narrowly shrewd re- gard, as who should say: "If any person thinks he can get the better of me by a trick, let him try that's all." Arnold Bennett. It was a 20 h. p. Panhard, and was worth over a thousand pounds as it stood there, throbbing, and Harold was proud of it. He was also proud of his young wife, Maud, who, clad in several hundred pounds' worth of furs, had taken her seat next to the steering-wheel, and was waiting for Harold to mount by her side. The united ages of this handsome and gay couple came to less than forty-five. And they owned the motor-car, and Bleakridge House with its ten bedrooms, and another house at Llandudno, and a controlling interest in Etches, Limited, that brought them in seven or eight 204 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH thousand a year. They were a pretty tidy example of what the Five Towns can do when it tries to be wealthy. Arnold Bennett. ASSIGNMENT 1. What qualities of Americans do you find in the familiar car- toon of Uncle Sam? Does the figure represent the American of to-day? Have you seen cartoons in which an effort was made to bring the type up to date? How did they differ from the usual cartoon? Write 200 words on this subject. 2. What qualities of the British soldier are summed up in Tommy Atkins? If you cannot answer this question, read some of the stories in Kipling's Soldiers Three and some of the poems in Barrack Room Ballads until you have an answer. 3. Examine a text-book in some science with which you are famil- iar, and mark for class discussion the three best illustrative passages that you can find of the process of explaining a principle by means of examples. 4. Make a list of as many proverbs as you can remember or find ten at least, and as many more as possible. Explain them orally by examples. 5. Write a 200-word paper on the proverb which can be best illustrated out of your own experience. Look for examples that will strike the attention because they are both somewhat out of the ordinary line of experience and in themselves picturesque or otherwise interesting. 6. Expand the following quotation into a 300-word newspaper article by means of examples: " It is the utter absence of anything approaching culture that makes American politics so deadly. It is an unmitigated affliction for a man of any taste to have to attend a political convention and write about the doings of a mess of politicians, or to sit in the halls of Congress and listen to the vapid speeches of the so-called repre- sentatives of the people. It is more than afflictive; it is depressing." 5. PARAPHRASE AND AMPLIFICATION In regard to the use of paraphrase in exposition the only thing to be said is that as it is the substitution of familiar terms for unfamiliar, it must always be simpler than its original, or it fails of its purpose. Amplification, with or EXPOSITION 205 without illustration, is commonly found with paraphrase; and it also implies simplification. A single example will suffice for both methods: There is an Oriental proverb : Remember that the friend of your friend has a friend. What does it mean? Every word is clear, every construction is clear, and the literal statement is true. But what of it? A friend is one to whom you may open your heart in full confidence that he will regard your interests as his own. If you tell your friend a secret, you be- lieve that he will keep it; but he believes the same of his friend, and passes the secret on; and presently it is no secret. A secret told to one trustworthy person seems safe; but if everyone acts on this theory, there can be no secrets. The meaning of the proverb becomes understood simply by repeating it in other words and at greater length. This method of exposition is often reinforced by the use of illus- tration or example, as you will readily see is possible in this case. Paraphrase and amplification are particularly useful to explain ideas expressed elliptically or figuratively. ASSIGNMENT 1. Explain orally by paraphrase or amplification, with or without illustration, the following: (1) Birds of a feather flock together. (2) A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. (3) "Men in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or state; servants of fame; and servants of business." (4) "He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune." (5) "For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love." (6) "Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts." (7) "Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams." 206 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 2. Look up one of the following statements in every way that seems necessary, and write a brief exposition of it: (1) "Speech is like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs." (2) " Dry light is best." (3) "But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity." (4) "Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and the mortal right-lined circle must conclude and shut up all." (5) "I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for not without dust and heat." 6. GENERALIZED DESCRIPTION AND NARRATION The methods of generalized description and narration need but little discussion. They are concerned not with reproduc- ing the things and events by which we are surrounded, but with explaining the classification of them by setting forth the composite impression made upon the mind through the physical properties common to all the members of a class. Generalized description may be written in the singular or plural, giving the range of variation of the shared properties; as, for instance, in describing some species of animal, the variations in habitat, size, colors, markings, etc., would all be indicated. The result would be, not a picture of one animal of this kind, but a basis for identifying any member of the class through knowledge of the physical properties of the class as a whole. This kind of generalized description is used much in scientific writing. Again, generalized description may be written by striking an average, as it were, of the properties of the members of the class, and describing a non-existent member regarded as a type of the class. This method makes a stronger, because / EXPOSITION 207 more sharply defined, impression; hence it is better for pop- ular exposition than the scientific method. Generalized narration of a sequence of events, as "A Freshman Day," should be distinguished from generalized description of a process, as "Learning to Swim." The description, of course, does not differ from the description of a static thing except as it involves the element of change. Note that the generalized description may be expressed in the first or second person, or impersonally. Thus in reporting a chemical experiment, the form may be: " I take so-and-so, and add. . . ." "Take so-and-so, and add. ..." "When so-and-so is added to. . . ." Recipes and instruc- tions are expressed in the imperative form; manufacturing processes are necessarily treated impersonally; with other subjects the method varies. The fundamental thing in dealing with these methods of exposition is to be sure that the qualities that you are pre- senting are actually common to the class, and not peculiar to the individual. ASSIGNMENT 1. Among the following, name the subjects that would be treated by generalized narration or description and alter the others so that they could be treated thus: My First Cherry Pie; How to Make Chocolate Cake; The Manufacture of Chlorine; The Busy Man; How Harold Recites; Keeping Chickens; How I Made Chickens Pay; How to Make Chickens Pay; Learning to Swim; How the Monotype Works; Glass-blowing; My Visit to the Glassworks; How Molly Voted; How Molly Votes; Molly at the Polls; How I Learned to Drive a Car; Learning to Drive a Car. 2. Bring to class jsix subjects for generalized narration and six for generalized description, of a scientific or practical type; and with each an outline for its treatment. Discuss and improve these outlines in class. 3. Write about 300 words on one of the following: (1) How I Write Letters; or How I Read a Novel; or How I Work in the Library. 208 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (2) Going to the Dressmaker. (3) How to Put a Tire on an Automobile. (4) Some process of manufacture with which you are familiar. 7. CAUSE AND EFFECT If you will look up in the dictionary the noun change, you will find as the principal definition something like this: "Act or fact of changing, as in conditions or circumstances." This is merely an amplification of change = change. Now look up the verb change to see if it throws light on the idea. You will read something like this : "To alter by substituting something for, or by giving up for something else; put or take another or others in place of." Do you know now the meaning of change? Has definition helped? Can you divide change? You can illustrate it by saying: "This leaf was green and now is yellow"; or: "This house was solid and is now a ruin." Between the former and the present condition lies change. But do you know much more than you did before about the nature of change itself? Look up in the dictionary various other words that rep- resent the great forces and laws of Nature motion, electric- ity, life, wind, heat, energy, magnetism, gravity, light, etc. How much explanation do you get of the nature of these forces? In our present state of knowledge we cannot under- stand them or explain them at all; we can only give examples of their manifestations, and tell the conditions under which they seem invariably to appear, and the effects that they seem invariably to produce upon the physical matter associated with them; that is, we explain them so far as we do explain at all in terms of cause and effect. This method of exposition is used constantly in all the sciences, social as well as experimental; and is similar to the explanation of a thing through its physical manifestations, except that in this case the physical manifestations appear EXPOSITION 209 not in the thing that we are trying to explain but in other things associated with it. The method which is necessary in dealing with the un- known forces that control the universe may be used of any idea in which cause and effect is under consideration. The analysis of a situation in terms of cause and effect may proceed in one of three ways. We may ask ourselves (1) Why is it as it is? The answer to this question will be a group of causes. We may ask ourselves (2) What came of it? The answer to this question will be a group of effects. Finally, we may ask ourselves (3) What is its place in the chain of circumstances? To see this we may answer: It came into existence through A, B, C, etc. (causes), and it will help to bring into existence A', B', C', etc. (effects) ; it is an effect of A, B, C, and a cause of A', B', C', etc. Or we may say: It is a complexity in which are discernible many strands of cause-and-effect, as A>A', B>B', OC', etc. Suppose you are asked to write a paper on: Why are Americans snobbish? The statement of the title shows at once that you are given an effect and asked to explain its causes. Your problem, then, is simple; you have only to an- swer the question why. You will think at once of several statements beginning with because, that will furnish the main outlines of your paper: I. Because there is great inequality of wealth. II. Because there is great diversity of race and social position. III. Because only five per cent of the people go to high school and only one per cent to college. IV. Because social standards are so uncertain and so variable that snobbery becomes almost necessary in self- defense. Upon these and similar reasons you can build up a paper. Your only concern will be to have your reasons of approx- imately the same degree of importance, and to arrange them 210 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH in the order of increasing importance, or of increasing in- terest. If it should happen that you would deny the assumption of the subject, then you can only re-state your subject to accord with your own belief, and proceed to analysis of the new subject. In this case, your subject might be: Why Are Americans Democratic? Suppose your subject is stated : How Does Sudden Wealth Affect People? You see at once that you are asked to deal with a cause, and to evolve its effects. You will begin by remembering the effects caused by sudden wealth in the families of Smith, Brown, and Robinson; and you will soon have the first stages of an outline: I. It brings out bad traits of character. II. It brings out bad taste. III. It produces unhappiness. Each of these, of course, must be analyzed further. Wealth brings out weaknesses of character, because . . . ; brings out bad taste, because . . . ; produces unhappiness, be- cause .... But suppose you are asked to write on: The Effects of the Use of Aeroplanes on the Conduct of the War. You will see that the Use of Aeroplanes is regarded as the cause of certain effects. As aeroplanes are used in different ways and for different purposes, your cause is complex and must be analyzed into the various uses made of aeroplanes, each of which will have its particular effect or effects. The outline of your paper, then, will involve a series of causes and effects: I. As aeroplanes can view the whole countryside, the dis- position of troops must be altered: 1. Deep, permanent trenches must be abandoned. 2. Camouflage must be used. II. As aeroplanes can carry enough ammunition to attack, anti-aircraft defenses must be employed. EXPOSITION 211 III. As aeroplanes are now standardized and used in squadrons, organized defenses must be planned. In this way your paper conforms to the type earlier described asA>A';B>B';OC', etc. Suppose that your subject is : The Influence of Journalism on the Modern Short Story. Here you have Journalism as the comprehensive cause of a group of effects which must be analyzed before you can proceed to your outline. So you begin with the effects: I. The short story has become shorter because the news- paper has accustomed people to scrappy reading. II. The narrative-descriptive method has been replaced by the dramatic because the newspaper has developed the habit of quick shift of attention, and this is best met by dramatic presentation. III. The short story is expressed in the idiom and slang of the moment because newspapers crowd out other reading and make other language unfamiliar. This partial development shows the method of approach by beginning with each effect and relating it at once to its cause. Finally, we may analyze a subject so as to look backward to its causes and forward to its effects. Suppose that you are asked to write on: Apartment Life. Immediately you would ask yourself two questions : Why do people live in apartments? What effect does this life have on them? They live in apartments because . . . ; and the life has such-and-such . . . effects on them. Fill out the outline according to the following plan: I. People live in apartments because 1. 2. 3. (Use as many subheads as you need.) 212 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH II. The effects of apartment life upon them are 1. 2. 3. (Express your subheads in sentence form, and use as many subheads as you can think of effects.) In this case you had a group of causes followed by a group of effects; the reversal of the order for purposes of climax or for any other reason would not affect the fundamental type of arrangement. In the next case, you will have a series of strands of thought each consisting of a single cause and effect : The Advantages and Disadvantages of the Telephone: I. The Telephone is an advantage because it saves much time; it is a disadvantage because it distracts the attention from the work in hand. II. It is an advantage because it saves much energy; it is a disadvantage because it avoids the necessity of exercise. III. It is an advantage because it enables one to make a suddenly-needed purchase without delay; it is a disadvantage because it leaves one at the mercy of the tradespeople. It is of course possible to group all the advantages together, and then all the disadvantages; but even so, what we have is a group of strands, each consisting of one cause and one effect. ASSIGNMENT 1. Finish all the outlines suggested in this section. Wherever you can, group your heads and subheads in more than one way, and decide which way is most effective. 2. Discuss from notes made beforehand the nature and best methods of treating the following subjects: (1) The Effects of the Automobile on Character (2) The Effects of an Open Fire on Character (3) Why Food Prices Should be Regulated by Government in War (4) The Place of the Kindergarten in the School System (5) The Place of Machinery in Civilization (6) The Influence of Shakespeare on the Stage To-day (7) Why Musical Comedy Succeeds EXPOSITION 213 (8) The Influence of Moving Pictures on the Regular Drama (9) The Relation of H. G. Wells to his Times (10) Free Verse 3. After the best ways of outlining all these subjects have been discussed, choose the subject which appeals to you most strongly and write a paper of about 500 words on it, developing it entirely by cause and effect. Be sure that your outline is absolutely satis- factory before you begin. If necessary, have the outline passed upon by a competent critic, in class or out of class. 8. CHARACTER DRAWING Character drawing is expository in its purpose; but its methods are usually those of narration and description. The only character that we know directly is our own. In regard to all other persons we reason from outward signs personal appearance, expression, manner, gesture, dress, environment, actions particular or habitual speech, voice, and -the effect produced upon other persons, which mani- fests itself in speech and behavior to and in regard to them. We can never be sure that we are entirely right as to a character; and the probability is that we are more often mistaken than not in matters of detail. But the more we practice observation of the ways in which traits of character manifest themselves in ourselves, and the more we compare similar manifestations as they appear in other people, the nearer shall we come to a firm basis for our judgments. In studying the character of a real person, or of a person in a story or play, we reason and draw conclusions from out- ward signs; but in presenting a character we assume that the results of our reasoning process are correct, and our methods are expository. Now we may interpret a character by presenting directly the sum of our observations and reasoning, thus: He is a slow, honest, persistent sort of man. This is bare, direct exposition of qualities, useful in practical 214 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH life, but of little value in writing unless it is combined with other methods. The simplest combination is to add exemplification. Thus you may use narration and description together, with per- haps quotation also, in three anecdotes telling how your subject spent five minutes brushing his hat; how he once went out of his way to rectify a mistake in change in his favor; and how he trained a refractory horse. In these anecdotes, you may combine the direct method with the indirect by mentioning the qualities that the stories illustrate; or you may keep the method wholly indirect by letting your reader infer the qualities from the illustrations. Unless a very subtle characterization is to be made, the in- direct method is usually preferable, because the passage as then consisting entirely of narration and description can be made more vivid and more dynamic than if explanatory comments are inserted at intervals. When the purely indirect method is used, it is nothing more than an application of the methods of narration and description to the details associated with a person, a group of persons as a family, a nation, a race, etc.; a place, or even an individual object associated with a place that is, a city, or a house in that city; a house, or a room in that house; a landscape, or a particular animal, or stream, or tree; and to the representations of all these things in art. The attempt is sometimes made also to interpret music; but as yet we have not developed language to such a point that it will achieve this. All that we succeed in doing is to describe what we seem to see when we are listening to a piece of music. This is not in any proper sense interpretation. The methods of narration and description are found in combination, exactly as when no expository purpose underlies their use. When they are used in developing exposition, the two points to bear in mind are : EXPOSITION 215 1. The great range and variety of the outward signs of character 2. The degrees of indirectness with which character can be explained In the following, Sadie is characterized by her manner in waiting on customers, by her ideals of pleasure, and by her language in voicing them: One afternoon at six, when Dulcie was sticking her hatpin within an eighth of an inch of her medulla oblongata, she said to her chum, Sadie the girl that waits on you with her left side: "Say, Sade, I made a date for dinner this evening with Piggy." "You never did!" exclaimed Sadie admiringly. "Well, ain't you the lucky one? Piggy's an awful swell; and he always takes a girl to swell places. He took Blanche up to the Hoffman House one evening, where they have swell music and you see a lot of swells. You'll have a swell time, Dulcie." 0. Henry. In the next quotation Piggy is characterized by direct methods, including a metaphor and a pun; by his habits, his clothes, and his effect upon certain other people, who are in turn characterized by their occupation as the lowest of the low: Piggy needs but a word. When the girls named him, an unde- serving stigma was cast upon the noble family of swine. The words-of- three-letters lesson in the old blue spelling book begins with Piggy's biography. He was fat; he had the soul of a rat, the habits of a bat, the magnanimity of a cat. . . . He wore expensive clothes, and was a connoisseur in starvation. He could look at a shop-girl and tell you to an hour how long it had been since she had eaten anything more nourishing than marshmallows and tea. He hung about the shopping districts, and prowled around in de- partment stores with his invitations to dinner. Men who escort dogs upon the streets at the end of a string look down upon him. He is a type; I can dwell upon him no longer: my pen is not the kind intended for him. I am no carpenter. 0. Henry. In the next quotation the characterization of a group is done by a description of photographs : 216 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH ... he drew the family photographs from under his pillow, and handed them over: the little witch-grandmother, with a face like a withered walnut, the father, a fine broken-looking old boy with a Roman nose and a weak chin, the mother in crape, simple, serious and provincial, the little sister ditto, and Alain, the young brother ... an over-grown thread-paper boy with too much forehead and eyes, and not a muscle in bis body. A charming- looking family, distinguished and amiable; but all, except the grandmother, rather usual. The kind of people who come in sets. Edith Wharton. In the next, a woman is characterized partly by her en- vironment, but chiefly by her effect upon the speaker: " She sat by the fire in a bare panelled bedroom, bolt upright in an armchair with ears, a knitting-table at her elbow with a shaded candle on it. She was even more withered and ancient than she looked in her photograph, and I judge she's never been pretty; but she somehow made me feel as if I'd got through with prettiness. I don't know exactly what she reminded me of: a dried bouquet, or something rich and clovy that had turned brittle through long keeping in a sandal-wood box. I suppose her sandal-wood box had been Good Society. Well, I had a rare evening with her." Edith Wharton. In the next, a man is characterized by his actions and his effect upon other people, as described by his widow: "You know how Tobin would let his fist right out at anybody that undertook to sass him. Town-meetin' days, if he got disap- pointed about the way things went, he'd lay 'em out in win'rows; and ef he hadn't been a church member he'd been a real fightin' character. I was always 'fraid to have him roused, for all he was so willin' and meechin' to home, and set round clever as anybody. My Susan Ellen used to boss him same's the kitten, when she was four year old." Sarah Orne Jewett. In the next, a young man is characterized by the actions of other people, who, incidentally, characterize themselves at the same time: He had a bad hour of it; but he held his own, keeping silent while they screamed, and stiffening as they began to wobble from ex- haustion. Finally he took his mother apart, and tried to reason EXPOSITION 217 with her. His arguments were not much use, but his resolution impressed her, and he saw it. As for his father, nobody was afraid of Monsieur de R6champ. When he said: "Never never while I live, and there is a roof on Re*champ," they all knew he had col- lapsed inside. But the grandmother was terrible. She was terrible because she was so old, and so clever at taking advantage of it. She could bring on a valvular heart-attack by just sitting still and holding her breath, as Jean and his mother had long since found out; and she always treated them to one when things weren't going as she liked. Edith Wharton. In the next, three women are characterized by the way they looked and acted upon hearing something that shocked them : A shudder ran around the room. Mrs. Leveret coughed so that the parlor-maid, who was handing the cigarettes, should not hear; Miss Van Vluyck's face took on a nauseated expression, and Mrs. Plinth looked as if she were passing some one she did not care to bow to. Edith Wharton. The interpretation of the spirit of a place or of a work of art is often perhaps more valuable as a revelation of the writer's personality than as a final explanation of the thing itself. For instance, Mr. H. G. Wells interprets the statue of Liberty in New York harbor thus : One gets a measure of the quality of this force of mechanical, of inhuman, growth as one marks the great statue of Liberty on our larboard, which is meant to dominate the scene. It gets to three hundred feet about, by standing on a pedestal of a hundred and fifty; and the uplifted torch, seen against the sky, suggests an arm straining upward, straining in hopeless competition with the fierce commercial altitudes ahead. Poor liberating lady of the American ideal. One passes her and forgets. Whatever we think of the art of this statue, it is not likely that many of us have consciously interpreted its smallness as seen over against the sky-scrapers behind it, in this way. In writing interpretations of this kind, it is important not to let personality run away with fact; in other words, to see that there is a real foundation in the facts themselves to warrant the meaning based upon them. In the following 218 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH exposition of spring, you will see that the author merely hints at the emotions communicated by certain lights, scents, and sounds; he keeps very close to his observations of Nature: A soft sound of water moving among thousands of grass-blades to the hearing it is as the sweetness of spring air to the scent. It is so faint and so diffused that the exact spot whence it issues cannot be discerned, yet it is distinct, and my footsteps are slower as I listen. Yonder, in the corners of the mead, the atmosphere is full of some ethereal vapor. The sunshine stays in the air there, as if the green hedges held the wind from brushing it away. Low and plaintive come the notes of a lapwing; the same notes, but tender with love. Richard Jefferies. In the exposition of a work of art it is highly important to base your impression of what the artist is trying to say upon close observation of what he has actually put into his painting or statue. He may try to tell a story, or to ex- press character, or the spirit of a place, or the physical beauty of line, color, atmosphere, or a spiritual beauty scarcely translatable into words. Whatever it is, there is only one way of understanding it, and that is through its visible signs. As a very simple exercise in this kind of interpretation, let us consider the meaning from outward signs of the picture by Holbein on the opposite page. To study it, regard it not as a work of art, but as if it were a reflection in a looking-glass; and answer the following ques- tions : 1. What information does the picture give about the subject? the artist? the date? 2. Is the subject of the portrait rich or poor? has he ever done manual work? does he buy and sell? Note the evidence. 3. Of what materials are his clothes made? How many rings has he? What do you observe about them? 4. Where is he sitting? How is the room constructed? What articles of furniture and other equipment do you see? 5. What information about letters and letter-writing does the picture give? Be sure that you note every detail. 6. What can you tell about the books? GEORGE GISZE Portrait bv Holbein EXPOSITION 219 7. What do you observe about the coins? 8. What does the table cover suggest about European trade at the time the picture was painted? 9. What are the flowers in the vase? 10. Do you see anything else in the picture that calls for com- ment? Now sum up your notes under two heads: 1. The details that suggest the life and character of the subject 2. The details that give information as to the artist's methods and skill With these notes you can explain both the character of the man portrayed and the skill with which the artist has ev- idently portrayed him. The two subjects are quite distinct. This method of exposition can be applied to any work of art; but the more subtle the subject and the more distinctive the technique, the more difficult it is to keep your exposition grounded upon material facts the more difficult and the more important. The sane and luminous exposition of works of art is one of the most difficult forms of writing. Here we have barely touched upon the most elementary aspect of it. ASSIGNMENT 1. Sum up in direct statements your understanding of the character interpreted in the following passages; and note all the methods of exposition used. Then try to find other examples of these same methods from stories mentioned on pp. 157, 316 of this book: "Dulcie hurried homeward. Her eyes were shining, and her cheeks showed the delicate pink of life's real life's approaching dawn. It was Friday; and she had fifty cents left of her last week's "Dulcie stopped in a store where goods were cheap and bought an imitation lace collar with her fifty cents. That money was to have been spent otherwise fifteen cents for supper, ten cents for breakfast, ten cents for lunch. Another dime was to be added to her small store of savings; and five cents was to be squandered for licorice drops the kind that make your cheek look like the 220 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH toothache, and last as long. The licorice was an extravagance almost a carouse but what is life without pleasures? "Dulcie had a furnished room. There is this difference between a furnished room and a boarding-house. In a furnished room, other people do not know it when you go hungry. "On the dresser .were her treasures a gilt china vase presented to her by Sadie, a calendar issued by pickle works, a book on the divination of dreams, some rice powder in a glass dish, and a cluster of artificial cherries tied with a pink ribbon. "Against the wrinkly mirror stood pictures of General Kitchener, William Muldoon, the Duchess of Marlborough, and Benvenuto Cellini. Against one wall was a plaster of Paris plaque of an O'Cal- lahan in a Roman helmet. Near it was a violent oleograph of a lemon-colored child assaulting an inflammatory butterfly. . . . "At ten minutes to seven Dulcie was ready. She looked at her- self in the wrinkly mirror. The reflection was satisfactory. The dark blue dress, fitting without a wrinkle, the hat with its jaunty black feather, the but-slightly-soiled gloves all representing self- denial, even of food itself were vastly becoming. "Dulcie turned to the dresser to get her handkerchief; and then she stopped still, and bit her underlip hard. While looking in her mirror she had seen fairyland and herself a princess, just awakening from a long slumber. She had forgotten one that was watching her with sad, beautiful, stern eyes the only one there was to ap- prove or condemn what she did. Straight and slender and tall, with a look of reproach on his handsome, melancholy face, General Kitchener fixed his wonderful eyes on her out of his gilt photograph frame on the dresser. "Dulcie turned like an automatic doll to the landlady. "'Tell him I can't go,' she said dully. 'Tell him I'm sick, or something. Tell him I'm not going out.' "After the door was closed and locked, Dulcie fell upon her bed, crushing her black tip, and cried for ten minutes. General Kit- chener was her only friend. He was Dulcie's ideal of a gallant knight. He looked as if he might have a secret sorrow, and his wonderful moustache was a dream, and she was a little afraid of that stern yet tender look in his eyes. She used to have little fancies that he would call at the house sometime, and ask for her, with his sword clanking against his high boots. Once, when a boy was rat- tling a piece of chain against a lamp-post, she had opened the window and looked out. But there was no use. She knew that General Kitchener was away over in Japan, leading his army against the savage Turks; and he would never step out of his gilt frame for her. Yet one look from him had vanquished Piggy for that night. Yes, for that night. " When her cry was over Dulcie got up and took off her best dress, and put on her old blue kimono. She wanted no dinner. She sang EXPOSITION 221 two verses of 'Sammy.' Then she became intensely interested in a little bad speck on the side of her nose. And after that was attended to, she drew up a chair to the rickety table, and told her fortune with an old deck of cards. "'The horrid, impudent thing,'" she said aloud. 'And I never gave him a word or a look to make him think it.' "At nine o'clock Dulcie took a tin box of crackers and a little pot of raspberry jam out of her trunk, and had a feast. She offered General Kitchener some jam on a cracker; but he only looked at her as the sphinx would have looked at a butterfly if there are butterflies in the desert. '"Don't eat it if you don't want to,' said Dulcie. 'And don't put on so many airs and scold so with your eyes. I wonder if you'd be so superior and snippy if you had to live on six dollars a week.' " 0. Henry. 2. Write a group of brief character studies (about 100 words each), on the basis of (1) clothes; (2) shoes; (3) neckties; (4) hats; (5) pictures in a room; (6) books owned; (7) an automobile; (8) hands; (9) voice; (10) some habit. 3. Write a 300-word exposition of some place a town, a house, a bit of nature very familiar to you. 4. Write in 100 words each expositions of (1) the Gisze picture; (2) Holbein's art in it. 5. Repeat the exercise with some picture of your own choosing. CHAPTER XII ARGUMENT 1. EVIDENCE ARGUMENT is the process by which we arrive at truth, and persuade others to believe and to act upon it. It be- gins with the accumulation and testing of facts, and proceeds by the application of reason to these facts in order to draw inferences as to their relationships and meaning. Both facts and inferences must be narrowly scrutinized at every step, as a single error of fact or a single incorrect inference may shake the entire argument. In this way we argue to convince ourselves and others. When we further add an appeal to the emotions of men, our process is extended beyond conviction to persuasion, which has special methods of its own. Every argument is based upon an assertion in technical language, a proposition of which the subject and the pred- icate are called the terms. No argument can be based upon a single term. You cannot argue "democracy"; you can argue: "Democracy is a success"; or "Democracy is a fail- ure." We use argument in several different ways. By the methods of conviction alone we endeavor to establish truth: this truth may be a matter of fact, or the working of some law or principle in Nature or in human life or society. By the methods of conviction and persuasion together we try to make other people believe and act in accordance with the results reached by the argument. As argument is always based upon a proposition, there are 222 ARGUMENT 223 always two sides to be considered: the side that affirms the truth of the proposition, and the side that denies it. Where all the facts are admittedly on one side, there can be no argument; where they are evenly balanced, no conclusion. In most arguments the conclusion is based upon a prepon- derance of the evidence on one side or the other. Truth is discovered by gradual approximations, ranging from possibil- ity, through varying degrees of probability, to certainty. The number of conclusions which are now regarded as cer- tain is still extremely limited. What one age thinks it has proved, the next disproves altogether or in part. Usually, however, there is a residuum of truth after the false has been removed, and this forms the basis for a new line of argument. Before you can argue about any proposition, you must make up your mind whether it is true or false. To do this you must collect and test the evidence. All evidence is either direct, or as it is sometimes called, testimonial based upon the statements of witnesses; or indirect derived by inference from circumstances or environment. In both kinds of ev- idence there are many possibilities of error. Direct evidence is obtained from the observations of wit- nesses. But suppose the witnesses disagree? Suppose sev- eral people say that they saw Smith shoot Jones; and several say that they saw Jones shoot himself although Smith tried to prevent him. How can you get the facts? There are four tests that can be applied to the statements of these wit- nesses by which the relative values of their testimonies will appear: 1. Is this witness a competent observer? 2. Is he known to be generally truthful? 3. Is his judgment unbiased by personal feeling? 4. Is his testimony for or against his own interest? If, for instance, one of the witnesses is an old man who can scarcely see, his testimony is almost worthless; if another is a loafer who would do anything for the price of a drink, his 224 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH testimony is seriously impaired by that fact; if a third is Jones's friend and Smith's enemy, the fact will have to be taken into account; if the fourth, who is Smith's enemy and has vowed to get even with him for an old grudge, testifies that he saw Jones shoot himself while Smith was trying to get the revolver from him, his testimony will outweigh that of many others, because he is testifying against his will and his own interests. So it is that the most rigid scrutiny of testimony must be made before it can be accepted as fact. The possibilities of distortion of the truth through error of observation, through the effect of emotion or prejudice, and through motives of self-interest, are even with the utmost care scarcely to be eliminated. Indirect evidence is subject to all the error involved in the testimony of witnesses, inasmuch as it also presents facts subject to personal interpretation; and it involves further errors in the formation of hypotheses to fit the facts. The danger is always that more than one hypothesis will fit the same set of circumstances almost equally well. Many an innocent man has been convicted of crime on the basis of a combination of circumstances which time showed to be ex- plicable on quite another hypothesis. A thumb print is enough to convict a murderer, because no two people have thumbs that make exactly the same prints; but there is per- haps no other form of circumstantial evidence that is in itself entirely convincing. As a rule, the value of circum- stantial evidence is cumulative: a single detail may leave room for many hypotheses; but every detail added narrows the number of hypotheses, until enough details may be found to permit only one hypothesis to fit the case. If, for example, a murderer has lost a button from his coat and has dropped a gray glove, and if a man is found who has lost such a button and such a glove, there is evidence enough for arresting him; yet the button may be of a type worn by many men, and it is ARGUMENT 225 conceivable that two men might have lost a glove of the same size and color at about the same time and in the same town. If, however, the arrested man has blood-stains on his clothes and articles that belonged to the murdered man in his possession, there will be little doubt of his guilt. And yet, his story of a cut finger, and of finding or buying the victim's jewelry, however improbable, may be true. The facts will be against him the more so if he is a bad character and had an obvious motive for committing the crime; but there is still room for other hypotheses, and until all these have been eliminated, the man should not be convicted. If direct and indirect evidence agree, the proof becomes very strong; if they contradict each other, the one that leaves most residuum of fact after both have been tested by every available means, will outweigh the other; but the conclusion will none the less be weakened by their contradiction, and there will be the chance that fresh evidence of either kind might turn the scale. ASSIGNMENT 1. Discuss the value of the following witnesses: (1) A discharged employee (a) for, and (b) against the company for which he had worked (2) A mother in regard to details of her son's injury in a street accident; a surgeon on the same case; a policeman; a bystander (3) A child of eight on the details of a crime (4) A lunatic (a) incriminating himself in a charge of arson; (b) against the superintendent, claiming mistreatment (5) A relative, as against a handwriting expert, in a case of forgery (6) An accomplice in a crime (7) A naval officer against an inventor who has devised an instrument for detecting submarines (8) An inventor on the device of a rival (9) A person in delirium (10) A wife against her husband; a divorced wife against her former husband 2. Discuss the value of the following as circumstantial evidence: 226 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (1) an article of clothing found on the spot; (2) footprints; (3) fingerprints; (4) failure to produce an alibi; (5) the behavior of an accused person. 3. Invent, or find, and discuss a case of crime in which circum- stantial evidence seems conclusive. Then try to show that it is not. 4. Examine the testimony of various witnesses in a trial reported recently in the newspapers, and suggest reason* which determine the value of the testimony of each. 5. Write a summary of the evidence on each side in some trial that has recently attracted attention, together with a statement of the decision reached. State whether or not you agree with this decision, on the basis of the evidence offered; if you do not agree, give your reasons for your different opinion. These papers should be discussed in class. 6. Imagine yourself lawyer for the defense in the following case in which the evidence is all circumstantial. The man's character is excellent, and his mother is convinced of his innocence. On the night of the murder, he had been out shooting. He arrived home late, without his gun, his clothes torn, and his face and hands bleeding; he was breathless and excited. His story was that he had lain down to rest, had fallen asleep, and when he awakened, had missed his gun. As he rushed headlong after the thief, he had stumbled into a barbed wire fence and fallen; the wire and a piece of broken crockery on the rough ground had torn his clothes and injured him. The murdered man was found not far away in an abandoned brickyard by the owner of the brickyard at eleven o'clock at night. He had been shot with the missing gun, which lay near him. Is the evidence convincing? How should you proceed to test it? 2. AUTHORITY If the determination of facts in regard to contemporary events and conditions is difficult because of the many sorts of error that creep into first-hand evidence, and the many hypotheses that fit a particular set of observed circumstances, much more difficult is it to get at the truth in regard to events and conditions from which we are far removed. Here the indirect evidence, in proportion as it is fragmentary, leaves more room for wrong hypotheses, and the direct evidence, ARGUMENT 227 which we sum up in the term authority, is more often second- hand or even thirdhand than the testimony of one in a posi- tion to know the full truth and unbiased to tell the exact truth. Consequently, we must use all the methods of testing used in a legal process to-day, and add others to meet the special difficulties. To get an idea of the causes of error and the need of critical methods in dealing with reports of remote events, let us first examine a very familiar legend. The famous story of William Tell, who to prove his marks- manship first shot an apple from his son's head, and after- ward shot Gessler, the oppressor of his country, has been until recent times generally accepted. There are memorial coins and charters that pretend to date from the fourteenth century; the name of Tell occurs in the register of the canton of Uri; the place where the shooting test was held is still pointed out, and a chapel on Lake Lucerne is said to have been built on the spot where Tell landed when he escaped from the tyrant. If all this evidence bears testing, it forms a fairly substantial basis for believing the story. But the first mention of Tell occurs in the White Book, a chronicle written one hundred and fifty years after the sup- posed events. This long silence is not conclusive, but it is significant. Should you incline to believe a story of the Revolutionary War first published now? Further, examina- tion of the coins and charters shows that they are forged; examination of the Register of Uri shows that the name Tell has been altered from Nail; the Austrians never were op- pressors of Uri; there never was an Austrian governor named Gessler, and no Gessler was ever governor of a Swiss canton. On the other hand, a very similar story told of other per- sons appears in the twelfth century history of the Dane, Saxo Grammaticus, which was then popular throughout Europe. This story, it seems, was first incorporated in the White Book, and then evidence was manufactured to support it. 228 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH On examination, then, it appears that there is no good authority for the truth of the Tell story, that the only authorities have been fabricated out of a well-known source of fiction. So in every argument to establish fact, in connection with history, biography, and the historical aspects of the sciences, no progress can be made until the documentary evidence has been thoroughly tested. In doing this, four questions must be answered satisfactorily: 1. Is the document genuine? 2. Precisely what does it mean? 3. Did the writer know the facts? 4. Did he tell the truth? If a document is self-contradictory, or if it conflicts with other documents known to be genuine, or if its evidence runs counter to human experience, its genuineness is open to ques- tion and must be established by a separate analysis and argument before it can be used as authority. If its authentic- ity cannot for lack of evidence be established, it must be re- jected, or quoted with full admission of its doubtful value: no appreciable weight of the argument must be allowed to depend upon it. The meaning of a document can be established with cer- tainty only upon the basis of a thorough knowledge of the language it uses, and of the nature and relationships of the persons or things of which it treats. To discover whether the writer was in a position to know the facts, it is necessary to study the circumstances of his life and his relationship to the matter about which he writes. If he is not contemporary, his work must be referred to its contemporary sources, and these must undergo the testing. If he is contemporary, we must ask whether he knew the truth at firsthand, or had access to those who did, or whether he lived far from the things that he relates, and writes merely from hearsay. ARGUMENT 229 But even if he is shown to have had every opportunity to know the facts, it does not follow that he is telling the truth. We must examine his work until we know whether in general he is truthful; we must look for information as to his char- acter among his contemporaries; we must consider whether from the circumstances of his life, he writes with a bias. If Cromwell had written a history of the Civil War of 1642 in England, he would have presented it from a very different angle from the History of the Great Rebellion by the Earl of Clarendon, who was a Stuart partisan. Religious and political prejudices, personal relationships and tastes, affect vitally the work of a man even when he hon- estly aims to tell the truth. It is said that influences of this nature make it necessary to investigate and rewrite almost the whole history of the early years of our own government. All such tests must be carried out with extreme care, and minor arguments introduced whenever there is reason to doubt a single fact used to support the major argument. It is because in the past too much has been taken for granted that we continually find so-called historical facts which rest upon no more secure foundation than a surmise. Until we have learned never to build upon anything less than estab- lished fact, we shall never feel secure in our knowledge of history. Hypotheses are useful as long as they are clearly understood to be hypotheses; the danger is that in time they come to be regarded as facts. In addition to direct testimony as to matters t>f history, we have all sorts of indirect or circumstantial evidence, the value of which is increasingly recognized. It includes not merely such things as coins, medals, inscriptions, coats-of- arms, monuments, etc., but dress, ornaments, weapons, household furniture, dwellings, and the traces of events upon physical things, such as the signs of battle, or bombardment, or engineering. If all these things are subjected to the 230 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH most rigid scrutiny, they contribute enormously to the estab- lished facts of the past. In collecting material, then, to form the basis of historical argument, remember that opinion is not fact: a thing is not true because you think it is; and authority is not fact: a thing is not true because it is in print. Any witness may be mis- taken, or he may be misrepresenting. Fact is the residuum after all possible tests have been applied. Although you are not now in a position to do elaborate testing of facts, you cannot begin too soon to acquire the habit of questioning the truth of any unsupported statement of being ready to challenge authority as authority, and to investigate everything that poses as fact without bearing proper credentials. Your procedure should be as follows. Begin with the standard compilations of fact in the reference books of best reputation, and from these work back to the original sources, always bearing in mind the principles for testing suggested in this section, and applying them as far as you can. If you find a decided difference of opinion among authorities, you must consider very carefully the claims of the minority as over against the majority. If, for example, a single authority of recognized high value, differs from all who have preceded him, it is not without good reason; you must look with special care to see whether his presentation of the case is well supported. If he is the latest authority, he may have had access to information unknown to his predecessors. And the more widely divergent the opinions are, the more you will hesitate before deciding which is right. In preparing arguments upon current topics problems in politics, economics, or current events the same care must be used to distinguish between facts, on the one hand, and opinions, conjectures, representations, on the other. Here the difficulty is even greater than with historical arguments, partly because the subjects themselves are so enormously ARGUMENT 231 complex, and so largely a matter of principle or theory that has not been tested by time, and partly because the com- mon sources of information, newspapers and magazines, are always biased and full of error. To counteract this bias, and to eliminate these errors, it is necessary to gather material from sources representing as many points of view as possible, checking one against another; in the course of establishing a balance of fact among opposing views, many errors will be eliminated. It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of sifting out facts in this kind of argument. The chief reason why so little headway has been made in settling many of these vital problems is the inability or the unwillingness of the opposing parties to get down to bare facts. This is not the place to discuss the kind of argument used in the establishment of scientific fact; but one point may be noted. The scientific method involves the same kind of close analysis, of narrow observation, that we discussed in connection with history; and it adds the testing of theory by means of experiment. In every branch of knowledge the fundamental principle in regard to the separation of facts from non-facts, and the accumulation of facts as evidence from which by the processes of reasoning we may draw inferences, is essentially the same: the principle of looking beneath every statement for the facts that support it, and beneath each of these assumed facts for the facts that support it, until facts are reached which are universally admitted to be true. The following practical suggestions may be helpful: 1. Note only one fact on a card; and on the same card give all the authorities that you find in support of it. 2. Keep all these fact cards together with an elastic band, or in the same index box. 3. Put each statement of doubtful authority on a separate card, together with such authority as it has; and keep these cards together in a separate place. 232 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 4. As you find upon further investigation that these doubt- ful facts either gain or lose authority, deal with them accord- ingly : either transfer them when you regard them as estab- lished to the fact group, or throw them out. 5. If when you are ready to write your argument, you still have a group of facts the value of which you have been un- able to determine, either do not use them at all, or use them in footnotes, with the plainest sort of assertion as to their doubtful character. 1 ASSIGNMENT 1. Read the life of Shakespeare in the Dictionary of National Biography, or in the best life available, and write on cards six facts with the authority upon which they depend. Discuss these in class. 2. Using the same sources, determine whether or not the following statements are facts; give the authority upon which each depends, and show that it is or is not good: (1) He played before Queen Elizabeth. (2) He was a mediocre actor. (3) He held horses for noblemen outside the theater door, and organized a company of horse boys. (4) He planted a mulberry tree in his Stratford garden. (5) He knew the Earl of Southampton. 3. If a Parish Register contains an entry of a man's death in 1675, and a biography of that man quotes a document with signa- ture dated 1679, how will you reconcile the discrepancy or get at the facts? How many possibilities are there? Which is most likely? 4. Is a newspaper authority for a fact of current history? What do you consider sufficient authority for such a fact? 5. How can you test newspaper information about politics? 1 Among useful works of reference in getting material for argument are the following: the States-mans Year Book, the New York Times Index and New York Times Current History, the World Almanac, the Daily News Al- manac (Chicago), Whitaker's Almanac, the Journal of Political Economy (University of Chicago), the English Who's Who, and Who's Who in America, the Encyclopaedia Brilannica (llth edition), the Dictionary of National Biography, Appleton's Cyclopaedia of National Biography; and the indexes to periodical literature (Poole's Index to 1900, the Reader's Guide since 1900, and the Annual Magazine Subject Index (1907, which includes since 1909 the Dramatic Index). ARGUMENT 233 6. How can you test technical information derived from a pop- ular magazine? 7. Collect on one set of cards all the facts you can on one of the following subjects; on other cards set down material which you regard as untrustworthy. In each case cite your authority on the same card with the assertion: (1) The Filipinos are capable of self-government. (2) (Insert the name of some much- advertised patent medicine) is a fraud. (3) Automobiles have improved the roads. (4) War increases idealism. 8. Discuss the value of the following authorities: (1) Magna Charta; Domesday Book; the Declaration of Inde- pendence; the Hague Conventions; any deed of sale of land; a will; a marriage certificate; the files of a corporation; the Congressional Record. (2) Washington's Letters; Franklin's Autobiography; the Pas- ton Letters; Boswell's Life of Johnson; Luther's Table Talk; the histories of Herodotus and Thucydides; the Encyclopaedia Britann- ica; Carlyle's French Revolution; Macaulay's History of England; Taine's History of English Literature. 9. Look up the careers of the following persons and bring notes to class as a basis for discussing their authority in their respective fields: Thomas Huxley; Thomas Chrowder Chamberlin; Sir James Bryce; FJie Metchnikoff; Alexis Carrel; A. H. L. F. Pitt-Rivers; W. Flinders Petrie; Sir Oliver Lodge. 10. Discuss the value of the following sources of indirect evidence: (1) Botticelli's paintings for Italy in the 15th century. (2) Ornaments and implements of war dug up in a peat bog or swamp. (3) The results of excavating the Roman Forum. (4) The topography to-day of the battlefield of Bannockburn. (5) The architecture of the mediaeval town of Carcassonne as it looks to-day. 3. INDUCTIVE REASONING The first step in pursuing an inquiry into the truth of an assertion is the accumulation and testing of facts; the second is the drawing of correct inferences. But the two processes are so closely associated that only by stopping to analyze 234 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the results that they work together to give do we come to realize the difference between fact and inference. In the building up of argument, sound inference is as useful struc- turally as verified fact, and it is not important to distinguish between them. But it is all-important to learn how to draw inferences so that they shall always be sound. An error in inference destroys the validity of an argument as thoroughly as an error in fact. Inferences are drawn from facts by the two processes of reasoning. Inductive reasoning proceeds from the particular to the general, and deductive reasoning from the general to the particular. The two processes commonly supplement each other in argument. Inductive reasoning begins with the observation of par- ticular facts. Suppose that a group of men at the Club are talking of their sons. One says: "Bill has improved in every way since he went in for military training." Another: "So has Tom." Another: "And Jack." Another: "And Jim." Another: "And Harry." Every man present, who has a son that has gone in for military training, makes a similar statement; and every man present draws the same conclu- sion: Boys improve in every way when they go in for military training. In other words, we have a number of cases observed under similar conditions, in which a relationship is maintained. It may be, as here, a cause and effect: Cause: Military training Effect: Improvement in boys In cases 1, 2, 3, n, military training improves boys; therefore it will improve all boys. Or the relationship may be simply of identity: Fact 1. This leaf (oak) is green 2. This leaf (beech) is green 3. This leaf (pine) is green ARGUMENT 235 4. This leaf (geranium) is green n. This leaf (x, y) is green Do these facts justify the conclusion? "All leaves are green." In this kind of reasoning from the particular case to the generalization that covers all similar cases, there are two possible sources of error: 1. Wrong observation of a particular case. Bill has im- proved in every way; but Tom, without his father's knowl- edge, has become a gambler. Jack has improved in every way; but Jim has overtaxed his strength, and is, although his father does not know it, on the sick list. 2. The use of too few facts to warrant the generalization. Five boys may have improved under military training; but how about the next five? How many cases must be observed before it is safe to draw the conclusion that military training is beneficial? And again, we may observe the leaves of five hundred trees and plants before we find out that the leaf of a copper beech is not green. But as soon as we do observe it, this single fact invalidates our general conclusion. It is not true that all leaves are green, although it is true that most leaves are. Nor is it true that all boys are improved in every way by military training, although it may be true that most boys are improved. In the use of inductive reasoning, then, you must take great care (1) to scrutinize each fact upon which your conclusion depends; and (2) to avoid hasty generalization. Aside from the laws of science which the experience of the race has found to be invariable, and which are assumed to be invariable, there are few generalizations without exception. But the great value of inductive reasoning is that it trains the mind both to recognize when generalization is valid, and to beware of the generalization which is only partly true as a basis for argument. The special technique of scientific reasoning, which has been developed to guard against the dangers of 236 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the simple inductive method and to supply its deficiencies, you will best learn later in connection with special problems in your study of one of the sciences. ASSIGNMENT 1. Show that each of the following generalizations is or is not entirely true: (1) All living things grow. (2) Every misfortune benefits somebody. (3) All ambitious men are selfish. (4) All peacocks have gaudy plumage. (5) Birds of a feather flock together. (6) All women hate snakes. (7) All superfluity is a burden. (8) All snow is cold. (9) Ferns never blossom. (10) All clocks tick. 2. Point out the hasty and unwarranted generalizations among the following: (1) All Americans are energetic. (2) All Italians are dark. I never saw one that wasn't. (3) I never bought a pair of cheap gloves that were worth the money. (4) Little women always manage their big husbands. Look at the Smiths, the Browns, and the Robinsons. (5) Geniuses are always bad-tempered. (6) All light is associated with heat. (7) All green apples are sour. (8) All women who dress badly have bad taste. (9) All cats have tails. (10) Tyrants always come to a bad end. Look at Louis XV and Charles I. 3. Discuss the possibility of making accurate generalizations on the following points: (1) The occupations of Hungarians in the United States. (2) The markings of tigers' skins. (3) The shape of torpedoes. (4) The untidiness of American cities. (5) The success of college graduates. 4. Under the headings facts and conclusion, outline the process ARGUMENT 237 of inductive reasoning that begins with each of the following ob- servations. Which lead to satisfactory conclusions? (1) The lions in Central Park eat meat. (2) The turtle in our pond can swim. (3) Our baby cries when she is hungry. (4) I burned my finger in the fire. (5) The geranium in the north window did not blossom. (6) That brown-spotted apple is rotten. (7) The Eskimo I saw yesterday had straight hair. (8) A crowded car passed by without stopping. (9) It looks like rain to-day. (10) My dollar pair of gloves proved worthless. 4. DEDUCTIVE REASONING Deductive reasoning proceeds from the general to the par- ticular. It begins where inductive reasoning leaves off, that is, with a generalization, and applies this to a particular case. If it is true that all boys are improved by military training, then Frank, who is a boy, will be improved by military training. In deductive reasoning there are three stages : 1. The generalization, which is called the major premise. 2. The particular statement, which is called the minor premise. 3. The inference from the two premises, which is called the conclusion. The entire process of reasoning is called a syllogism, and its form is this: 1. All substances that turn litmus paper red are acids. 2. This substance turns litmus paper red. 3. This substance is an acid. In the syllogism error comes in when 1. The major premise is not true; 2. The minor premise is not true; 3. The predicate of the minor premise is not contained in the subject of the major. 238 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The correctness of the major premise depends upon the correctness of the inductive reasoning upon which it is based. If there are non-acid substances that turn litmus paper red, the major premise is false as a result of hasty generalization. The correctness of the minor premise depends upon correct observation. If this substance does not actually redden litmus paper, or if there is another substance present with it to which the reddening may be due, the minor premise is either untrue or doubtful. The conclusion, you will note, contains the subject of the minor term and the predicate of the major. The syllogism may be expressed algebraically thus: A = B C = A /.C = B In algebraic language, the term A is common to both equa- tions; if A is eliminated, C = B. But A does not always equal B; the class A may be smaller than the class B. Thus we may make the major premise: All men are animals. But there are other animals besides men : A is included in B. Then if C is included in A, it must also be included in B, which includes all A and more. If, however, the class A is larger than B, the subject of the major premise becomes not all but some, thus: "All birds with red breasts are robins" is obviously un- true; humming birds, scarlet tanagers, and various other birds have red breasts. The following is therefore an in- correct syllogism: Some birds with red breasts are robins. This bird has a red breast. This bird is a robin. C is included in A, but, as A is greater than B, C may fall in that part of A which lies outside B. This is one of the commonest of the errors in reasoning. ARGUMENT 239 Another error, called " begging the question," is to assume in either premise the very thing that you are trying to prove. This fallacy, easily detected when reduced to a syllogism, is common in daily life. How often do we not hear a man or a cause judged because of certain acts and the next moment hear the character of the man or cause cited to prove the good or bad character of the acts. The com- monest form of this fallacy is the use of a term which really involves the point at issue: Women's Rights; Freedom of the Seas. When begging the question is pushed so far that each of two arguments is offered as proof of the other, the fallacy is called reasoning in a circle, thus: I. All the laws passed in our legislature this year are bad, because the legislature is notoriously incompetent. II. Our state legislature is thoroughly incompetent, as is shown by the bad laws passed this year. Many other fallacies in reasoning are classified by logicians, the discussion of which belongs to a course in argumentation. In the simple forms of reasoning which you will be required to undertake now, it is enough to remember the following hints : 1. Make sure that both premises are correct; that is, that they are not untrue, and that they are known to be true and do not beg the question. 2. In a series of two or more syllogisms, each of which uses the conclusion of the preceding as a premise, do not use the conclusion of the last as a premise of the first; that is, do not reason in a circle. 3. Stick to the point. When a prosecuting attorney, in- stead of dwelling upon the evidence against the prisoner, emphasizes in detail the enormity of the crime, he is talking off the point in order to secure conviction. 4. Do not change the meaning of a term. Make sure that there is no possible ambiguity in the meaning of the terms used. If you say that all charitable men love their fellows 240 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH as themselves, and then that a man who throws a penny to a beggar is charitable, you have changed the meaning of the word charitable, and so invalidated your conclusion; the man who throws a penny to a beggar does not love his fellows as himself. The chief value of the syllogism in argument is that by analyzing the process of thinking it shows clearly whether there is an error in the process and also whether the error is a matter of fact or of inference from facts. ASSIGNMENT 1. Express in syllogistic form the reasoning that underlies each of the following: (1) Mrs. Harrison is an intelligent woman. It is her duty to vote. (2) Farrell does not need an income tax schedule. His income is only twelve hundred a year and he is married. (3) You ought to enlist. You are twenty-one. (4) We shall have pork and beans for dinner. It is Saturday, and we are New Englanders. (5) She cannot get more than fourteen hundred a year. She is a Government stenographer. (6) This flower must be a shooting star. It agrees exactly with the description of that species in my botany. (7) We have so many trunks that we are sure to have trouble at the customs. (8) This news is too good to be true. (9) That must be a Manx cat. It has no tail. (10) This is a very superficial book, as a careful reading of the table of contents will show. 2. Point out the fallacies in the following, and explain where the trouble lies: (1) This is a first-rate automobile; it was made by the Getrich Quick Company, and they turn out no other kind. (2) He must be an honorable man. He supports his mother and sisters. (3) He is thoroughly truthful. I have never caught him in a lie. (4) That bird is a canary. Don't you see how yellow it is? (5) Of course he is a musician. Look at his hair. ARGUMENT 241 (6) Government ownership of public utilities will lead to social- ism because it will mean ownership of public utilities by the people. (7) He is the most popular author in existence, for he is the most popular author in the United States, and in the United States people read more than in any other country in the world. (8) This is an interesting book, because it is by H. G. Wells. (9) Hicks will be a great orator; he reasons better than any other man in the class. (10) We shall win every game next year. We have a new coach. (11) That civilization is a disease is proved by the number of doctors found among the civilized nations. Compare the savage races in this respect. (12) That must be a robin. Look at his red breast. (13) You can tell by merely looking at him that he's a genius. (14) You ought to take music lessons. Your hands are so flexible. (15) He must be an old soldier. He has only one leg. (16) Of course he says "these sort of." Isn't he English? (17) Do you notice how his hand shakes? He must drink. (18) You must study Greek if you wish to be cultured. \ 5. INDUCTIVE AND DEDUCTIVE REASONING In argument, inductive and deductive reasoning are used continually to support each other. For instance, inductive reasoning establishes from many observations the general conclusion: All rattlesnakes are poisonous. You meet a snake which you take to be a rattlesnake, and in a flash you conclude that it will be poisonous; your thought process, of which you are unaware, is : All rattlesnakes are poisonous. This snake is a rattlesnake. This snake is poisonous. But how do you know that this snake is a rattlesnake? By another lightning-speed syllogism you reason: All snakes that make a certain peculiar sound are rattle- snakes. 242 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH This snake made that peculiar sound. This snake is a rattlesnake. But may not some harmless snakes make the same sound? Observation has shown that Snake No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, etc., which made that peculiar sound, all had the other qualities that distinguish the rattle- snake. Therefore we say, by inductive reasoning: All snakes that make that peculiar sound have the other qualities that distinguish rattlesnakes. The connection between the two processes is so close that unless we stop with the generalization based upon inductive reasoning, we are often scarcely aware that it stands between the particular cases in which we are interested. For instance, if our thoughts are put into words, the sound of a rattle will usually lead to : " There's a rattlesnake run ! " and we are not conscious of the whole process which has just been traced from particular to general and from general to particular again. But it is only by much practice in this kind of deliberate analysis that we learn to see errors in fact and inference fallacies due to faulty observation, hasty generalization, and wrong classification. ASSIGNMENT 1. Analyze the double process of reasoning involved in each of the following; and point out any fallacies that you discover: (1) This pear is very hard. I am afraid it is not ripe. (2) It will rain to-morrow. There's a mackerel sky. (3) I shall not study late the night before examination. I shall fail if I do. (4) I think that animal is a tapir. I read a description of one the other day. (5) This warm sunshine after rain will open the buds. (6) Washington must have loved country life or he wouldn't have built Mount Vernon. (7) This strike will fail. The men's families are starving. ARGUMENT 243 (8) Of course he's a grafter. You can see him hanging about the City Hall every day. (9) Yes, madam, this train stops at 60th Street. (10) Of course you will succeed, you have never failed yet. 2. Collect from a newspaper ten statements which involve both inductive and deductive reasoning; and analyze them to see whether they are sound or involve fallacies. If fallacies are involved, analyze them also. 3. Illustrate by as many examples as possible the statement: The heresy of to-day is the superstition of to-morrow. 4. What reasons do you suppose led Columbus to believe that there was a continent across the ocean? After noting your reasons on cards, look up the reasons that he offered, and the objections that were raised to them. Why did he have so much difficulty in making people accept his conclusion? G. ANALOGY Argument by analogy proceeds on the theory that things which are alike in some respects will be alike in others. It commonly begins by observing a familiar thing in some rela- tion, and upon observation of a resemblance between the familiar thing and something unknown proceeds to the con- clusion that the unknown thing also will have the same rela- tion as the known which it resembles. Thus the ancients observed that the living butterfly emerges from the appar- ently dead chrysalis, and reasoned by analogy that in like manner the living soul of man would emerge from his dead body. A most elaborate argument of this kind is a book which made a stir in the nineteenth century,' Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World. Clearly, natural law can never actually apply to spiritual things; but on the basis of a certain parallelism between natural and spiritual things, the argument became extremely plausible. In practical life, however, analogy is commonly used by the lazy or untrained thinker as a substitute for induction. The general method is to proceed from one particular to another, on the hypothesis that like causes produce like 244 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH effects; hence to argue by analogy is to look for resemblances and to ignore differences. A farmer's wife reading a patent medicine advertisement reasons by analogy that what has cured another woman whose symptoms are said to resemble hers will cure her. This illustration shows the great weakness of analogy. The farmer's wife has only the most superficial knowledge of her disease; the real cause may be, and usually is, something that has no relation whatever to the patent medicine even if the medicine is good for anything. The chief use for this type of argument is for the projection of scientific hypotheses. Argument by analogy suggested that if a bird could fly, a machine could be built to fly; it suggested that as conditions for habitation have been ob- served on Mars, it is probable that Mars is inhabited; that as certain social conditions were the prelude to the fall of the Roman Empire, similar social conditions in any society will be followed by its destruction. The argument from analogy has never any validity un- less the resemblances between the familiar object and the unknown are due to the same cause. This cannot be definitely ascertained merely by the processes of analogical argument. But the human mind tends strongly to accept as parallel throughout two objects which present a large number of points of similarity. The chemist who reasons by analogy that an unknown sour substance will redden litmus is right because the same cause acidity exists in the unknown sub- stance as in a familiar acid; but the child who reasons that kerosene will put out fire because it resembles water in ap- pearance will have a sad awakening. In arguing by analogy, remember two things: (1) that it has no value as argument unless the resemblances that are perceived and those that are inferred are due to similar causes; and (2) that its chief value is to establish working hypotheses, and that these hypotheses should never in the course of argument be confused with facts. ARGUMENT 245 ASSIGNMENT 1. Show how the advertising agent reasons by analogy. 2. Syllogize the reasoning by which a friend presses a remedy for cold upon you when you have a cold. 3. State the reasoning by analogy under the following: "How can you read Don Quixote? It's such a stupid book. Try East Lynne that's true to life." 4. Look up the argument of Menenius in Coriolanus I, 1, lOlff., in which he argues by analogy that the State is constructed on the same principles as the human body. Criticize the soundness of the argument. 5. Make a list of the arguments by analogy to be found in the parables of the New Testament; and discuss them. 6. Write in about 100 words the use made of analogy by the astronomer who reasons that Mars is inhabited. 7. Analyze the analogies in the following lines of reasoning, and show which are of value and which are useless for purposes of argument: (1) True, the very poor do survive and grow; but so do potatoes in a dark cellar. (2) Robert Bruce, at the lowest ebb of his fortunes, was en- couraged to continue his fight against the English by watching a spider's efforts to build a web in the face of repeated failure. (3) There is an Anglo-Saxon story about a sparrow that flew into the firelit hall of a king, remained there a short time, and then flew away again, which was used as an analogy referring to the existence of the soul before and after this life. (4) "There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries." Shakespeare. (5) Crime is infectious. (6) Tennyson's Crossing the Bar. (7) Franklin's reasoning when he invented the lightning-rod. (8) Political graft is the cancer of our nation. (9) Our civilization will perish like "the glory that was Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome." (10) Women should go into politics; they will run the national housekeeping as effectively as they manage their own. 8. Collect from the newspaper, or from conversation, or from any other source, half a dozen cases of argument by analogy that 246 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH you think you can justify as useful; and as many that prove nothing whatever. 9. Find instances in science where the use of analogy has led to the suggestion of valuable hypotheses. 10. Explain and criticize the following arguments by analogy: "The flower will die but the atoms of which it is composed will not perish. There are poets as well as students who know that the atom is invisible and indestructible. The most thoroughgoing materialist is sure that death does not end all for the atom. There is no way in which you can end it. You may burn it with fire in your furnace, and with acid in your alembic. You may tear it asunder with electric contrivances, but it laughs in your face. Im- perishability is not of course immortality, but it suggests it." "Second. The relation of thought and brain. Is the disintegra- tion of the brain the annihilation of thought and consciousness? So the materialists have always asserted, but the brain may be only the medium by which thought is transmitted, as the wire is the medium which transmits your telegram. Destroy the wire and your thought may still be transmitted by wireless." 7. PERSUASION In argument that is intended not merely to convince people of the truth of a proposition but to move them to act upon it, persuasion the appeal to the emotions is almost as important as conviction. In an argument to be presented before a popular audience, it is often more effective than the appeal to reason. The principle that underlies persuasion is that of getting and keeping the audience with you. This can be done in various ways by avoiding their known prejudices, by ap- pealing to their sense of humor or to their sense of pathos, by rousing personal interest in yourself, by awakening strong emotions and impulses to action, and so on. Success in per- suasion is not a matter of reasoning, but of understanding human nature. Aside from the unconsciously persuasive effect of dress, manner, gesture, voice, utterance, and personal magnetism the whole effect of which should give the audience an impres- ARGUMENT 247 sion of the speaker's competency, sincerity, earnestness, and fairmindedness there are certain qualities to be aimed at in the preparation of the argument itself which add to the persuasiveness of its appeal. These aims may be summed up as follows: 1. The introduction should be so planned that the opening words will attract attention and rouse some emotion which will create an atmosphere of sympathy for the speaker and his argument. The commonest way of securing this attitude is by an amusing anecdote. This is a good way if the story is amusing, new, and really pertinent to the subject in hand. A detached and dragged-in anecdote does not deceive an intelligent audience. But there are other ways of setting the right emotional key in the beginning. One is to startle by some unexpected or amazing statement. Statistics may have the effect of rousing an audience. If, for instance, you wish to stir people to act against the patent medicine frauds, the fact that $400,000,000 was wasted by the country on worthless remedies in a single year might have a stimulating effect. Often a striking concrete illustration of the problem under discussion will have more effect than statistics; for instance, if you are arguing that charity impedes progress, you may overcome to some extent a natural prejudice against the phrasing of the subject by relating in detail the pauper- ization of a family through the well-intentioned but mistaken efforts of charitable organizations. A striking contrast may make a good beginning; if, for instance, you are arguing in favor of an inheritance tax, you may contrast the amounts contributed to the nation by the working-man and the mil- lionaire. However you begin, you must work for an imme- diate response; and the more prejudiced against your sub- ject you have reason to believe your hearers are, the more necessary it is to divert their thoughts from their prejudices into some emotional channel. 2. In planning and composing your argument, you must 248 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH never forget for a moment the kind of people who are to hear or to read it. There are many ways in which the same set of facts may be presented; and the choice should depend upon the ideas and ideals of the audience. By keeping your audi- ence in mind, you can avoid clashing with their principles and their prejudices, can draw your illustrations from forms of life that are familiar and interesting to them, can adapt your sentences and phrasing to their ways of speech, and can appeal to the kind of emotion by which you have reason to believe they will be moved. An audience of college men and an audience of miners, a New York audience and a New Orleans audience would respond to entirely different modes of appeal. It is only by a discriminating knowledge of human nature in its fundamentals its fixed ideas, its watchwords and its real motives, its weaknesses, its ca- pacities for enthusiasm, its admirations and its derisions, its sentimentalities and its types of humor that you can hope to control an audience as a skilful driver controls a horse. And this knowledge can be bought only at the price of end- less observation and introspection. But every man above the grade of a moron knows enough about his fellowmen and himself to make the tastes and temper of his audience prime considerations in preparing an argument. 3. Phrase definitely to yourself what you wish your speech to accomplish, and recur to this aim whenever you can in the course of the argument. To be definite without antag- onizing, to be insistent without nagging, to reiterate without boring this is the way to convert argument into action; but so large a part of success depends upon the personality of the speaker and the mood of his audience that it is im- possible to give more detailed directions. Good-nature, tact, earnestness, and perfect simplicity all are assets that tend to secure results. ARGUMENT 249 ASSIGNMENT 1. Discuss the methods of persuasion that should be used in presenting the following subjects under the conditions stated: (1) Housing reform before an audience of poor people at a college settlement; before a city council; before a group of specialists in social science (2) Tariff reform before a Democratic audience; before a Repub- lican audience (3) The problem of the unemployed at a meeting of hoboes; be- fore the committee of a legislative body (4) Women's suffrage at a mass meeting of women; before a committee of the Senate (5) Vocational training at a meeting of an employers' association ; at an educational meeting; at a meeting of representatives of labor unions (G) A political speech advocating the election of a certain can- didate, before a mixed audience; before an audience of ardent sup- porters of the candidate (7) The objections to college fraternities before an audience composed entirely of fraternity men; before a mixed audience (8) The curse of wealth a sermon before a wealthy congregation (9) The defense of a prisoner against whom there is strong public prejudice (10) The prosecution of a prisoner who is supported by public sympathy 2. Think of some public speaker whom you have heard and ad- mire, and make notes from memory of the methods of persuasion that he uses. If you have opportunity, hear him again, and make your notes immediately afterward. Discuss these notes in class, and make a summary of the most effective uses of persuasion. 8. PREPARING A FORMAL ARGUMENT Every formal argument consists of three distinctly dif- ferent parts: Introduction, Body, and Conclusion. I. The Introduction states and expounds the proposition to be proved, and gives the history of it and the reasons for discussing it now, if these are to be given at all, and the state- ment of the main issues of the argument. The issues are the assertions upon which choice of sides in the argument de- 250 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH pends. You may read or think over a great mass of ideas associated with a certain problem for instance, your ca- reer and finally, by a process of gradual elimination, you may say to yourself: "I think that I ought to go in for pol- itics when I have taken my degree for 1. A democracy can be made a success only when its government is in the hands of experts; 2. Only college-bred men can be experts in government; 3. Few college-bred men seem to be awake to then* op- portunity in this direction; 4. As far as I can measure my own abilities, they point to public work of this kind as that for which I am fitted." In this way you sift out the relevant material from the irrelevant, you distinguish the important from the less im- portant, and you see the chief points that coordinate to support your view. These are the main issues. It is of the utmost importance that in the Introduction the precise point on which the argument turns should be exactly stated and its terms exactly defined whenever there is any possibility of misunderstanding. All general terms, especially such as socialism, charity, honor, religion, democ- racy should be clearly defined before any argument deals with them. The Introduction of an argument is expository in character, except in so far as the element of persuasion may be present. II. The Body of the argument contains all the proof, and consists of an orderly arrangement of the evidence in support of the proposition, so outlined that each main assertion sup- ports the conclusion and is in turn supported by one or more subordinate assertions, the process being continued until it is evident that the whole structure rests upon a solid founda- tion of facts. III. The Conclusion repeats the proposition in terms of its main issues, and sums up the proofs that have been offered in support of each. ARGUMENT 251 Before attempting to write a formal argument, you should outline the whole process of your thought according to a special form of outline which is technically called the brief. The brief is a device for securing perfect clearness of rela- tionship in constructing an argument. It is simply a detailed plan of the thought, and should state as concisely as possible every point made. For convenience in presenting and in refuting arguments it has been generally agreed that briefs shall be constructed according to very definite rules, of which the following are the most important: 1. It should include the three main divisions of the argu- ment: Introduction, Body, and Conclusion. 2. It should be divided into heads and subheads, marked by the same symbols as those used in the ordinary outline. See below. 3. The Introduction should outline the main issues of the proposition, which should appear as the main heads under the proof and be restated, together with a summary of the proof offered, in the Conclusion. 4. Each head should be phrased as a complete statement. 5. Each head should make only one assertion. 6. In the proof, each head should support the head to which it is subordinated. This relationship is sometimes in- dicated by inserting the word because or for at the end of every head that calls for proof. It is then possible to see at a glance whether or not the subordinate head gives or does not give the reason on which the head to which it is subordinated depends for its weight. But when this relationship is not expressed, it should be unmistakable. You may use the following type of brief as a model : A progressive inheritance tax should be adopted by the Federal Government as a permanent means of revenue. I. The Federal Government needs a large increase of revenue A. There is even now always a deficit B. Our expenses in the future will be much greater than now 252 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 1. We must meet heavy war expenses 2. We must develop our foreign trade 3. We must develop our merchant marine to pro- mote this trade 4. We must expend more on the development and conservation of our natural resources II. The present sources of Federal revenue cannot be relied upon to provide the increase necessary A. The tariff cannot supply the increase 1. It is dependent upon politics 2. It cannot be adjusted on the basis of revenue requirements 3. It is not naturally progressive and cannot be made so B. Internal revenue cannot supply the increase 1. The liquor tax has dwindled to an insignificant sum 2. A tax on business papers would both bring in little and, except in great crises, be obnoxious to the people 3. A tax on tea and coffee would be objectionable a. It is a tax on quasi-necessaries of life b. It would be disproportionately heavy on the poor C. The income tax cannot supply the increase 1. The rates cannot be raised high enough to pro- vide the sums necessary 2. The exemptions cannot be lowered enough to provide them III. No other forms of taxation that will produce large revenues are available except the tax on inheritances [Not developed] IV. The inheritance tax is satisfactory A. It is adequate 1. A moderate tax on present inheritances would produce large revenues 2. As the wealth of the country increases, the rev- enue would increase automatically B. It would not harm the states [Not developed] C. It fulfills all the canons of a good tax 1. It is easily and justly assessable ARGUMENT 253 2. It is easy to collect 3. It is stable 4. It is easily calculable in advance V. It can be made an instrument to relieve undue congestion of wealth in single hands [Not developed] The Refutation is that part of an argument which is de- voted to answering the arguments of the opposite side. In formal debating this has its definite position in the pro- gram, and the preparation for the effective refutation of one's opponents is one of the most important parts of the general preparation of the debaters; for an attack from an unexpected point of vantage or with unforeseen arguments or ammunition might prove disastrous. The subject of de- bating, however, does not belong to this book, and details of procedure must be left for special treatises on the subject. In arguments of a less formal character, refutation, while not assigned a fixed position in the plan or outline, is neverthe- less often of the highest importance. Even when there is no definite opponent to present the arguments of the other side, those arguments are sometimes so generally known or be- lieved to be convincing that one is obliged to take account of them. Sometimes it is best to break the force of these ar- guments before proceeding to set forth one's own views and reasons; sometimes it is best to leave them untouched until one has built up a strong presumption in favor of the views one is presenting. Sometimes adroit speakers and writers gain a temporary success by dismissing the arguments of opponents as trifling or out of date or sufficiently refuted by others; but this is not often either honest or safe. ASSIGNMENT 1. Draw a brief in correct form for the affirmative or the neg- ative whichever you believe of each of the following propositions : (1) Secret societies should be abolished from high schools. (2) Public libraries, museums, and art galleries should be open on Sunday. 254 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (3) Admission to college should be by examination only. (4) Labor Unions are against the real interests of the working- man. (5) Professional training should be preceded by two years of college work. (6) There should be an educational test for voters. (7) Free public employment bureaus should be established in each state. (8) The president of the United States should be elected for one term only, but of six years' duration. (9) The United States should establish old age pensions. (10) All text-books used in the grammar schools should be fur- nished by the state. CHAPTER XIH THE VALUES OF WORDS THE dictionary defines words, but it tells very little about their values in speech or hi writing. Their values depend upon the company they keep their association with ideas, on the one hand, and on the other, with then* neighbors in the sentence. With the exception of connectives and interjections, all words either present ideas or modify them. Ideas are de- rived either directly or indirectly from impressions made upon the mind by the external world of things and their qualities and relationships. We begin with the observation of things and learn to identify them by their qualities; but at the same time we learn to differentiate them from other things, and we are engaged in a continual process of compar- ing the ideas derived from things with a view to establishing relationships of likeness and difference among them. In all these processes and by reason of them, words are born and grow and die. New words are born every day; or rather, new ideas are born with every discovery, every invention, every new mode of thought, and new words are found to christen them. Radium, pragmatism, hydroplane are twentieth century words; camouflage was born since the War began. Almost every issue of a big newspaper contains one or more new words. The rate at which new words are created depends upon the mental activity of a nation. The War has enormously en- riched our vocabulary. Words come into existence because there is need of them to express an idea. If the idea is soon forgotten, or if the 255 256 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH word is so badly formed as to be a caricature, the word is short-lived. Enthuse has struggled hard for existence because there is real need to express its idea; but the word itself is so misshapen that the world is apparently leaving it to die. A good, natural word, however, whether it is created by scholars or comes up, no one knows how, among the people, will have a healthy life as long as the idea which it represents is in existence, and as long as no better word for the same idea fights and overcomes it. Numberless words have lived and died and been forgotten in these ways; and there are still many decrepit words that have survived from the Middle Ages which we now understand dimly if at all. For instance, we know that a jupon was a sort of mediaeval sweater, but opinions differ as to whether it was worn over or under the coat-of-mail. " Grow-green as the grass " what does it mean? We can only guess. But in the course of their lives words grow and change in meaning until in many cases we can scarcely see that "the child is father to the man." The word handkerchief even has a second childhood. A kerchief was a cover-head (chief we still use figuratively as head)', a handkerchief was a head- cover carried in the hand; and now again, in countries where negro women wear head-coverings, they use handkerchiefs for the purpose. Many words begin life as figures of speech, particularly the figures synecdoche, metonymy, and metaphor. SYNECDOCHE involves a transfer to one idea of a word ap- plied originally to another related to it, as: Genus for species: gun for pistol or cannon; Species for genus: vendetta for feud; jitney (jocosely) for any automobile; Singular for plural: horse for cavalry horsemen; Part for the whole: roof meaning house; Whole for the part : New York for the financiers of Wall Street; THE VALUES OF WORDS 257 Common noun for proper: The Narrows a particular strait; Proper noun for common: Academy = & grove near Athens where philosophers met for discussion; now a kind of school, and also an association of learned men. METONYMY also leads to the substitution of a word that expresses a related idea, as: Effect for cause: disease = dis-ease, lack of ease, for which illness is the cause; Cause for effect: style, effect of writing with a style-pen; Container for contents: bottle, as in "He loves the bottle;" Material for the thing made of it: household linen, for sheets, tablecloths, etc.; Place name for a product made at the place: arras, china, damask; Name of person for something first associated with him: mackintosh, boycott, volt, ampere, galvanize, roquelaure; Abstract for concrete: royalty for king; honor for mayor; Concrete for abstract: the Church (the organization); the Stage (the profession of acting) ; Symbol for idea symbolized: Cross for Christianity; Physical organ for quality or faculty associated with it: kind heart; weak brain. METAPHOR is the process by which two apparently different things are identified because of some principle of likeness dis- covered in them, as: Two concrete things : leg of a table, wing of a building, eye of a needle; Some moral or intellectual idea and a material thing: balance of trade; He is thin-skinned meaning sensitive; in hazard meaning originally a certain space in the game of tennis. Now each of these transferences extends the meaning of a word ; and this extension takes place according to two very 258 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH different processes, which are, however, usually found working together. The first is called radiation, that is, spreading from a com- mon center. In this process the original meaning is not forgotten; it is simply applied to one thing after another. For instance, the word cross has many meanings to-day which are built upon the common idea of one thing crossing another. The other process is called concatenation, or chaining to- gether. In this, the word loses its original meaning when it has passed on to the second; its second when it attains a third, and so on. For instance, the original idea of cross two pieces of wood crossed has been lost in cross meaning a burden. Again, the word pioneer meant originally foot- soldier; and even in Shakespeare's time it meant military engineer; this meaning has been entirely lost in the sense " one who opens up new country, or, figuratively, new lines of thought." These two processes working together have the most ex- traordinary effects upon the history of words. From genera- tion to generation we find words going up and down in life, becoming aristocratic or vulgar, unexceptionable or disrep- utable. The word genteel, once a compliment, is now almost an insult. Churl, villain, and boor, all originally meant merely countrymen. A knave was simply a boy; a caitiff was a prisoner of war; a rascal, a lean deer. On the other hand, many scientific terms, particularly physiological, which would have been unmentionable in Queen Victoria's time, are now commonplaces. Mr. Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion is an amus- ing comedy built up about the indiscreet utterance of a word of obscure origin which has always been taboo in British society, because it is commonly used in swearing by the most vulgar people, although no one knows clearly its origin or its present meaning. Although the English language possesses more than 400,000 words, it would be impossible to find two that are THE VALUES OF WORDS 259 exactly the same in value, however near they may approach each other in meaning. They may descend from the same ancestor as sure, secure; fragile, frail; dignity, dainty; curb, curve; tavern, tabernacle; but they have grown so far apart that they no longer have the same meanings. They may have different ancestors, and yet seem at first glance identical in meaning, as assure, affirm, certify, aver, asseverate, protest; but a little work with the dictionary shows that each has its own place and its own associates. They may seem to be derived from equivalent ancestors in different languages; but when you put them together, their meanings are seen to be wide apart, thus: wretch and miser; fight and debate; nightly and nocturnal; run across and occur; solar and sunny; town and villa. The good writer cultivates words and cherishes them; he knows that he cannot have too many. He may at any mo- ment need one more than he has. Barrie in his Sentimental Tommy tells how Tommy who was to become a literary genius lost a prize for a composition because he failed to finish his paper; and he failed to finish his paper because he stopped to find the only word for "a certain considerable number of people." Afterward it came to him: a hantle of folk. The most important source of words for a writer is his own life. If you would write well, you must establish a vital connection between what you say and how you live. Your words must grow out of the technique of your trade, the terms of your profession, the natural features of your environment, the idiom of your neighbors, the intimacies of your home life, the idiosyncrasies of your temperament. All your figures of speech, for example, if they are drawn from these sources, will have the force that firsthand association with the thing itself always gives to language. If you try to get away from the reality of your own experience, on the ground that it is commonplace not "literary" enough 260 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH you immediately deal with things at secondhand and be- come less effective. No experience, however, is sufficient to acquaint you with more than a small part of the words that you must use. Con- sequently, you must supplement from the experience of others as you hear it told by the people whom you meet, and as you read it in books. From the people whom you meet you will get both good and bad, in so far as they vary in their control over language; but from books, if you choose to read only such as are written with full realization of the value of words, you will get nothing but good. Wide and critical reading of such books not only introduces you con- tinually to new words out of your own range, but reveals all sorts of unsuspected meanings in single words, and values due to the association of words in phrasing. Now if you attempt on the basis of reading alone to use these words yourself, you will be doing the very thing that leads to false fine writing; you will be using words that to you are purely literary. To avoid doing this, you must make them your own before you attempt to use them. This you can do in two ways: (1) by studying them not merely looking them up in a good dictionary, until you feel that, you know their implications and suggestive value; and (2) by adopting them into your own family of familiar words and trying them out seeing how they get along together. In this way you will assimilate one after another until your range may grow from a thousand, more or less, up to four or five thousand. This is small enough in view of the enor- mous number of words at our disposal. To give your words the power of stimulating the mental processes of others as your own processes have been stim- ulated by what you are trying to express, you must, naturally, find in each instance, the word that will most perfectly sug- gest your impression or idea. Your first step must be to de- fine to yourself as sharply as possible your idea and impres- THE VALUES OF WORDS 261 sion; and this definition comes only in the process of running over a list of words that almost serve the purpose until with a flash of recognition you pounce upon the right one. The difficulty with most people lies not in being unable to recognize what they want, so much as in being too lim- ited in vocabulary for the word to come without much questing, and in not taking time and trouble to push the search to the end. They say "a number" instead of "a hantle." Suppose, for example, you wish to describe a light. The happy-go-lucky writer will say "a bright light," which may come from the moon, a conflagration, a street lamp, an auto- mobile. As you look at it, you try to define its quality to yourself. Is it glittering? glimmering? glowing? flaming? glaring? fiery? blazing? luminous? lustrous? gleaming? daz- zling? flickering? blinding? brilliant? glistening? shining? burning? radiant? glistering? yellow? sulphurous? sparkling? Can you extend the list? Again, what is the light? A glow? a glimmer? a gleam? a ray? a shaft? a brilliancy? a radiance? a sheen? a fire? a con- flagration? a blaze? a flare? a glitter? a flame? a luster? Can you extend this list? When Poe wished to use light in accumulating the horrors in The Pit and the Pendulum, he defined the glimmer in the dungeon as a "sulphurous luster." Compare the impression that it gives you with that which you derive from "mellow radiance"; "luminous glow," or any other combination of the listed nouns and adjectives. In the opening to Under the Greenwood Tree, Hardy dis- tinguishes the sounds of four different trees thus : To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees moan and sob no less than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles with itself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while its flat boughs rise and fall. 262 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH So for every impression and every idea clear-cut thinking and careful search reveal the right word. In bad company, however, the effect of the right word is lost; that is, phrasing is all-important. The literal sum of two words is always two; but their suggestive value may be two, or twenty, or a hundred. Take, for instance, Kipling's phrasing used to describe the beginning of a flood : In the silence, men heard the dry yawn of water crawling over thirsty sand. Every word in the sentence is common, even commonplace; but taken together, they make us feel both the drought that preceded the flood, and the low noise that the Ganges made as it slowly crawled up the banks like one of its own croc- odiles. The gift of combining common words into a group which is not the sum total of so many words, but the source of a vigorous and striking unified impression different from the mere sum of the meanings of the simple words, varies widely in writers. While phrasing is not altogether a talent that can be acquired, the effort to find fresh and true word combina- tions for every idea leads in time to considerable power of suggestion. The first rule for phrases is: Make your own. The second is: Make them out of your own experience. The third is: Focus your attention on the idea; and the words will come. Never use words because they come easily, or look well, or sound well; but only because they absolutely fit your idea. Particularly to be avoided are the worn-out phrases with which the speech of half -educated people is crowded. They do not trust their own efforts in phrase-making, but use phrases which they have heard on the lips of others. Many of these phrases come from much-admired and frequently- quoted poetry; others are proverbial. But however they arise, as soon as they become current coin of speech, they THE VALUES OF WORDS 263 grow worn and dull. The use of them is fatal to good writing because they induce laziness in attempting to take over, ready-made, what should be expressed for one's self. It is a good plan, when you are in doubt about a phrase that sounds familiar, to look it up in Bartlett's Familiar Quo- tations. If you find it, throw it away and make one of your own. You will find in Appendix VIII, 388, a list of some some of the commonest abuses of this kind; but they are legion. In effective phrasing, figures are of great service, provided that they are not ornamental, but structural; that is, pro- vided that your thought grows figurative without conscious effort. If a figure is deliberately added as an afterthought, it is almost sure to be an excrescence. If it is right, you will find it in the sentence before you are aware. Moreover, the chances are that it will be (1) a short metaphor, (2) a short simile (expressed comparison introduced by like or as), (3) metonymy, or (4) onomatopreia (expression of sense by sound, as purr, rustle, gibber, clang). Again, you will find, if your figure has come naturally, that it is closely associated with your life-experience, very, of ten with universal experience. The following figures are inter- esting partly because of their freshness and partly because of their appeal to common experience: One moment you'd see a block of houses. The next thing there was a new street down the middle of them. A shell had cut it clean out. Then the next shell would strip a series of roofs and send them flying like papers in a storm. The next again would buckle all the gables together like a concertina. John C. McElween. Remember that it is better to use too few figures than too many, and that mixed figures make many a serious passage absurd. They are often used for humorous effect as, for in- stance, in the following sentence from O. Henry: Let me tell you first about these barnacles that clog the wheels of society by poisoning the springs of rectitude with their upas-like eye. . . . 264 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH If you try to image each phase of this sentence, you will see its absurdity at once. Guard against mixing your figures except for such a purpose as this. You have already studied some ways of securing economy in the sentence. As a rule, it is safe to let a single word do all the work it can. Do not use an adverb if a verb can be made to contain the idea of the adverb as well: rushed is stronger than ran swiftly; leaves flickered is more delicate than leaves moved a little. So, also, if the noun can be made to express or imply the meaning of the adjective, it should do so, and the adjective be reserved for cases of real modifica- tion: green grass is no better than grass; but in emerald grass, sodden grass, rusty-brown grass, the adjective is of real use. In general, the tendency to-day, is to lean heavily upon the verb of action in its various forms for imagery as well as for predication. The effect of this is that our writing is more dynamic than that of a generation ago. Our pictures move even when the subjects are nearly static, as in this bit from Stevenson: Clouds coursed over the sky in great masses : the full moon battled the other way, and lit up the snow with gleams of flying silver; the town came dawn the hill in a cascade of brown gables, bestridden by smooth white roofs, and spangled here and there with lighted win- dows. The work of Conrad and of Kipling is also full of this dynamic quality; see the passages quoted on pp. 58, 65, 186. And finally, if the requirements of meaning are satisfied by more than one word, choice will be determined by the rhythm and sound of the sentence and of the paragraph, which will establish the Tightness of a long word or a short word, of a Latin word or a word from Anglo-Saxon, of a word heavy with consonants or purely vocalic. The habit of reading aloud and listening as you read is the best single aid to judg- ment in such a case, particularly if the ear has been trained by practice in reading aloud the work of good writers. THE VALUES OF WORDS 265 By way of practice in observing how the sound of words helps to determine choice, read aloud several times the fol- lowing extract from Walter Pater, which while it is written on this very subject, also exemplifies admirably the theory that it presents. Try substituting synonyms for various words, and see what happens to your prose: The one word for the one thing, the one thought amid the multi- tude of words, terms, that might just do: the problem of style was there! the unique word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, essay, or song, absolutely proper to the single mental presentation or vision within. In that perfect justice, over and above the many contingent and removable beauties with which beautiful style may charm us, but which it can exist without, independent of them yet dexterously availing itself of them, omnipresent in good work, in function at every point, from single epithets to the rhythm of a whole book, lay the specific, indispensable, very intellectual beauty of literature, the possibility of which constitutes it a fine art. For further practice of this kind, the following prose is suggested: Pater's The Child intheHouse^uskin's descrip- tion of St. Mark's from The Stones of Venice; Matthew Ar- nold's Sweetness and Light, from Culture and Anarchy. You will find them in Manly 's English Prose and Poetry, and also or passages very similar in all the chief collections of Eng- lish prose. If you are interested in the history of words, the following books will prove good reading: Greenough, J. B., and Kittredge, G. L., Words and their Ways in English Speech. Bradley, Henry, The Making of English. Jespersen, Otto, The Structure and Growth of the English Language. Darmesteter, J., The Life of Words. ASSIGNMENT 1. Test your range of color distinctions by listing all the shades of green that you can think of; of red; of purple; of yellow; of blue; of black; of white. While you are doing this, note and bring to 266 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH class for discussion any passages in which you observe particular accuracy and suggestiveness in the use of color words. 2. Find things to which each of the following adjectives may be suitably applied: big, large, tall, high, huge, immense, bulky, enor- mous, gigantic, titanic, colossal, and any other words denoting size that occur to you. 3. What image, if any, presents itself to you with each of the following words: slimy; matted; flabby; flimsy; gritty; moist; furry; musty; scraggy? 4. Make as long a list as you can of onomatopoetic words, such as squash, squelch, etc. Quote any passages that you find in which they are used effectively. 5. With a dictionary establish a connection between the following groups of words: sole, solitary, sullen; thrill, nostril; pathos, passion, passive; hussy, husband. 6. Write a 300-word paper on the origin of names of furniture; or of articles of dress; or of precious stones; or of vehicles; or on words that have come down in the world. 7. Find the Anglo-Saxon equivalent for each of the following words and explain the differences in value: vivacious; identical; edifice; annihilate; rigid; eccentric; emaciated; corpulent; endeavor; commence; fragment; mendacious; acute; drama; instruct; vera- cious; transgression; tribulation; prevarication; reticulation; mor- bid; osseous. 8. Explain the origin of the figures in the following: bias; bowl over; parry; thrust; fence; hazard; crestfallen; bandy; run counter; lose track of; hit or miss; within an ace of; disaster; aspect; pre- dominant; influence; humorous. 9. Write a paper of 300 words on common words derived from names. You may use the following to begin with; extend the list as much as you can: cereal; phaeton; epicurean; stoical; sardonic; tantalize; cyclopean; jovial; mercurial; hector; saturnine; colossal. 10. Study the following quotations for their suggestive phrasing; use the dictionary for the italicized words, and analyze with special care the italicized phrases: "There is one day when all things are tired, and the very smells, as they drift on the heavy air, are old and used. One cannot ex- plain this, but it feels so. Then there is another day to the eye nothing whatever has changed when all the smells are new and delightful, and the whiskers of the Jungle People quiver to their roots, and winter hair comes away from their sides in long, draggled locks. Then perhaps a little rain falls, and all the trees and the THE VALUES OF WORDS 267 bushes and the bamboos and the mosses and the juicy-leaved plants wake with a noise of growing that you can almost hear, and under this noise runs, day and night, a deep hum. That is the noise of the spring a vibrating boom which is neither bees nor falling water, nor the wind in the tree-tops, but the purring of the warm, happy world" Kipling. "The cemetery of St. John had taken its own share of the snow. All the graves were decently covered; tall white housetops stood around in grave array; worthy burghers were long ago in bed, benightcapped like their domiciles; there was no light in all the neighborhood but a little peep from a lamp that hung swinging in the church choir, and tossed the shadows to and fro in time to its oscillations. The clock was hard on ten when the patrol went by with halberds and a lantern, beating their hands; and they saw nothing suspicious about the cemetery of St. John." Stevenson. "A great silent bird, with soft brown plumage, whirred across our path, pausing an instant as though to peep, then disappearing with a muted sound into an eddy of the wind it made. The big trees hid it. It was an owl. The same moment I heard a rush of liquid song come pouring through the forest with a gush of almost human notes, and a pair of glossy wings flashed past us, swerving upwards to find the open sky blue-black, pointed wings" Algernon Blackwood. "Houses frowning, machiolated and sombre, or gay and golden- white with cool green jalousies and spreading eaves, stretch before you through mellow air to a distance where they melt into hills, and hills into sky; into sky so clear and rarely blue, so virgin pale at the horizon, that the hills sleep brown upon it under the sun, and the cypresses, nodding a-row, seem funeral weeds beside that radiant purity. Some such adorable stretch of tilth and pasture, sky and cloud, hangs like a god's crown beyond the city and her towers. In the long autumn twilight Fiesole and the hills lie soft and purple below a pale green sky. There is a pause at this time when the air seems washed for sleep every shrub, every feature of the landscape is cut clean as with a blade. The light dies, the air deepens to wet violet, and the glimpses of the hill-town gleam like snow." Maurice Hewlett. CHAPTER XIV IMAGINATION IMAGINATION is constructive power in life as well as in art. It evolves theories, paints pictures, shapes statues, builds houses, invents machines, writes books, creates big business, and brings harmony and vitality into the daily routine of living. It works among the common things by which men have always been surrounded and out of them makes some- thing new which helps them to a wider view and a deeper understanding of life. Without imagination there could be no progress, because without imagination men could not create. In regard to imagination there are several facts which are not always understood. For one thing, it is intimately associated with personality, and varies in every individual. The painter, for example, creates on the basis of what his eyes show him; the musician, on the basis of what he hears. As the inventor and the theorist have, so to speak, imagina- tion of the reason, so the business man has imagination of the practical sense. Again, imagination, unlike fancy which has the Munchausen habit of heaping up absurdities or unrealities for the mere pleasure of the process builds with its foundations on truth; it always bears a definite and recognizable, though variable, relationship to reality. Like a mason or a mechanic, it builds in accordance with its own laws. And finally, it is not the endowment of the few only whose names are remembered for great works; but it is shared by millions who make little or no use of it, partly because they are unaware that they have it, and partly because they lack the technique which is necessary for its 268 IMAGINATION 269 expression. It is probable that every normal mind has imagination enough to achieve more than it even dreams of undertaking. However, it is not with the development of imagination in practical life that we are here concerned; our problem is to show how it manifests itself in writing, and in so doing to suggest how it may be cultivated. When Lewis Carroll wrote Through the Looking-Glass, he began with the idea of reversing life as writing is reversed when seen in a mirror. When Alice jumps into the glass, she arrives in a land where she floats as she tries to go downstairs, has to run hard in order to stand still, eats dry biscuit to quench thirst, and walks away from the thing that she tries to reach. So far Carroll deals imaginatively with life by merely reversing its usual laws. When he introduces his nonsense such as, for example, "The Walrus and the Car- penter" and the "Jabberwock" he breaks away from life altogether, and lets his fancy play as it will. In literature imagination is the re-creation of life according to definite laws; fancy is the creation of a semblance of life according to no law but that of mere whim or chance association. The working of law in imaginative writing is seen carried out in astonishing detail in Swift's Gulliver's Travels. In the Voyage to Lilliput, his principle was to show the pettiness of mankind by representing men one-twelfth the size of the human race. To do this, he was forced to work out a most elaborate reduction in scale in all aspects of life. Joints of meat were "smaller than the wings of a lark"; Gulliver ate two and three at a mouthful, and three loaves of bread at a time. The largest man-of-war was nine feet long, and the tallest temple was "at least five feet high." The Emperor was taller by almost the breadth of Gulliver's nail than any of his Court; and Gulliver could pick up six Lilliputians at once in his hand. Then Swift reverses the process, and shows how big Gul- 270 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH liver looked to the Lilliputians. His handkerchief was large enough to be a rug in a room of state; his snuffbox was a "huge silver chest" into which one of the Lilliputians stepped knee-deep in snuff; his comb was "a sort of engine, from the back of which were extended twenty long poles, resembling the palisadoes" at the Lilliputian Court; his watch "made an incessant noise, like that of a water-mill," and so on. As a natural pendant to the Lilliput story Swift in- vented Gulliver's adventures in Brobdingnag, where the people are sixty feet, instead of six inches, in height. When Gulliver sees a Brodingnagian coming toward him "ten yards at every stride," he utters a reflection in which appears Swift's purpose underlying these changes in the human scale: In this terrible agitation of mind I could not forbear thinking of Lilliput, whose inhabitants looked upon me as the greatest prodigy that ever appeared in the world; where I was able to draw an im- perial fleet in my hand, and perform those other actions which will be recorded forever in the chronicles of that empire, while posterity shall hardly believe them, although attested by millions. I reflected what a mortification it must prove to me to appear as inconsiderable in this nation as one single Lilliputian would be among us. This means, of course, that we have no standard by which to measure the absolute value of any aspect of human life. As the story proceeds, we read that the Brobdingnagians regard Gulliver at first as if he were "a small dangerous animal," and that his gold coins are almost invisibly small. At the farmhouse, Gulliver walking across the dinner table stumbles against a crust and falls flat; he lives in fear of a cat which purrs with a sound as great as " that of a dozen stocking weavers at work," and of the farm dogs, one of which is "equal in bulk to four elephants"; he narrowly escapes having his head bitten off by the baby; and he has a fierce encounter with two rats as large as mastiffs. In all this elaboration of life according to different scales, Swift had an avowed purpose, which was to "help a philos- IMAGINATION 271 opher to enlarge his thoughts and imagination, and apply them to the benefit of public as well as private life." In other words, Swift applies his imagination with almost mathematical precision first to the reduction and then to the exaggeration of life as if it were seen first through a reversed telescope and then through a microscope in order to stir men to ponder upon its values. Both the Gulliver and the Alice books are in a sense freakish products of the imagination; but both are made to grow from a solid foundation of experience: Alice gets away from reality through dreams, and Gulliver by wandering in parts of the world about which in Swift's time little was known. So Samuel Butler, only about fifty years ago, was able to place Erehwon (Nowhere) where modern ideas of civilization are reversed on the other side of a high moun- tain ridge on an island in Australasia; W. H. Hudson, in Green Mansions, was able to imagine a bird woman as living near the unexplored sources of the Orinoco; and Algernon Blackwood, in this present century, uses psychology as a basis for as wild ghost stories as ever were written. Imagination builds always upon fact; very often when it is most successful, upon the commonplaces of life. But it immediately proceeds to combine these into new patterns which bear the imprint of their creator's personality. And this it is which distinguishes the work of imagination from the realistic and impersonal representation of things as they seem to the majority of people. The difference may be likened to that between a portrait by a master in which his own personality is as clearly visible to the seeing eye as the personality of the subject, and a photograph from which the personal element, to which the new pattern is due, is largely eliminated, though even here it shows to some extent in the management of light and shade, composition, pose, choice of details, and so on. This constructive work of imagination in the light of per- 272 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH sonality begins in childhood; it shows in the childish desire to "make something" some vague creation out of tinsel and tissue paper and bits of colored wool; in the invention of games; in the laying out of childish gardens and houses. In some children it even goes so far as to invent, name, and endow with all sorts of characteristics, imaginary playmates. One of the defects of our educational system today is that it tends to suppress rather than to develop this innate love of creation. In the routine of fixed tasks in which there is no choice, and little scope for originality and inventive- ness, most children learn to conform as well as they can to the average, and so establish a habit, which remains un- broken throughout life, of accepting unthinkingly customs and ideas that come to them with no more real authority than a vague "It is proper," "They are wearing," "They say," and so on. To the mind in which the imagination works freely, all such expressions are meaningless; it seeks continually the root of experience from which they grow, and upon the basis of its investigations creates its own pat- terns. It conforms to fashion or makes its own fashion as it will; it conforms to social customs only when it judges these adapted to its needs and contributory to its develop- ment; it evolves its own ideas in a word, it builds its own life structure. To live with imagination is to live free, in control of your environment or at least uncontrolled by it, and to use all the common materials and experiences of life as means of growth. To do this, it is necessary to realize the difference between the life that is lived with imagination and that which is bound to the routine of experience. This realization is in- creased by study of the imaginative presentation of life in literature and in art. Further, the very effort to free con- structive power in all forms of work to take the initiative, to find individual ways in routine, to be on the lookout for fresh patterns in old combinations of things all these IMAGINATION , 273 attempts tend to stimulate imaginative power. And as we are now concerned with the work of learning to write English, the reason for this section becomes apparent. ASSIGNMENT 1. Discuss the possibility of using imagination in preparing a text-book on one of the following subjects: geometry, geography, archaeology, chemistry, botany, sociology. 2. Compare two familiar text-books on the same subject with re- gard to the imagination shown by their authors. Are the differences in material or presentation? Make notes before class with a view to discussing these differences in detail. 3. Discuss three novels known to all the class, and grade them according to the degree and quality of imagination shown. 4. Discuss the following stanza as an illustration of the fact that imagination transforms the common things of life: "Cool was the woodside; cool as her white dairy Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there the boys from school, Cricketing below, rush'd brown and red with sunshine; O the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool! Spying from the farm, herself she fetched a pitcher Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak. Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe, Said, 'I will kiss you'; she laugh'd and leaned her cheek." George Meredith. 5. Find six other short passages, prose or verse, in which the common things of life are transformed by imagination. PART III PRACTICE CHAPTER XV THE TYPES OF WRITING THE technical processes which we have been studying have in the course of time gradually crystallized into certain types of writing, each of which is a composite of two or more of them. The fundamental distinction is of course between prose and verse, although there are forms notably the drama written in either or in both. Before writing was invented, all efforts to express fact or emotion, outside the give and take of conversation, were in verse. Then meter was a necessary device to aid the memory. Thus we have the tribal song the crude expression of a common emotion; the ballad the short story of primitive times, often with emotional comment in the form of a refrain; the epic the primitive historical novel; and the drama the impersona- tion of tribal history for religious ends. Long after writing was invented, prose, originally the un- rhythmical language of daily life, came to be cultivated as a form of expression, but only by 'the few, men who felt that to reflect upon and interpret experience was as necessary as to re-present it. The great mass of popular literature con- tinued to be composed in verse and to be handed down orally from generation to generation long after prose had come into common use for certain classes of writing. Gradually, however, stories and homilies, which had been written in verse for convenience of memorizing, came to be written in prose. As printing developed, books became cheaper and more numerous until the idea of periodical publication was reached. With the chapbook of popular fiction and the political pamphlet came the idea of the news- 277 278 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH paper, and the development of the informal and critical essay. It was not until the nineteenth century that the short story came to be recognized as a definite literary form, and much of its development has taken place in our own tune. To-day journalism is one of the dominant forces in life. It affects all forms of writing; and as a part of its general scheme of educating the masses, it has brought into existence the popular informative article. How far its pressure upon literature is advantageous, how far deleterious, is not for discussion yet; but the fact is patent. The journalistic tone of all writing to-day emphasizes the further fact that literature has become in its purpose almost entirely expository. Primitive races like children love stories for their own sake; poets yield to the delights of de- scription; the pioneers of thinking must use argument; but the great mass of writing produced to-day aims to explain experience. The popular article explains fact; the short story rarely confines itself to plot it studies theme and character; the essay interprets Nature and human nature; the criticism expounds literature, art, and even music. And in this work of universal education the free combination of narration and description with the different methods of exposition and argument lies in the hands of the writer. The best indeed, the only way to learn what can be done in this direction is by the intelligent use of models. This excellent method was hit upon by our shrewd compatriot, Benjamin Franklin, at the mature age of eleven. He says: I thought the writing excellent [in the Spectator] and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view I took some of the papers, and, making short hints of the sentiment in each sentence, laid them by for a few days, and then, without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should come to hand. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. ... I also sometimes jumbled my collections of hints into THE TYPES OF WRITING 279 confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and com- plete the paper. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. Stevenson's method was frankly imitative, and he jus- tifies it thus: Whenever I read a book or a passage that particularly pleased me, in which a thing was said or an effect rendered with propriety, in which there was either some conspicuous force or some happy dis- tinction in the style, I must sit down at once and set myself to ape that quality. I was unsuccessful, and I knew it; and tried again,, and was again unsuccessful and always unsuccessful; but at least in these vain bouts, I got some practice in rhythm, and the co- ordination of parts. That, like it or not, is the way to learn to write; whether I have profited or not, that is the way. And it is the great point of these imitations that there still shines beyond the student's reach his inimitable model. Let him try as he please, he is still sure of failure; and it is a very old and a very true saying that failure is the only highroad to success. . . . Much more to the same effect he writes in the essay called "A College Magazine" in Memories and Portraits. Both Franklin's method and Stevenson's are justified by their results. But even if you do not feel equal to the eternal experimentation that makes great artists, or care to attempt to write like Mr. Shaw one day and Mr. Chesterton the next, you can make intelligent use of good models simply by reading them with a view to discovering the sources of their success; and when you discover a good way of saying some- thing, you are free to use it and to improve upon it upon three conditions. One condition is, that you should never take into your work so much as a single striking phrase without the use of quotation marks to show that it is borrowed. If you do, you are guilty of plagiarism in plain words, stealing. And literary stealing is, if anything, worse than material stealing there is never an excuse for it. 280 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The second is, that you should never rest with imitation of the method of one author; you should use many, in order to counterbalance and to counteract the effect of each. If you imitate one, your work is likely to be a mere dilution of his. If you imitate many, and do it wisely, your work will be enriched from many sources. To imitate wisely, you must bear in mind the third condi- tion, which is that the right sort of imitation is rather a kind of assimilation and stimulation. You study a model, and let the impressions that it makes upon your mind sink in and be forgotten merge into the subconscious. Then later you begin to write; and what you have studied and admired and forgotten in detail reappears in some mysterious fashion to fructify and enrich your own method. All this, you may say, is for the professional writer. By no means. He will take care of himself. But in these days of journalism there is no profession in which an educated man is not likely to be called upon at times to write or to speak. In business, in science, in research of all kinds, in the law, in the ministry, in teaching, in politics, in every con- ceivable kind of work, the successful man comes to the time when he needs technique and practice in expressing his views. And all the training that you can get in principles, all the study of the different types of writing as they are found in good models, will be none too much when that demand is made upon you. Moreover, the doing is its own reward. Your efforts to interpret the truth will give you more knowledge of the truth. Your struggles to master English so that it will be your serv- ant on all occasions will give you power and the sense of power in dealing with your fellows. And your study of the work of those who have contributed to our wealth of thought and the beauty of our language will give you the pleasure of companionship with the best. In this book we must limit our study to the shorter, simpler THE TYPES OF WRITING 281 forms, practice of which, however, always paves the way for more elaborate work. To this point, you have been studying the five-finger exercises and scales of writing; you will now proceed to study "easy pieces." Some of you will one day be working with the fugues and sonatas of literature. ASSIGNMENT 1. Report on the contents of the latest bound volume of one of the leading magazines: the number of stories and their average length; the number of articles and their average length; the space allotment for poetry; the editorial space; any peculiar features or special types of literature noted. In class discussion the characteristics of the different magazines should appear. Make notes of these for use when you begin to write. 2. As far as time permits, read "skippingly" to determine the general character of the stories in the volume with which you are working, the subjects of the articles, etc. Prepare for class discus- sion a sort of topography of your volume. 3. In a 300-word paper explain why you think that the ability to write English well may or may not be of service to you in your life work. CHAPTER XVI NEWSPAPER WORK 1. NEWS THE ideal newspaper aims to get all the news and nothing but the news, and to publish it without error as soon as it happens. The ideal newspaper man, then, is one who ob- serves accurately, chooses unerringly, and acts promptly. As a reporter, he always happens to be where news happens, all eyes and ears for every detail; as a rewrite man, he has an instinct which registers increasing and decreasing news values; as an editor, he has his finger always on the pulse of public curiosity, and by it regulates his paper. What is "news"? Primarily, something new. But this definition is too vague: what is news to me, you may have known last week. What is news in Biggsville to-day was "old stuff " in New York yesterday. On the other hand, if Uncle Si Balderdash of Biggsville falls downstairs and breaks a leg, Biggsville has the news before New York; and more New York doesn't want the news at all. To be new is not enough. But if Uncle Si is a hundred years old, and picks himself up unhurt, with the gay remark that "livin' on oat- meal has kep' me so spry," New York will want the news. Everything that occurs is new; but news involves departure from routine; and the degree of departure needed varies directly according to the size of the town. The little varia- tions that Biggsville reads with interest are not even men- tioned in a city paper. There is, however, a third element in news; and that is the degree to which the public is already familiar with and in- NEWSPAPER WORK 283 terested in the subject. The best way for an average citizen to get on the front page of a newspaper is to murder or be murdered; but for one who is already in the public eye it is enough to acquire a slight cold: the more famous the person, the slighter may be the cold. The fact is that the newspaper is founded upon man's interest in his fellows, and whatever it prints that takes his thoughts away from himself and his immediate surroundings into the larger human family is the news that he wishes to read. The fact that in supplying food for this interest the newspaper stimulates and gratifies public curiosity beyond the limits of dignity and of decency is the deplorable side of the great work that it does in educating the masses of the people in current world history and in human nature. As news, then, consists of great occurrences to small people and of small as well as great occurrences to "great" people, it follows that the most news is to be gathered where most people are assembled: in the city as against the country; and in a small cosmopolitan city as against a provincial city of larger size in Washington, for example, as against Buffalo. The range and variety of sources of news in a city are amaz- ing The big newspapers have agents official or unofficial wherever people congregate especially. Court rooms, munic- ipal offices, churches, schools, colleges, police stations, the meetings of all kinds of organizations and societies, hospitals, theaters, social settlements, wharves, markets, and all other commercial centers, transportation centers in short, all conceivable gathering places of men for any purpose whatever furnish news items. As you read your newspaper, you will observe that almost every item contains a clear indication of the source from which it is derived. ASSIGNMENT 1. Choose the best paper that you know, and buy two copies of the same issue. First separate all the advertising matter from 284 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH the news. Then cut up the news matter, and arrange the articles in groups under the following heads: (1) Foreign news (2) National news (3) Domestic but not local news (4) Local news (5) Articles of timely interest, not news (6) Departments (society, sport, club, church, markets, dress, household, physical culture, garden, etc.) (7) Correspondence (8) Editorials (9) Miscellaneous As newspapers differ widely, you need not follow this outline rigidly, but make one of your own which contains about the same number of heads, and covers practically the same ground. Provide enough envelopes (10" x 4", or larger), mark each with a heading, and place in it all the articles of one type. If you are in doubt as to the classification of any article, mark one envelope doubtful and use it for matter that remains unclassified until after class discussion. Put aside the advertising matter, and prepare answers to the following questions: (1) What sources of news are indicated in the paper itself? (2) In what various ways is news transmitted? (3) How many pages are in the paper? how many columns to the page? how many words to the column? (4) What different lengths of article do you find? What length predominates in the different classes of articles? (5) What peculiar features in policy or make-up do you discover? On the basis of your examination, prepare a brief description of the newspaper, and try to give it to the class in two or three minutes. Keep your envelopes and clippings for future use. 2. Read carefully the items in your local news envelope, and from them make as complete a list as you can of all possible news sources. 3. Out of a single issue of some newspaper, cut lines indicating sources of news. Make your collection supplement the list obtained from 1. 4. Discuss in class the following as news sources: the corner drug- store; a fashionable florist; the policeman on his beat; the delicates- sen store; children playing on the street; a garage; the county clerk's office; the Health Department; a fire-engine house. NEWSPAPER WORK 285 5. Lay out all your local news items on the table, and measure the space assigned to each. Decide on the basis of (1) the matter itself, and (2) the probable interests of the readers of the paper, why the space allotment has been made as you find it. You will not be able to say in all cases; but decide as many as you can. 6. Lay out your foreign news similarly, arranging it according to subject-matter, and determine from how many points of view each subject is treated ; and if from more than one, why. 7. Examine your domestic, non-local news and decide why it was admitted into the paper in each case. 8. Turn reporter and collect as much campus news as you can. Do not write it in full but bring notes to class of both the news and the source in each case. Discuss the value of each item, and suggest other sources of news not exploited. In collecting news items, it is important to note names (with care for correct spelling), and such other details as are easily forgotten or confused; but it is equally important not to note everything, partly because in the process of note-taking you are likely to miss other details, and partly because too many details may take the "life" out of a story. 2. GENERAL PRINCIPLES For all news stories there is one fundamental and invariable rule: Keep within the space limits assigned. This is called " writing to space." Its importance is due to the fact that in newspaper work time is too valuable to be wasted in cut- ting down an article that should have been written as ordered. Scarcely less important is the rule that every story must have a "lead," giving the main facts, and from this "lead" should tail away in an anti-climax. In this respect the news story proceeds by a method exactly contrary to that of the fiction story. The method, however, is used for two definite reasons : 1. As nobody can read the whole of a newspaper, and everybody wishes to know at least the gist of all the news, the lead gives him the summary, and enables him to choose whether or not he will go on to details. 2. As fresh news is continually pouring in and crowding 286 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH out earlier news in successive editions of the same paper on the same day, the order of decreasing importance enables the editor to cut off paragraph after paragraph without injury to the sense of what precedes, until, if necessary, he gets back to the lead itself, which still gives the essential features of the story. In constructing a news story, then, you should put into the lead all the facts that the reader who is in haste could wish to know. These may be combined in a single sentence, or better, in a group of short sentences, of which the first states the most important fact. Usually one paragraph is enough for this material; but sometimes it may run to two or three paragraphs. But the order of decreasing importance should be observed throughout, so that the reader who gets only the first part of the first sentence will nevertheless have the most important fact. Even the opening words should be chosen with a view to suggesting the content and impor- tance of the news. The remainder of the story the "body" should first develop all the points summed up in the lead, in the order of their importance, and should then add any other details or comments that lend interest. The six questions that a reporter tries to answer are: When? where? who? what? why? and how? All these details should be given in short par- agraphs sufficiently independent to allow the story to be cut off at the end of any one and still seem complete. Average paragraph length is from 100-150 words; and in newspaper work a single sentence often stands in a paragraph alone. Other rules w r hich it is useful to remember are: 1. Use short sentences 20 words is a good average length. 2. Use the active voice; avoid participles; reduce predica- tion by condensing subordinate clauses to prepositional phrases. 3. Be impersonal: avoid both we and /. 4. Avoid formal relation words, such as in the first place, NEWSPAPER WORK 287 moreover, therefore, on the other hand, finally, etc., except where they are absolutely needed for clearness which is almost never. Express your ideas in such form and order that they need no formal connections to make their relations clear. 5. Be straightforward: avoid all such circumlocutions as a number of, a distance of, at the corner of, the height or length or breadth of, of age, there was, etc.; give the numbers without preambles which only waste space. 6. Be as specific as possible as to size, shape, color, and all other qualities of the object described or discussed. 7. Avoid indirect quotation: quote directly when you have space; otherwise sum up. 8. Omit very; and use alone whenever you can, unless you are sure that you can use only in such a way that it will modify the word intended (see Appendix, 337). 9. If a detail or a phrase or a word can be cut without changing the effect of the story, omit it; it is a clog, not a help. 10. In considering your vocabulary, remember that when a phrase or a word comes easily, the chances are that it is one so commonly heard in the connection that you did not have to think at all to get it. The well-worn phrases which recur whenever similar news items are handled appear simply because they are familiar, because they come most easily to men in a hurry. But the good journalist has at least the ideal of making his phrases as fresh as his news. He knows that fresh turns of phrase actually lend interest to the content. Consequently, he is never far from his dic- tionary. On the other hand, he is as quick to use effective new words and phrases as soon as they become current sometimes perhaps too quick. He tries, however, to avoid slang because he realizes that slang is always very limited in its appeal. Even while it is popular it is not understood by all readers, and most pieces of slang are as short-lived as a fashion in dress. 288 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Before you begin to practise the writing of news stories, refer to Appendix I in regard to the form of "copy." ASSIGNMENT 1. Choose from among the news stories in your envelopes one of either national or international interest, and analyze it in detail as an exemplification of the various rules given for news stories. Find the lead, and decide whether or not it covers the most im- portant points, and whether the most important of all stands in the first sentence. Examine the body to see at what points it could stop; try the effect of various stopping places. 2. Find the lead in six others among the most important stories in your envelopes, and see whether in each case it summarizes the story. Discuss in class any improvements that are suggested ; news- paper men are not infallible. 3. Make from one or more newspapers as long a list as you can of infringements of the rules given on pp. 286f. and also discuss any errors hi English that attract your attention. 3. NEWS STORIES The simplest sort of newspaper work is the straight news story, which aims at nothing more than presentation in narrative form, as condensed as possible, of news that has no special features of interest. It concerns accidents, petty crimes, the meetings of political, educational, commercial, and other organizations, outlines of the careers of people of some prominence when they receive some new appointment or when they die, reports of weddings and social functions, etc. In all such stories the reporter's chief business is to get all the important facts, and to waste no words. The following is a fair example of this kind of story: NAME NEW ACADEMY HEAD BREEN UNIVERSITY TRUSTEES NAME EDWARD W. BROWN TO SUCCEED FOREST PENDRITH The trustees of Breen University yesterday announced the ap- pointment of Edward Brown of New York, to succeed Forrest Pendrith as principal of the affiliated academy. NEWSPAPER WORK 289 Mr. Brown is a graduate of the Chicago State Normal School and Breen University, and has done graduate work at the University of Nebraska and Columbia University. He has been principal of the high school at Julian, New York, a teacher in the high school at Breen, and subsequently superintendent of schools in the latter city. Mr. Pendrith offered his resignation as principal of the academy several weeks ago, and has since been appointed instructor in Latin at the university. Mr. Brown will assume his new duties in June. ASSIGNMENT 1. Compare with the story just quoted others which you find in your local news envelope, and see how many of them you can cut to advantage. 2. Write three stories of less than 150 words each on campus news. In class discussion, correct them from the point of view of details omitted, and of unnecessary words used. 4. FEATURE STORIES Stories which involve far greater departure from the rou- tine of life than do ordinary news stories are naturally of far greater interest, and to bald narrative are added description and exposition in the form of dialogue. The chief characters in the real-life drama are made, whenever it is possible, to speak for themselves. So in an account of "a murder, wit- nesses, the victim's friends, and if possible, the murderer are quoted. These comments are obtained by interview. Fur- ther, when some prominent person is being written about in connection with some particular event, the interview is often sought for its own sake, that is, because of public in- terest in the speaker, and not because there is any special news to report about him at the moment. Very similar in type to the feature story is the report of a speech or of various speeches at a meeting. All these stories must be dealt with in the same way. The material must be presented, rather than narrated; and the interesting points of the speech or conversation must be 290 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH made the high lights, as it were, of the picture. The reporter learns to choose what is new, vital, in a speech, and to sum- marize, or omit, the remainder; he learns to quote what is picturesque, characteristic, in an interview, and to omit much that was actually spoken. His method is akin to that of the writer of fiction who concentrates his dialogue. The following extracts from a long article show this method : JURY TAMPERING IN I. W. W. CASE CHARGED BY U. S. LANDIS DISMISSES PANEL OF 200 AND THE TRIAL STARTS ANEW Charges of jury tampering broke like a bombshell in the I. W. W. trial yesterday afternoon. Judge Landis' answer to the accusation was to discharge the entire panel of 200 men. The work of eight days was swept into the junk heap and the trial begins all over at the start. A new venire of 150 men was ordered, the first fifty to report a week from to-morrow. Until then the trial is off. Charles F. Clyne, United States district attorney, caused the upheaval by alleging that agents of the I. W. W. had approached practically every man called for jury service in the federal court. CLYNE PROMISES EVIDENCE "If we are given until Monday morning we can have an avalanche of evidence to show that these men have been approached," said Mr. Clyne to the court. "I cannot point my finger at the man or men who have been doing it, but I may be able to do it soon." The climax came after George F. Vanderveer, counsel for the I. W. W., had tendered four jurymen to the government and had asked that they be sworn. This brought Mr. Clyne's protest and his revelations. "Women have been terrified by the investigations made by the defense, thinking their menfolk were being investigated by the government as spies," added the district attorney. TELL OF MYSTERIOUS VISITORS Before he made these statements he had questioned the four tentative jurymen point blank, asking them if they had any myste- rious visitors, or any peculiar telephone calls. They admitted that they had. NEWSPAPER WORK 291 Judge Landis ordered the jurymen from the courtroom and then called ten veniremen who were waiting. He questioned them pri- vately, a court reporter taking down their replies. At the close of the court's investigation he dismissed the entire waiting panel. "How does the government conduct its investigation of jury- men?" asked Otto Christensen, associate counsel for the I. W. W. "Just as it has done for fifty years," replied Mr. Clyne. LAWYERS IN DARK "The prosecutor alleges that he first learned of this last Thurs- day," broke in Attorney Vanderveer. "Yet he has gone right ahead questioning jurors. He has been gambling with his chance to get a jury "You didn't want to gamble at all," said Clyne. "You can get as nasty as you want with me outside the court- room, but not here," flashed Vanderveer. "All right, outside!" replied Mr. Clyne, militantly. Vanderveer and Clyne were standing face to face, glaring. "This lawsuit does not belong to either the prosecuting attorney or the defense," broke in Judge Landis. "At the first indication of any monkeying with the jury it is the duty of any attorney con- nected with the case, or any juryman, to bring the matter to the attention of the court." JURORS GIVE EVIDENCE "While we have had intimations, the positive proof only became apparently questioning the jurymen to-day," said Frank Nebeker, who pushed his way to the bar. William B. Russell, 604 West Thirty-third street, told the court that a man had approached his wife while he was away. He said the man had asked her if she had ever heard her husband say that the I. W. W. members were bomb throwers. "Who are you?" she asked. "I'm an I. W. W.," the man replied, according to Russell. He also told of a phone call, the man's voice remarking that he was the man "who saw your wife," and of his efforts to get the man to meet him face to face. ASSIGNMENT 1. Report as accurately as you can a short conversation. 2. Choose from any of your envelopes a report of a speech or 292 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH of several speeches at a meeting, and an interview. Criticize and improve these in any way you can. 3. Write a 200-word report of some lecture, sermon, or meeting. Discuss the reports in class, and improve them. It is desirable that several students should use the same material in order to get a better basis for comparison. 4. Write a 200-word interview with some real person. Talk to your dressmaker or tailor, and write on: What is Worn on the Campus. Talk to a florist, or grocer, or the head of the employment or housing bureau, or the keeper of a boarding house, and write on a subject suggested by the conversation. Remember to suppress the / and the we. Throw all the emphasis upon the person interviewed. 5. "HUMAN INTEREST" STORIES It often happens that news which directly concerns very few people appeals to many by virtue of what is called its "human interest"; that is, it illustrates some quality of human nature which all men like to think that they possess, or which they would like to possess; or it typifies and so universalizes some common aspect of experience gives it the quality of humor or of pathos which makes it appeal to the emotions o,f all men. This is called the "human interest " story; and its methods are similar to the methods of fiction. Here alone in the newspaper it is not necessary for the lead to be a summary; it may on the contrary merely suggest the point of the story, which is not revealed until the last sentence, as in the very modern short story. Further, description and dialogue are "played up" for all they are worth. Colloquialisms and slang are used to give local color, and every drop of humor or of pathos whichever it happens to be is extracted from the situation. In fact, the great danger in this type of story lies in the temptation to overdo the emotional aspect. The art of writing such a story lies in distinguishing between true and false feeling, and in eliminating sentimentality. The chief characteristic of the human interest story is its variety; it may be treated in any NEWSPAPER WORK 293 way whatsoever, provided that it is successful in its emotional appeal. In the following examples, note: (1) the suggestive leads; (2) the use of dialogue, and the realism of the dialogue; (3) the use of description: FATE CANNOT HARM RICHARD: HE HAS DINED WE'LL LET YOU READ THIS TO GET THE POINT OF IT Richard Poillon, who gave his address as the Gladstone hotel, entered the Bismarck garden with the air of one who waves his hand and causes the landscape to recede at his mere gesture. Nine waiters and seventeen bus boys fell over each other to attend. M. Poillon condescended to sit. He viewed the carte de jour and de- bated the little neck clams. He would try them. "Clams," said he, smartly, "garcon!" They were brought. M. Poillon made a few mystic passes and the clams fairly leaped into his ample throat. THE WAITER DREAMS OF RICHES "Consomme," he purred, "at once." It was before him. The waiter stood dreamily wondering if he should have a limousine or a new flat-building out of the tip so cer- tainly forthcoming. "A filet," said M. Poillon, "with a piquant sauce. A salad of a variety of crisp vegetables and fruits. The wine at the temperature of the room. Attend!" It came and went. The waiter decided upon a summer home in the Catskills. He scratched his palm on the corner of the table. Other waiters murmured, "Lucky stiff!" "Another quart of the '48!" said M. Poillon graciously, now the warmth of the grape rippled in his blood. The '48 came. "Perfectos," murmured M. Poillon. He bit the end from one and lighted it; others in his pocket. AND THEN LAKE VIEW 11 "Demitasse," he said. He smiled amiably as through the rich velvet of the Havana haze he viewed the world anew. He turned idly. "Gallon," he said. The waiter prepared to hold out both hands. 294 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH "My good fellow," said he, "will you be good enough to call Lake View 11 on the telephone? Also, what is the bill?" "The bill," said the waiter, "is $12.10. Who shall I ask for?" "Lake View 11," said M. Poillon, "is the Town Hall station. You may call the police. There is no money." HERO SAVES 24; DIES WITH "PAL" IN DEADLY GAS BREAKING VALVE IN ILLINOIS STEEL PLANT FATAL TO TWO WORKERS Greater love hath no man than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15, 13. Twenty-five of his fellow men were in the same room with young Sheldon Lacey out at the Illinois Steel company's plant in South Chicago yesterday afternoon. It was the washer room adjoining blast furnace No. 1, and the men for the most part were furnace blowers, like Lacey. Along one side of the washer room is a big pipe. Waste gas deadly poison when freed flowed through the pipe. LACEY WATCHES VALVE The men, dogtired after many hours of hard work, were enjoying a few minutes of rest. They had separated into half a dozen small groups and were talking all but Lacey, who was too tired to talk. Lacey's eyes were on the wastepipe's two foot valve. He wasn't intentionally inspecting the valve; just happened to be looking at it. Lacey, like the rest of the men, knew death moved behind the valve. He wasn't worried. The pipe had been performing its office a long time and was good for many years as long as the building itself. It was like a heavily insulated wire, deadly inside, but not dangerous to the touch. POISONOUS GAS FLOODS ROOM So Lacey happened to be looking at the valve when a rivet gave way. There was a crash as the iron covering dropped to the floor. Into the room rushed the gas. Lacey thought quickly. He was near the door and the open air. To approach the broken pipe meant certain death. He turned his back on the door. "Get out, boys!" yelled Lacey. "I'll hold it back a while." The gas sapped his strength so rapidly it was all he could do to lift the valve. But he managed to get it back into place rather NEWSPAPER WORK 295 almost into place. Through the cracks and the hole where the rivet had been the gas reached for him. AND THEN DEATH They were all out when Lacey and the valve fell together. One of them turned. He was Peter Moncilochi, old enough to be Lacey's father, and of an alien race, but his "partner." Peter managed to drag Lacey half way to the door. There both fell again. Four other volunteers carried them out and collapsed themselves. A few hours later both died in the company hospital, within five minutes of each other. The four volunteers were lying near, still unconscious and perhaps dying. No one knew the names of the four. Men go by numbers in the mills until they die. ASSIGNMENT 1. Reduce each of the human interest stories quoted above to half its space by turning it into straight narrative; then tell it in the fewest possible words. Did the nature of the story in each case warrant its development into a feature story? Why? 2. Find all the human interest stories in your envelopes, and de- cide in regard to each whether it was worth treatment in this way. 3. The following clippings are feature stories very slightly devel- oped beyond the point of bare news. Use your imagination to develop one of them with such additional details as might have grown out of the situation: SNIPE SEASON OPEN? SURE LAKE FOREST FRESHMAN SPENDS FIVE HOURS OPENING IT THOROUGHLY Harold Rabbits, freshman at Lake Forest college, never wants to go snipe hunting by moonlight any more. Wednesday night several seniors at the college induced Rabbits, who hails from Coddlesville, 111., to join them on a snipe hunting party. The freshman was given a lantern, whistle and a bag. He was in- structed to hold the bag open at the bottom of a ravine near the Harold F. McCormick estate. He waited with the open bag from 9 o'clock until 2 o'clock yesterday morning. PIGS is PIGS, BUT THESE PORKERS WIN THEIR STRAPS Belchertown, Mass., Aug. 26. [Special.] Farmer Jack Newman of this town has organized his piggery according to the infantry drill 296 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH regulations. He has nearly a hundred pigs on his farm and out of the hundred he has picked a squad of thirty-two selected as the most intelligent. It took about two weeks to select his squad; then the drilling commenced. Every morning before breakfast these pigs followed their drill master around the edge of the field, just inside the wire. Then they paraded across the center and did a grand march. After this was kept up for about two weeks Mr. Newman pur- posely delayed his appearance and found that the pigs went through their usual evolutions alone. 4. Write 200- words on a real hazing experience, or some other amusing incident of the freshman year. 5. Write a 200-word human interest story about one of the follow- ing situations: (1) a woman wearing blue fox furs is caught putting eggs into her muff; (2) a chimpanzee in full evening dress strolls into the lobby of a New York hotel; (3) a sexton breaks his neck in digging his own grave, the making of which he is unwilling to trust to anyone else. 6. " REWRITE " AND " FOLLOW-UP " STORIES Whenever a piece of important news is printed, it is likely to be followed by other stories of two types: (1) "follow-up" stories; and (2) "rewrite" stories. In the "follow-up " stories new developments have occurred since the appearance of the first story; these must be given the first place in the lead, while the original features must come after, to remind people what the original situation was. In the "rewrite" stories, there is practically no new mate- rial; but the earlier story appeared in another paper, or in an earlier edition of the same paper, and an appearance of fresh- ness must be given to the news by viewing it from a fresh angle; that is, by writing a new lead for it. The best way to understand the methods used in such articles is to compare articles giving the same news that appear in an evening paper, and again in a morning paper. You will be able to distinguish at once between the follow-up and the rewrite stories. Notice particularly how the proper- NEWSPAPER WORK 297 tions vary; and also how the news itself either grows or dimin- ishes overnight in its demand upon the public attention. Especially, good practice in beginning newspaper work is that of rewriting with a new lead, and at the same time con- densing. Nothing gives more flexibility, which is one of the newspaper man's chief assets. Note the condensation in the following rewrite: Original Article COULD BUILD "Sus" CHASERS IN CAPITAL Firm in the belief that the workmen of the Washington Navy Yard have no superiors in the United States, the Chamber of Com- merce has petitioned the Secretary of the Navy to order, if possible, the building of submarine boat chasers and other lightdraft vessels here. In a letter addressed to the Secretary of the Navy, A. Leftwich Sinclair, president of the Chamber of Commerce, states: "In view of the enlargement of the Washington navy yard we understand the new boiler shop will be completed in four months will it not be possible to order the building of submarine chasers and boiler work repairs on light draft vessels to be done in Washington? "The Chamber of Commerce believes that the workmen of the Washington navy yard have no superiors in any yard /in the United States, and on many classes of work we believe that they excel the men of other yards, as has been demonstrated by tests from time to time." Rewrite CHAMBER BOOSTS NAVY YARD COMMERCE BOARD ASKS SECRETARY DANIELS TO EXTEND WORK DONE HERE In view of the expansion of the working capacity of the Washing- ton navy yard since the outbreak of war, the Washington Chamber of Commerce has written to Secretary Daniels of the Navy De- partment asking him to build submarine chasers and to have light warships repaired at the local yard. The chamber points out that improvements are under way to make even larger the capacity of the local yard. The letter states 298 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH that the yard has a force of workmen equal in ability to any in the country. ASSIGNMENT Cut out of an evening paper six news items of sufficient impor- tance to suggest that they will be repeated in the morning paper. Try your hand at rewrites, and the next morning compare your work with that which actually appears in the paper. Reduce one item to one-half; one to one- third; one to one-fourth; and the others to the lowest possible terms. Do not attempt the follow-up as you will not have the necessary news. 7. THE SUNDAY EDITION The Sunday edition of a paper usually contains various popular articles on subjects of timely interest. These do not differ in treatment from the popular expositions of this kind prepared for magazines, except that they conform rigidly to the space limits assigned. In order to write such an article successfully, you must keep one eye on the output of the paper from week to week, and the other eye on current events; and where you see an opening, rush your article. The management of departments demands special knowl- edge of the subject, and special ability to plan and to enlist the aid of experts, but not special training in writing. If you know enough on any subject of public interest for example, sports, or gardening, or marketing, or cooking you have only to study carefully the columns of some good paper to get an idea how such a department is conducted. ASSIGNMENT 1. If you have a popular article among your clippings, note the subject and the space limit assigned, and write for the same paper a similar article on some subject of timely interest. Such a subject is best suggested from the news reported in the paper itself. 2. Collect facts and write 300 words on: How Students Pay their Way through College. NEWSPAPER WORK 299 3. Go to a museum or art gallery and collect facts in regard to the most recent acquisitions. Write 100-200 words. 4. Collect facts from the college bookstore and other sources, and write 300 words on: What College Students Read for Amuse- ment. 5. Write 300 words on the career of some popular athlete or some member of the faculty. 6. Report on the departments that appear in the paper you read: the number of them; space allotted; and practical value. 8. EDITORIALS The editorial is the instrument by which the newspaper attempts to mold public opinion. It is thus for the most part argumentative in purpose. The leading editorials are based upon the chief news items of the day; and they aim to sum up the facts in such a manner that the readers of the paper will be of the same mind in regard to these facts as the edito- rial staff. When the news concerns a highly debatable issue, straight argument may be used; but commonly the more unobtrusive methods of persuasion are employed. Good editorials are often models of persuasion; and should be care- fully analyzed by students of newspaper writing. When the news of the day is unimportant, the editorial space of a paper is filled with short essays expressing the editor's general philosophy of life, or his comments on topics of current interest, which may not, however, be specially be- fore the public on the day when the editorial appears. Such essays may still be of a persuasive character for the con- scientious editor has the habit of educating his readers; but they may also be purely expository, as, for instance, when a big city paper publishes in the Christmas season an enter- taining editorial on the odors associated with Christmas. An editorial may range in length from a short paragraph to more than a column; its limit is determined by the impor- tance of the 'subject, the strength of the editor's convictions, 300 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH and, in the case of minor editorials, by the amount of space left when the editorials expressing the paper's policy have been written. As editorials on news items of the day lose much of their effectiveness when they grow out of date, the following exam- ples have been chosen because they are interesting comments on topics of humane value which are likely to concern people for some years: SOMETHING OTHER THAN COMMERCIALISM [From the Minneapolis Journal] A professor, writing in the Atlantic Monthly, points out that Venice was a commercial city and supported Titian and Giorgione, that Holland was a commercial country and supported Rembrandt and Franz Hals. He concludes that commercialism and art are not antipathetic. He declares, indeed, that riches are necessary to art; that art is the luxury of a rich community. No doubt he is right. But it is also a fact that Carthage was rich and hadn't any art that was worth while, that London is com- mercial but isn't favorable to art, that Norway, poor Norway, pro- duced Ibsen and Bjornson. Therefore it cannot be true that riches cause art or that art is dependent upon riches. The professor believes that commercialism is not what is the matter with present day writing in this country, which writing he admits to be of no lasting and little temporary value. But he finds the reason for that phenomenon not in our riches but in our pursuit of riches. All of us are after the dollar, engaged in that engrossing pursuit, and have not the leisure of mind or sufficient attention to read anything save that which is designed to go in one ear and out of the other, to amuse the vacant hour and to be forgotten, in order not to interfere with serious business. Causes of divers sorts may be discovered or invented, but the fact is patent to all intelligent minds. The fact everybody is agreed on. The fact is really surprising namely: that people as well educated, as shrewd, as mentally alive, as productive in utilitarian endeavors as are our people, read and enjoy the stuff they do sentimental, sensational, superficial about the poorest aesthetic provender that any really civilized people was ever contented with. The fact is patent, palpable. The reason for it perhaps our NEWSPAPER WORK 301 children's children will find out. Meantime our critics can guess, or confine themselves to the simple business of sneering. The professor in the Atlantic, however, has hope for the future. So have we when all who are now living and reading have died off. EFFACING TIME [From the Des Moines Register and Leader] Rather a striking quotation from the late John Muir was made at the burial of this author and naturalist who died in California the day before Christmas. "Longest is the life that contains the largest amount of time-effacing enjoyment; of work that is a steady delight," is the remark which was made by John Muir and quoted by his friend. It suggests a point of view that with all our strenuous interest in life we are likely to miss. Time need not worry us when we are absorbed with the joy which makes us forget time. We become un- mindful either of its dragging or of its flying when we concern our- selves with work that is a steady delight. Every new year, while it lasts, ought to be just as good as eternity for us. We can only live in the present anyway. But we have formed a habit of looking ahead and anticipating the end of our day or our week or our year, and of looking back and regretting the beginning. And we lose a good deal of the passing moments in this rather futile occupation. So far as we know, it might turn out that time is only an illusion anyhow, invented by mortals who are sighing for eternity. The wisest course seems to be to grasp the little section of existence before us that the philos- ophers have such difficulty in defining and live it to the best of our ability for "steady delight." This would really end a lot of our dis- may about the flight and passing of time. ASSIGNMENT 1. Examine and classify the editorials in your envelope. Choose the best of the (1) argumentative, (2) persuasive, and (3) expository types, and discuss their points in class. 2. Finish the editorial of which the opening paragraphs are quoted below. Write about 200 words more: "People are apt to forget that they have noses. Unless they happen to live in the neighborhood of the stockyards, or near a cherry tree which blossoms occasionally, they do not connect their 302 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH nostrils with any of their enjoyments or pains. They never think of classifying things, holidays, for instance, by the discriminating messages conveyed to their brains from their nasal passages. " But however little the subject may be regarded, most of the important festivals have a strong emotional background of odors. The charm of Christmas is reputed to be in the obvious delight of the children, in the gay colors, in the really jolly spirit of giving. Nobody thinks of smelling Christmas." 3. Examine the editorials in a week's issues of your newspaper. List the subject of each, and write opposite it the heading of the news article that suggested it, or the general subject that probably suggested it. If you cannot determine this, note the fact. Then classify your subjects. Compare notes in class discussion, and draw your own conclusions. 4. Write a 200-word editorial on some news item in your paper on which the editor has not already commented. Use either ar- gument or persuasion. 5. Write a 300-word argument on some topic of vital public in- terest. 6. Write an expository editorial (200-300 words) on one of the following topics: Christmas Gifts; Cats vs. Birds; On Getting up Early; Spring Poetry; Strawberries in Midwinter; Celery in Mid- summer; a subject of your own choosing. 7. Convert your editorial into persuasion. 8. Convert it into straight argument. CHAPTER XVII THE SHORT STORY 1. CHARACTERISTICS AND SOURCES THE short story may contain from 2000 to 7000 words; 4000 is about the average. A storiette ranges from 600 to 1000. These space limits tend to fix certain qualities. As a rule, (1) the plot is single; (2) the characters are few; (3) the setting is not changed; and (4) the emotional effect upon the reader is in a single tone that is, humorous, or pathetic, or tragic, or romantic, or grotesque, or exciting. The modern short story tends to be episodic and dramatic. The episode may be little more than an anecdote, a mystery or a problem solved, an amusing or a dramatic crisis passed without greatly affecting the lives of the people involved. Or it may contain the essence of a biography, concentrated and exemplified in a short series of events. In either case, it must be made to "sound true." It may be wildly romantic, utterly impossible; but if it is to "get over," it must be so supported by evidence of actuality that for the time the reader is con- tent to accept it as credible. The material for a short story may be found to-day in any street, in any house, in any life. Every year the magazines exploit new material. We have had the New England spin- ster, the desperado, the cowboy, the Jewish clothing dealer, the commercial traveler, the Chinese laundryman, the grafter, the crook, the sailor, the Pennsylvania Dutchman a hundred phases of the amazingly complex life of our coun- try; and those still untouched are innumerable. But there are, in general, four kinds of sources of material: 303 304 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (1) An accidental plot in life, which needs only re- shaping; (2) A character which suggests a plot as likely to be associated with it; (3) A place which suggests the occurrence of certain events; (4) An idea or principle governing human life, which can be exemplified in story form. Sometimes we find several of these sources together: a char- acter in its setting with a partially developed plot may come into our experience; it may even typify some law in life or principle of human nature. Conversely we may begin with an idea and have to combine plot, characters, and setting from three different sources. This, of course, is far more difficult than to "see" a partially constructed story in the life about us. The most fruitful source of plots is experience; but this may be supplemented by close observation of other lives, by material furnished by other people from their experience, by wide reading in all sorts of books that stimulate ideas, and to some extent from newspapers although news is, by its very nature, abnormal, and cannot appeal widely as being of the very stuff of life. Many popular stories are based upon scientific or psychological facts or theories. The successful short story to-day must grow out of com- mon experience, but must find something new to say about it. The theme must be universal. The old problems in love and war become fresh when they are placed in new scenes, or colored by their environment in the business world. Further, each magazine has its own readers, and its constantly varying policy, which is determined by the need of supplying their tastes with new and up-to-date material. For commer- cial success, it is necessary to follow closely the magazines for which you think you are suited; and to keep your material in line with what they publish. THE SHORT STORY 305 ASSIGNMENT 1. State the probable source of ten of the following stories (i. e., in plot, accidental or invented; in character; in setting; in idea or principle) ; try to read some of those with which you are not familiar: Irving's Rip Van Winkle; Foe's The Purloined Letter, The Gold Bug; Dickens's A Christmas Carol; Kipling's The Brushwood Boy, The Man Who Was, The Bridge-builders, Wireless, The Night Mail, " They "; Conrad's Youth, Heart of Darkness; Stevenson's Markheim, A Lodg- ing for the Night, The Sire de Maletroit's Door; De Maupassant's The Necklace; Morgan Robertson's Fifty Fathoms Down, From the Main Top; Hudson's El Ombu; Mrs. Wharton's The Legend, The Daunt Diana, Kerfol, Xingu; Mrs. Gerould's The Years, The Case of Paramore; Mrs. Freeman's A New England Nun, A Humble Romance, Louisa, The Revolt of "Mother"; Miss Jewett's The White Heron; W. W. Jacobs 's A Change of Treatment, Contraband of War, In Borrowed Plumes; Merrick's The Bishop's Comedy, The Man Who Understood Women, The Suicides in the Rue Sombre; Ambrose Bierce's A Horseman in the Sky, The Middle Toe of Hie Right Foot; O. Henry's A Municipal Report, An Unfinished Story; Algernon Blackwopd's John Silence; Robert Herrick's The Master of the Inn; Wells's The Man Who Could Work Miracles, The Time Machine. 2. Examine the current number of a magazine assigned to you, to discover what you can about its fiction and its readers. In class discussion the dozen leading magazines should be covered. 3. Bring to class an idea for a plot. It may be based upon your own experience, or upon something that you have heard, or upon some scientific fact or principle. After class discussion sum up, in a few words each, the plots that seem to work out best, and file away for future use two or three that attract you. 2. DEVELOPMENT As soon as you have your general plot outline, you will probably ask yourself: Where shall I begin? Where shall I end? By what kinds of episodes shall I make the story move from its beginning to its end? If your story is realistic, and involves no strain upon the reader's credulity, the best way to begin is to plunge at once into an interesting situation, and to get the story moving as 306 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH quickly as possible. But if your story is unusual, romantic, startling, your first task is to gain the reader's confidence; and this you do by means of an introduction, in which you suggest, in every way you can, reasons why the story should be believed. One good way is to begin with extremely matter- of-fact details and by degrees to lead away from them to the incredible. Mr. Wells's The Man Who Could Work Miracles is a good example of this method. From the opening sentence you must have in mind a climax as goal toward which every phase of the story is kept moving. No descriptions, no episodes, no dialogues, however interesting in themselves, should be admitted unless they can be seen to push the story on toward this climax. And the end should follow as soon as possible after the climax; indeed, the anecdotal type of short story is often so telescoped that the climax is in the last sentence. In this case it usually involves a surprise. For instance, in O. Henry's A Little Speck in Garnered Fruit, the plot hinges upon a young hus- band's efforts to get his bride a peach which she had de- manded out of season. He is everywhere offered oranges; but finally succeeds in getting the coveted fruit. The climax and surprise come in the last sentence in which she calmly tells him that after all she would rather have had an orange! In general, it is a good plan to begin without preamble whenever you can, and to stop immediately after the climax. The episodes by which the story is developed must be so logically and closely related that one seems to grow out of another; all should be such as might have happened to the characters chosen; and all should be such as might have occurred in the setting chosen. It is this unification of plot, characters, and setting which gives the impression of reality. You will perhaps realize this better after you have studied the famous story which Guy de Maupassant made about a piece of string. But before you read it, answer the following questions: THE SHORT STORY 307 1. If you saw a rheumatic old man stoop to pick up some- thing from the road, what should you infer? 2. If he tried to keep you from seeing what it was, would your inference be strengthened? 3. If you heard that a pocketbook had just been lost, how would your inference be affected? 4. If you knew that the man was a tricky old body, and if you had a grudge against him, how would your opinion be affected? ' 5. Should you believe him if he declared that all he picked up was a piece of string and showed the string? 6. What would be the effect upon him of the unjust sus- picion that he had picked up the pocketbook? 7. If the pocketbook was found by someone else and re- turned, would the old man necessarily have been cleared? What might have been supposed? Among what kind of people only could such continued suspicion have been har- bored? Because it is necessary to show the narrow lives of the Norman peasants, and their hard, suspicious natures, De Maupassant has a much longer introduction than is now usual; but when the story begins, it moves rapidly and with- out a break to its climax and end. THE PIECE OF STRING On all the roads about Goderville the peasants and their wives were coming to town; for it was market day. The men walked at a steady pace, the whole body thrown forward with each swing of the long, crooked legs. They were deformed by heavy work, by bending over the plow, which raises the left shoulder and distorts the frame, and by reaping, which makes the knees spread in order to get a solid footing, by all the slow and painful toil of the coun- try. Their starched blue blouses, as glossy as if they had been varnished, trimmed on the collar and cuffs with a little pattern in white thread, blew about their bony frames like balloons about to fly away, with a head, two arms and two feet sticking out of each. 308 ^ THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Some of the men led by a rope a cow or a calf. And their wives, coming behind, would beat the flanks of the animals with leafy branches to make them move faster. The women carried on their arms large baskets from which the heads of chickens or ducks peeped out now and then. And they walked with a shorter, quicker step than their husbands. Their straight, wizened figures were covered with scanty little shawls pinned over their flat bosoms; and their heads were bound with white linen that hid the hair, above which they wore caps. Sometimes a country cart went by, drawn by a stiff-jointed farm horse, jolting at every step two men sitting together; and the woman in the bottom of the cart would hold on to the side to keep herself steady. In the marketplace at Goderville there was a great crowd, an indistinguishable mass of men and beasts. The horns of cattle, the tall beaver hats of rich peasants, and the caps of peasant women rose above the level of the throng. And the clamor of voices, sharp and shrill, made a continuous wild roar, dominated now and then by a great laugh from the solid chest of some gay country fellow, or the long lowing of a cow tethered to the wall of a house. It all smelled of the stable. Milk and manure, hay and sweat, blended into that terrible sour smell of man and beast together, which is peculiar to men of the fields. Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, had just arrived at Goderville, and was walking toward the marketplace when he noticed on the ground a little piece of string. Economical as a true Norman always is, he thought anything worth picking up that might be of use; and he stooped with a great effort, for he suffered with rheumatism. He picked up from the ground the bit of thin string, and was pro- ceeding to roll it up with care when he saw Maitre Malandain, the harness-maker, on his doorstep watching him. They had once had some words about a halter which had left them both irritated and resentful. Maitre Hauchecorne felt a kind of shame at being seen by his enemy to pick up out of the mud a bit of string. He hurriedly concealed his find under his blouse, then in his breeches pocket; and afterward pretended still to be looking on the ground for some- thing that he could not find. At last he went on toward the market, his head bent forward, and his body doubled up with rheumatic pains. He was soon lost in the shouting, slow-moving crowd, swayed this way and that in its interminable bargaining. The peasants would examine the cows, would go away, and then return, puzzled, THE SHORT STORY 309 always afraid of being taken in, not daring to make up their minds, but watching every minute the eyes of the seller, and trying to find out how he was cheating them and what was wrong with the animal. The women had placed their great baskets at their feet, and had pulled out the poultry, which now lay on the ground, tied by the legs, with frightened eyes and scarlet combs. With assumed indifference and impassive faces, they would listen to offers but stick to their prices; or perhaps suddenly deciding to accept the bargainer's terms, would call after him as he was slowly moving away: "All right, Mait' Anthime! They are yours." Then little by little the marketplace thinned out, and when the midday bell struck, those who lived at a distance poured into the inns. At Jourdain's the big dining-room was full of people eating, while the great courtyard was full of all sorts of vehicles wagons, gigs, carts, tilburys, nameless conveyances, yellow with mud, mis-shapen, patched up, with their shafts in the air like two arms, or tilted up behind with their noses in the ground. Over against the people seated at the table the immense fireplace, full of clear flame, threw a fierce heat on the backs of those on the right. Three spits were turning, loaded with chickens, pigeons, and saddles of mutton; and the delicious smell of roast meat and of gravy trickling over crisp brown skin, which spread from the hearth, kindled mirth and made mouths to water. All the aristocracy of the plough were eating at the house of Mait' Jourdain, innkeeper and horsetrader, a rogue with the shekels. The dishes passed round and were emptied along with jugs of yellow cider. Everyone talked of business what he had bought and sold. The state of the crops was discussed: the weather was right for green stuff but a trifle damp for the wheat. All at once the roll of a drum was heard in the courtyard before the house. In a second, everybody, except a few indifferent fellows, jumped up and ran to the door or the windows, with his mouth still full and his napkin in his hand. When the town crier had finished his tattoo, he announced in his harsh voice, with all the stops in the wrong places: " Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in general to all persons who were at the market, that there was lost this morning, on the Beuzeville road, between nine and ten o'clock, a black leather pocketbook, containing five hundred francs and some business papers. The finder is requested to return it to the 310 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH town-hall at once, or to Maitre Fortune Houlbreque, of Manneville. He will receive twenty francs reward." Then the crier went away; but the deadened sound of his drum and his faint voice could be heard once again in the distance. Then this affair was talked of, with much weighing of the chances whether Maitre Houlbreque would recover his pocketbook or not. So dinner was finished. They were having coffee when the police sergeant appeared on the threshold and asked: "Is Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, here?" Maitre Hauchecorne, who was sitting at the far end of the table, answered: "Here I am." The sergeant went on: "Maitre Hauchecorne, will you kindly come with me to the town-hall? His Honor, the mayor, wishes to speak to you." The peasant, surprised and uneasy, swallowed his liqueur at a gulp, rose, and more bent even than in the morning for the first steps after sitting a while were always particularly hard followed the sergeant, repeating: "Here I am. Here I am." The mayor sat in an armchair, waiting for him. He was a heavy, solemn man, full of pompous phrases. "Maitre Hauchecorne," he said, "this morning, on the Beuzeville road, some one saw you pick up the pocketbook lost by Maitre Houlbreque, of Manneville." The peasant stared speechless at the mayor, terrified at the sus- picion which had fallen upon him, he knew not why. "Me? me? Saw me pick up that pocketbook?" "Yes, you." "Upon my word, I never knew nothing about it at all." "They saw you." "They saw me? me? Who was it who saw me?" "M. Malandain, the harness-maker." Then the old man remembered and understood, and reddened with fury: "Ah, he saw me that villain? What he saw me pick up, your Honor, was look here this little bit of string." And fumbling in his pocket, he drew out the little piece of cord. But the mayor shook his head, incredulous. "You are not going to make me believe, Maitre Hauchecorne, that M. Malandain, who is a reliable man, took this string for a pocketbook." THE SHORT STORY 311 The peasant, in a rage, lifted his hand and spat by way of attest- ing his honesty, repeating: "All the same, it is God's truth, nothing but the truth, your Honor. Here by my soul and my salvation, I swear it." The mayor continued: "After picking up the thing, you even continued to look about in the mud to see whether some of the money had not dropped out of it." The poor fellow was choking with indignation and fear. "How can they tell! . . . how can they tell . . . lies like that to ruin an honest man! . . . How can they. . . !" It was useless to protest; he was not believed. He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated and held to his statement. They railed at each other for an hour. At his own demand Maitre Hauchecorne was searched; but nothing was found on him. Finally, the mayor, much perplexed, dismissed him with the warning that he was going to inform the public prosecutor, and ask for a warrant. The news had spread. When the old man left the town-hall, he was surrounded and questioned, seriously or jeeringly. But with all the curiosity, there was no indignation. He tried to tell his story about the string. They did not believe him; they simply laughed. He went on his way, stopped by everyone, himself stopping all his acquaintances, repeating again and again his tale and his prot- estations, and showing his pockets turned inside out to prove that there was nothing in them. They said to him: "Get along with you, you old rascal!" He grew angry, exasperated, feverish, desperate at not being be- lieved; and not knowing what to do, he kept telling his story over and over again. Night came. He had to go home. He set out with three neigh- bors to whom he pointed out the place where he had found the bit of string; and all along the road he talked of what had happened to him. That evening he went all round the village of Breaut for the express purpose of telling everybody; but nobody believed him. He was ill of it all night long. About one o'clock the next afternoon, Marius Paumelle, a farm hand of Maitre Breton, market-gardener at Ymauville, returned the pocketbook with its contents to Maitre Houlbreque, of Manne- ville. In fact, the man declared that he had found it on the road, 312 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH but being unable to read, had carried it home and given it to his master. The news spread through the neighborhood; and Maitre Hauche- corne was told. He immediately made the rounds and began to tell his story again, together with its outcome. He was triumph- ant. "What made me feel bad," said he, "was not so much the thing itself, you understand, as the lie. There is nothing that hurts you so much as to be in disgrace because of a lie." All day long he talked of his experience. He told it to people passing along the roads, to people drinking at the tavern, to people as they came out of church the next Sunday. He stopped strangers to tell them about it. His mind was at rest about it now; and still there was something that worried him, although he could not say exactly what it was. People seemed to be amused while they lis- tened to him. They did not seem to be convinced. He seemed to feel them talking behind his back. On Tuesday of the following week, he went to Goderville to the market, for no reason in the world except the need of relating his case. Malandain, standing in his doorway, began to laugh as he saw him go by. Why? He began to tell a farmer of Criquetot, who would not let him finish, but gave him a dig in the pit of his stomach, cried out in his face: "Get along with you, you big rascal!" and turned on his heel. Maitre Hauchecorne stood without a word, more and more un- easy. Why had he been called a "big rascal"? As he sat at table at Jourdain's, he tried again to explain the matter; but a horse-dealer from Montivilliers shouted at him: "Come, come, you old scamp! I know all about that your piece of string!" Hauchecorne stammered: "Seeing that they found it that pocketbook!" But the other man retorted: "Shut up, daddy, sometimes there's one to find it, and one to bring it back. Unseen's unknown; I've got you!" The peasant sat choking; at last he understood. They accused him of sending back the pocketbook by a pal an accomplice. When he tried to protest, the whole table roared. He could not finish his dinner, and in a chorus of jeers he went away. He went home, ashamed and indignant, stifled with rage, with THE SHORT STORY 313 dismay, the more dumbfounded in that, with his Norman cunning, he was capable of doing what he was accused of, and even of boasting about it as a good trick. It seemed to him in his confused state of mind that it would be impossible to prove his innocence, his trick- iness being so well-known. And he was struck to the heart by the injustice of the suspicion. Then he began once more to relate his mishap, making his story longer every day, adding each time new reasons, more vigorous protests, oaths more solemn than he was aware, which he thought up in his hours of solitude, his mind obsessed solely by the story of the string. But the more complicated he made his defense, and the more subtle his arguments, the less he was believed. "That is the way a liar talks," they said behind his back. He felt this, and it preyed upon his mind; he wore himself out in his useless efforts. He grew visibly weaker. It became a joke to get him to tell about " The Piece of String," just as a soldier who has been through a campaign is made to talk about his battles. But his spirit was struck at its root, and he gradually failed. Toward the end of December he took to his bed, and he died early in January. In the delirium of the death agony, he still declared his innocence, saying again and again: "A little bit of string ... a little bit of string . . . see, here it is, your Honor." As you see, this story moves with unbroken logic from the unstable situation created by the picking up of the string to the inevitable outcome, the old man's death. The plot com- plication grows out of his character, and the character of Malandain and of all the people in the neighborhood. This is, of course, the type of story in which a life history is summed up. Most of the stories of Howells, and James, and of Mrs. Wharton, Mrs. Gerould, Mrs. Freeman, and Miss Jewett are of this kind. In the anecdotal type, which may be a story of mystery or adventure, or an amusing or dramatic crisis in life, the plot complication depends much more upon circumstances. In mystery stories especially, setting is likely to be ma- chinery. 314 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT 1. Write a careful abstract in 150-200 words of the incidents in The Piece of String. Discuss in class the closeness of their relation- ship. 2. Copy the opening and concluding paragraphs of six stories by good writers. Discuss in class what the intervening episodes may have been. Do not take part in the discussion in cases where you have read the story. 3. Write a story of about 500 words developing the incidents sug- gested by the following opening : "It was half past twelve in the morning and a cold night. I was almost frozen. I took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon the sand, barefoot and beating my breast with infinite weariness. There was no sound of man or cattle. Not a cock crew. I heard only the surf breaking in the distance. By the sea that hour in the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, I had a kind of fear. In all the books which I have read of people cast away, they had either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of things thrown up on the beach with them. I had nothing in my pockets but money and Aleck's silver button." Robert Louis Stevenson. 4. Bring to class a 100-word abstract of a magazine story, in- dicating the climax. Discuss the choice and treatment of episodes. 5. On the basis of the various experiences with ghosts which have been told to you as authentic, outline in class, each member contributing, a plot for a ghost story. Try to make it different from the usual type. 3. POINT OF VIEW Every short story must be written from a single, clearly- defined point of view. It may be that of the hero or heroine, or of some minor character, or of the author who assumes for the time the power to know everything that is done, said, or thought, within the limits of his material. There are two ways of telling a story from the point of view of the hero or heroine: One of the principal characters may tell the story in the first person; or the author may so identify himself with a principal character that the story is seen from that person's point of view. THE SHORT STORY 315 Both these methods involve the difficulty that one person cannot be supposed to know many details that the reader must learn in the development of the plot. Hence there is no way of introducing such details without changing the point of view. The autobiographical method involves the further difficulty in characterization that the speaker must resort to indirect methods to awaken the reader's interest; self-praise is impossible. The use of a minor character meets the second difficulty, in that the narrator can be an admirer of the hero, as, for instance, Watson in the Sherlock Holmes stories. But a minor character is in no better position than the hero or heroine to know all the plot. For this reason he is particularly useful as narrator in a mystery story, where the reader shares his bewilderment until at the end the author introduces some new element that explains everything. The fourth method that of assumed omniscience is much easier to manage; but it does not have the convincing effect of coming straight from life that the others have. In some cases, the point of view is determined by the mate- rial ; and usually one is decidedly to be preferred to all others. For instance, in Mr. Jacobs's A Change of Treatment, the plot is this: a sea captain afflicts his crew with his amateur knowl- edge of medicine. One of the crew happens upon a second- hand medical book and learns from it a list of symptoms which he reels off to the skipper and is sent to bed. Several others follow his example. But while they are enjoying the delicacies of invalids, the mate, who sees through their trick, mixes a medicine out of all the horrible things he can think of, and persuades the captain to let him dose the men with it. The men get well abruptly ! This story is told by a night- watchman, who had been one of the crew. He was thus in a position to know what the men did, and what the mate did; and from the beginning he lets the reader into the joke. 316 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT 1. What is the point of view in The Piece of String? Retell the story orally from the two other points of view. 2. List five short stories that you remember, and write opposite each the point of view. Suggest for class discussion other possible points of view for each, and decide why they were rejected by the author. 3. Choose one of the following stories and outline it as changed by substituting the point of view suggested below: (1) Stevenson's The Sire de Maletroit's Door the girl's point of view; (2) Miss Wilkins's A New England Nun Dagget's point of view; (3) Irving's Rip Van Winkle Rip's point of view; (4) O. Henry's A Municipal Report the negro's point of view; (5) Kipling's The Man Who Would be King the omniscient point of view. If you have not read any of these stories, substitute another after consultation with your instructor as to choice and change hi point of view. 4. Decide which of the stories listed on p. 305 could not have been written from any other point of view than the one chosen. 4. CHARACTERS In a short story the characters should be as few as pos- sible, and sharply distinguished from one another. The reader does not have time either to learn to know more than half a dozen persons, or to make fine distinctions among characters. A short story usually needs one or two persons for whose fortunes the reader's sympathies are sought and one or two who create the obstacles in the plot. If minor characters are needed for any purpose, they should either be limited to two or three, or should form a group a sort of chorus of which the members need not be described as individuals. The ideal in characterization is that every touch should at the same time further the plot. As in life, action should grow out of character, and character should be revealed in THE SHORT STORY 317 action. It is not necessary to introduce a person with an explanation; let him appear as a character appears on the stage and explain himself, as the story progresses, by his words and actions, by his look and manner in various circumstances, by his effect on other people, and by the effect of other people on him. In so far as description of personal appearance and direct exposition of character are necessary, they should be intro- duced as incidental touches, mainly in the form of phrases or subordinate clauses, with only here and there a short sen- tence; they should rarely, if ever, be used in solid blocks. These give at best a confused impression, and often se- riously interfere with interest by stopping the movement of the story. The one essential in characterization is, that the people should seem alive. Their lifelikeness will depend upon two things: the accuracy of the writer's observations of details in life that reveal character; and the degree to which he suc- ceeds in projecting his own personality into each of his figures in turn so that the details combine into a unified conception. It is doubtful whether any character is ever drawn from life without alteration; in most cases, a character is a composite in which the writer builds upon his own basic understanding of human nature, derived from study of himself, a combina- tion of special qualities which he obtains from observation of other people. These qualities may all come from one person; in that case the character is said to be drawn from life. Or they may be taken from several sources and welded by imagination. In such a case the writer must continually ask himself, not "What did this man actually do under such circumstances?" but "What would such a person as I have in mind do under such circumstances?" Both his own expe- rience and his observation of others will help him to decide. In presenting character, remember that direct exposition (pp. 213f .) should be avoided whenever some indirect method 318 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH can be made to do the work. The following suggestions may be useful: 1. Try in the first place to make your principal characters such as would credibly become involved in the action of the story. If Hauchecorne had not been economical, he would not have picked up the string; if he had not been tricky, the suspicion would not have clung to him. 2. In every episode needed for the plot, ask yourself: Does this show character? Can it be made to show character? Hauchecorne would not have got into trouble if Malandain had not seen him; true, but if he had not been the kind of man he was, he would not have minded having Malandain see him, and he would not have acted in the manner that roused his enemy's suspicion. 3. In relating an episode, remember that there are innu- merable ways of performing the same action, many of which reveal character. Try to keep before the reader manner and gesture as well as action. 4. In writing dialogue remember that people are judged both by what they say and by their way of saying it. 5. The effect of one person upon another is especially useful as it reveals two characters at once. Note that in a story all these methods, together with bits of description of dress and personal appearance, are com- monly found in combination, so that it is only by analysis that we can see the function of each in the character draw- ing. In the following passage, a woman has become a typical "old maid" while waiting for the man to whom she is en- gaged to make money enough for them to marry. She has just received a visit from him. We have been told that she wears a white apron for company, a pink one when she is alone sewing, and a green gingham when she does her house- work: She tied on the pink, then the green apron, picked up all the scattered treasures (he had upset her workbasket) and replaced THE SHORT STORY 319 them in her workbasket, and straightened the rug. Then she set the lamp on the floor, and began sharply examining the carpet. She even rubbed her fingers over it, and looked at them. "He's tracked in a good deal of dust," she murmured. "I thought he must have." Louisa got a dust-pan and brush, and swept Joe Dagget's track carefully. Mary E. Willrins Earlier in the same story a little incident shows their effect upon each other, and the impossibility ~of their being happy together: Presently Dagget began fingering the books on the table. There was a square red autograph album, and a Young Lady's Gift-Book which had belonged to Louisa's mother. He took them up one after the other and opened them; then laid them down again, the album on the Gift-Book. Louisa kept eying them with mild uneasiness. Finally, she rose and changed the position of the books, putting the album under- neath. That was the way they had been arranged in the first place. Dagget gave an awkward little laugh. "Now what difference did it make which book was on top?" said he. Louisa looked at him with a deprecating smile. "I always keep them that way," murmured she. "You do beat everything," said Dagget, trying to laugh again. His large face was flushed. In these two slight incidents we have the character of the man and of the woman shown as clearly as by any possible device. The naming of characters is important. Commonplace and highly romantic names should alike be avoided. It is essential that the name should sound as if it belonged to a real person, and at the same time it is desirable that it suggest rather more of his character than real names usually do; and the two parts of the name should seem to belong together. Sound, rhythm, and suggestion should all be considered in choosing names. For instance, " Laura Glyde" could not be bettered for its combination of the three qualities as a name for a soulful young woman who talks art without understand- ing what she says. 320 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH It is a good plan to keep a list of real names, together with hints of the characters of their owners, as far as these are known or guessed. You will see names in newspapers, in catalogues and indexes, in advertising signs; and hear them from people whom you meet. It is usually advisable to change the combination slightly. ASSIGNMENT 1. What methods of characterization are used in The Piece of String? 2. Make a careful study on cards of the methods of characteriza- tion used in a story by Mary Wilkins-Freeman, Edith Wharton, Katherine Fullerton Gerould, or some other writer whose char- acterization is said by your instructor to be especially effective. 3. Criticize the following names; tell what kind of character each suggests; and, if you can, indicate the kind of plot with which each should be associated: Peter Rodright; Polly Periwinkle; Caroline Toplady; Hilary O'Hallaran; Abner Dawson; Matilda Bunker; Harriet Pratt; Tim Simpson; Dulcie Darling. 4. Write a story of 500 words, using the following plot: A young doctor who is unable to work up a practice in a town in which he has settled, advertises that on a certain day he will go to the cemetery and raise the dead. On the day set he goes to the cemetery and finds most of the town there. He at once addresses someone stand- ing near, asking: "Well, whom shall I bring back for you?" For one reason or another, he is unable to find anybody who is willing to experiment. If one person suggests a name, someone else imme- diately objects. You will at once think of reasons why in each case that would necessarily be so. Sketch about six characters, three who wish to have someone brought back, and three who ob- ject. Note also that you will be also characterizing by effect the dead persons. Invent an ending for the story. 5. Work up the plot that you discussed in section 1 (p. 305) into a 500-word story. 5. SETTING The setting or scene of a story may be used in three ways: (1) as mere background the action must happen some- THE SHORT STORY 321 where; (2) as explanation of the action, either directly, or indirectly by helping to interpret the characters; and (3) as part of the machinery of the story. When the setting is mere background, the less said about it the better; it is as necessary as the background of a picture, but should be kept inconspicuous. When the setting serves to explain either the plot or the characters, it must be distributed throughout the story by multitudes of incidental touches, as if the place itself were a character. If the atmosphere of the place is at once distinc- tive and unfamiliar, much more description is needed than if it is a type of place found in many parts of the world and familiar to many people. But even when it needs extensive interpretation, this should be diffused, rather than lumpy. The reader, instead of trying to assimilate a host of new im- pressions at once, will receive them bit by bit, and the effect of them will be cumulative as the story advances. When the setting is also machinery, there is usually little plot, and by means of descriptive-narration the setting is made to dominate the story. In Stevenson's The Merry Men, a whirlpool is in this sense the chief character; in Morgan Robertson's Fifty Fathoms Down, the interior of a submarine; in Kipling's The Ship that Found Herself, the parts of a ship and the wind and waves. In beginning to write, you should make it a fixed rule never to write about any place unless you are thoroughly familiar with it; faked local color obtained from books is rarely suc- cessful or convincing. But in dealing with this familiar material, try to get a new aspect of it that will make it more vivid and interesting. No locality is too commonplace to be converted into setting. The names of large cities may be used, but for small towns fictitious names should be supplied. Like character names, they should suggest the nature of the place that they rep- resent. 322 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT 1. What use is made of setting in The Piece of String? 2. Find in some good current magazine a story in which setting is almost lacking; copy the few touches that you find, and discuss in class the different methods used in these extracts. 3. Study carefully the use of setting in a story by one of the following authors: Mary Wilkins-Freeman; Sarah Orne Jewett; Ambrose Bierce; W. W. Jacobs; Arthur Morrison; Joseph Conrad; Rudyard Kipling. 4. Outline a plot in which setting is used as machinery. You may use one of the following situations: (1) An explorer in an unknown country; (2) A sea-captain in a fog; (3) A murderer in a haunted house; (4) An inventor who cannot solve his problem. 5. Write in about 500 words a story on the general plan of The Piece of String, using to explain your characters some setting with which you are familiar. 6. DIALOGUE Good dialogue is not a realistic report of real conversation; it is conversation telescoped one sentence made to serve where a dozen might be used in life : "Tis Easter Day," said Mrs. McCree. "Scramble mine," said Danny. 0. Henry. These five words tell us all we need to know about Danny's attitude toward Easter. The secret of dialogue is to find the speeches that are at once dynamic in the action and characteristic of the speakers, and to make these as true to life as possible. Mere trivial talk, however photographically accurate, only dilutes the significant. The chief device for securing naturalness is the elliptical sentence. Here is a scrap of talk between two friends : "Pipe?" "Got a cigar; try one!" "Thanks." THE SHORT STORY 323 This is the way people talk. If you complete the sentences* you get book-talk at once. In the following bit of dialogue are concentrated a sum- mary of events that preceded the story, a foreshadowing of the development of the plot, and characterization of the two speakers: "Yes," said Roger, "she's a good-lookin' woman, that wife of Soames's. I'm told they don't get on." " She'd no money," replied Nicholas. "What was her father?" "Heron was his name, a Professor, so they tell me." Roger shook his head. "There's no money in that," he said. "They say her mother's father was cement." Roger's face brightened. "But he went bankrupt," went on Nicholas. "Ah," exclaimed Roger, "Soames will have trouble with her; you mark my words, he'll have trouble. " Galsworthy In a dramatic climax, the emotional effect is enormously intensified by condensed dialogue; words interfere. The fol- lowing passage is an extreme instance of laconic speech under strong emotion: "Did you fire?" the sergeant whispered. "Yes." "At what?" "A horse. It was standing on yonder rock pretty far out. You see it's no longer there. It went over the cliff." The man's face went white, but he showed no other sign of emo- tion. Having answered, he turned away his eyes and said no more. The sergeant did not understand. "See here, Druse," he said after a moment's silence, "it's no use making a mystery. I order you to report. Was there anybody on the horse? " "Yes." "Well?" "My father." 324 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH The sergeant rose to his feet and walked away. "Good God!" he said. Ambrose Bierce. The man had been compelled by his duty as sentry to shoot his own father. The general rule for brevity, however, must yield when necessary to the demands of characterization. If a speaker is wordy or formal, his sentences must show it. Illiteracy, slang, and dialect should be suggested by a touch here and there, rather than reproduced in detail. An elaborate reproduction may be obscure, or even unintelligible; and the difficulty of making it out lessens the reader's in- terest. If you read the plays of J. M. Synge, you will see how well Irish modes of speech can be suggested by the mere arrangement of sentences and the occasional use of an Irish word or idiom; the elaborate misspelling affected by some writers is unnecessary and disturbing. To get material for dialogue, you must listen to conversa- tion wherever you go. It is a good plan to have a notebook, and to take down from memory, verbatim, if possible, in- teresting talk. To learn how to choose and to condense for the purpose, you must read widely and closely the work of expert writers. O. Henry is admirable in this respect, except that his slang is now out of date. E. F. Benson, in his Dolly Dialogues, is especially good for repartee. The advice is often given to avoid the continual use of said, and long lists of synonyms are suggested. The remedy sug- gested is worse than the disease; some magazine writers to- day represent their characters as distorting their features and their speech in a continual process of snapping, droning, hiss- ing, flashing, blurting, chirping, tittering, whining, yawning, etc. Such words are occasionally useful, but they soon at- tract attention to themselves. It is well to keep the verb of saying unobtrusive; and when there are only two speakers, to introduce it only at intervals to keep the order of the speakers clear. THE SHORT STORY 325 ASSIGNMENT 1. In one of the stories that you have read recently, study the dialogue in detail. Discuss whether it might be cut to advantage here and there; show where it furthers the plot, and where it char- acterizes. Study the use of said and other introductory words. 2. Make a list from current magazines of stories in which slang, dialect, and bad English are a feature. Discuss in class the current use and abuse of these features. 3. Take down verbatim an overheard conversation. In class discuss how it would have to be altered for use in a story. 7. TITLE The title should awaken curiosity or interest, and lead people to read the story; this is the only essential require- ment. It should also suggest the emotional tone of the story; the reader in quest of amusement does not wish to be misled into reading tragedy. As a rule, it is well to have a short title; yet The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde overcame this handicap by its suggestion of mystery. Again, a title should be easily pronounced and remembered; yet the magazine which aims to meet the taste of the average man published The Brachycephalic Bohunkus, which probably succeeded by going to the opposite extreme, being for the ordinary man almost unpronounceable and quite meaningless. The one quality to be avoided is tameness, literalness, commonplaceness. The Love Story of Lily Gray, Gwen- dolen's Romance, A Tale of Love and War titles of this type suggest nothing. On the other hand, the name of the hero or heroine may supply a good title if the name itself is suggestive of a distinct type of character; such names as Charles Harris or Clara Cobb would not excite much interest. ASSIGNMENT 1. Criticize the following titles: The Lady or the Tiger?; Orgeas and Miradou; The Bottle Imp; Marjorie Daw; The Silent In/are; The 326 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Bounty-Jumper; Miss Willett; Xingu; The Revolt of "Mother"; Making Port; "Ice Water PI "; Half -past Ten; Life; The Gate of a Hundred Sorrows; The Weaver who Clad the Summer; Little Souls; Strictly Business; A Municipal Report; While the Auto Waits; The Theory and the Hound; Suite Homes and their Romances; Sociology in Serge and Straw; A Newspaper Story; A Matter of Mean Elevation; Supers; Heart of Youth; In Borrowed Plumes; T. B.; Whose Dog f; Penance; The Boarded Window; Cain's Atonement; By Water; The Courting of Dinah Shadd; "They"; The Tragedy of a Comic Song; An Elaborate Elopement. 2. Examine half a dozen current magazines and list the titles which you consider most successful. Discuss these in class. 8. GENERAL EXERCISES IN THE SHORT STORY 1. Invent a plot from the following suggestions: (1) A clerk begins after dinner to tell his wife about a new suit that the manager is wearing. He goes to the drugstore to buy a five-cent cigar, and is gone half an hour. When he returns, he finishes his sentence by saying that it is a pepper-and salt mixture. In the half hour he has had an Arabian Nights adventure. (2) A well-dressed girl and a quiet-looking young man meet in the park and become acquainted by accident. She refers to her automobile waiting round the corner; he confesses that he works in the restaurant across the street. When she rises to go, he wishes to escort her to her car, but she bids him not follow her. Work out a plot introducing a surprise. After you have finished, read O. Henry's While the Auto Waits. 2. Develop the following to its logical outcome. There should be three more meetings with people, each involving a change of procedure, and the last should be a climax of absurdity: PLEASING EVERYBODY It was old Pat and young Paddy who were driving their donkey Bran along the muddy road to Limerick market. Old Pat hobbled hard, being weak in the joints, and young Paddy limped with a sore foot, but Bran was as plump as a sack of wheat, and as fine a creature as ever four hoofs took to market. Presently they met an old tramp with his little red bundle on his shoulder, plodding from workhouse to workhouse. Says he, "The like of that I for one never saw! A weak old man and a limp- ing young man, and between the two of them an able-bodied beast with his nose in the air!" THE SHORT STORY 327 "I never thought of that before," says old Pat; and he hoisted himself on Bran's back, and the three of them went on peaceably together. 3. Write a 500-word story about one of the following situations: (1) An old bachelor who has found a baby on his doorstep; (2) A woman who decides one day to tell the truth and the whole truth to everybody whom she meets; (3) A literary man who is so absent-minded that he forgets to buy clothes when he needs them and never knows what he is wearing; (4) One of your own invention. 4. Discuss in class various ways of developing a story from the following situation, and write in 500 words the one that appeals to you: On the pavement in front of the brilliantly lighted entrance to a theater, a young man stood watching the playgoers as they streamed out. Many of them returned his stare with interest, not so much because he was tall and distinguished in appearance, though he would have attracted attention anywhere, as because he was wearing a long coat of priceless sables. Turning abruptly, he almost knocked over a wretched-looking woman with a baby in her arms. "Oh, sir," she gasped, as he steadied her to keep her from falling, "you couldn't help a poor woman, could you? I haven't a penny in the world!" "No, I can't" said he pleasantly. "That's my case exactly." CHAPTER XVIII THE PLAY OF the innumerable people who go to the theater, very few have any clear understanding of what a play is, or how it is presented, or how it is constructed. In its purpose every play is expository; it explains, through the medium of real men and women moving and talking on a stage which imitates as closely as possible an actual scene, the working of some principle in human life. The phrasing of this particular principle in the case of each play constitutes the theme of the play. All tragic themes are drawn from that aspect of life which shows a person, usually of a strong, heroic type, in battle either with external forces people or circumstances or with opposing elements in his own nature, or with both. Melodrama is not drawn from life at all; but its themes all grow out of the false philosophy that right always conquers wrong. The themes of comedy are drawn from every non-tragic aspect of life; they include all sorts of principles found in the development of character, in the various relationships of life; they cannot be reduced to a single philosophy, unless it be that all complications and en- tanglements are capable of a happy solution. In comedy proper, the complications are closely associated with char- acter presented realistically, romantically, satirically, hu- morously but in farce, the extreme form of comedy, the entanglement is always due to circumstances, and the treat- ment is purely comic. In its process the play may be described as syncopated narration narration in which the thread of the story is carried on by means of the dialogue itself, together with the 328 THE PLAY 329 facial expressions, gestures, and actions of the persons on the stage. This you will see at once by turning to a modern play intended to be read as well as acted; there you will find among the stage directions long passages of narration and description, which serve to link the speeches together. Such passages are not needed in an acted play, where the make-up and acting do the work of narration and description. The stage directions of Bernard Shaw, Granville Barker, John Galsworthy, Sir James Barrie, and their followers, contain so much narrative and descriptive material as almost to de- mand a special name as a new type of writing. The theme of a play is explained by means of plot. Dra- matic plot, like plot in narration which is not syncopated, consists of a series of unstable situations which pass through various changes but come to rest only at the end of the last act. The material, however, for dramatic plot, is somewhat strictly limited by practical considerations; many settings are impossible even with all the ingenious mechanical con- trivances known to-day; too many changes of scene and too long lapses of time disconcert and confuse the audience; and too many characters have the same effect. Dramatic plot must be concentrated; it cannot often successfully concern more than twenty people, and it usually works with less than a dozen; it changes the scene often enough to give variety, but avoids too much geographical swing. A play that moves half round the world in its scenes must have some source of strong interest to counterbalance its geographical distrac- tions. The drama in its prime under Queen Elizabeth organized its plots in such a way that modern criticism has summed them up as consisting of five distinct acts, which correspond roughly to five distinct dramatic movements: 1. The introduction, in which the exposition of the un- stable situation out of which the others grow is set forth. 2. The rise of the action in which something has happened 330 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH to change the opening situation, and we see the conflict (in the tragedy) or the complication (in the comedy) under way. The event that precipitates the rise is sometimes called the inciting force. 3. The climax the moment of strain or complication in which the audience feels the death-grip of the antagonists in the tragedy, or the complete mystification or despair of solution in the comedy. It is the moment before the move- ment toward the tragic or the happy ending is initiated. 4. The fall, the movement of the play toward its tragic or happy solution. Sometimes in tragedy this is held back for a moment called the final suspense for the purpose of gaining momentary relief and momentum toward a swift tragic conclusion. 5. The conclusion, the situation of temporary stability (or in tragedy final stability) at which the play is stopped. In comedy this is also called the resolution, the denouement, or untying of the knot. It is not to be supposed that these movements usually correspond exactly to the five acts of the play. The Intro- duction may be very short, and the rise begin early in Act I; the fall may begin in Act III; and other variations occur. But in a general way the five acts check off the de- velopment of the plot as suggested above. Macbeth is reg- ular in its structure: the exposition explains Macbeth 's position, and the rise begins in act I, scene iii, in which the witches prophesy that he will be king; the climax is reached in act III, scene 4 where Banquo is killed; and the fall begins with the escape of Fleance in that same scene; the resolution comes when Macduff enters with Macbeth's head at the end of the last act. The second part of a play so constructed is necessarily less interesting than the first; after the climax is passed, the audience becomes impatient for the end. Consequently, the fourth and fifth acts came to be telescoped into one, and the THE PLAY 331 four-act play developed. Particularly noticeable is the cut- ting at the very end. The long explanations of the old plays were first reduced to the assembling of all the characters at the last moment; then this was omitted, and to-day they do not come together to bow to the audience until after the cur- tain has ended the play. Besides the four-Act play, arose the three-act play; and we have now even two-act plays, while the one-act play has become especially popular, several being used together to form an evening's entertainment. The one-act play is the presentation and resolution of a single dramatic crisis. The rise and fall are telescoped; there is only the briefest introduction; the whole attention of the audience is focussed upon the central situation. Very few characters are used sometimes only two or three. The setting does not change, and is usually very simple, though it may be highly original. Characterization in a play proceeds by the same general methods as characterization in a story; but they are differ- ently applied. Nearly all description is given in stage direc- tions. Rarely, one character can be made to describe another. The exposition of traits is almost entirely by means of ex- pression, gesture, and actions. Habits can be shown by personal appearance, dress, all sorts of personal idiosyn- crasies, and by the effect produced upon others. Fundamen- tal traits are shown by spontaneous words and actions, and by response to the words and actions of other characters. The chief difficulties in character drawing are in showing the action and reaction of two persons upon each other, and still keeping them sharply differentiated; in showing the in- teractions among a group, and still keeping each member distinct; and in showing the development of character as the plot develops. This last is possible only when the play covers a considerable period of time, and is rarely attempted to any elaborate extent to-day. But the exposition of characters in 332 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH relationship is an essential feature of all drama; and in at- tempting this, a writer is sure to fail unless he has the power of projecting his personality into one character after another much as an actor may play one part after another. The requirements of setting are that it shall arrange for the exits and entrances of a number of people with probability and propriety, and for their grouping 6n the stage with an effect of reality, and shall provide them scope and materials for the various kinds of actions involved in the plot. In the play, even more than in the story, it is important that every speech should mean something or "get some- where" preferably both. In Mr. Shaw's and Mr. Barker's plays every speech means something; but a large proportion of them do not visibly forward the action. In Mr. Gals- worthy's plays, on the other hand, almost every speech "gets somewhere" with the plot, and most of the speeches interpret character as well. This difference is one of ideal rather than of merit; that is, Bernard Shaw cultivates a type of drama which is little more than brilliant dialogue, full of meaning but almost without movement. This, however, is a very different thing from confusing dialogue as the vital part of drama with a mere series of conversations on the stage. Long, rhetorical, explanatory speeches will doom a good play to failure. The dialogue must be highly elliptical, much broken up among the characters so that all shall have some- thing to say, and dynamic with hints of character and fore- shadowings of the development of the action. The attempt to write the one-act play is valuable practice for the student. It should be preceded by the study of plays by successful modern dramatists. The following are par- ticularly recommended: Galsworthy's Justice and The Silver Box are both long plays, but admirable for the study of technique. Barrie's Rosalind and The Twelve-Pound Look are one-act plays, especially interesting for their characterization and THE PLAY 333 humor, and also for their treatment of stage directions. They suggest, more than the Galsworthy plays, the way to write a play which is to be read as well as acted. Lord Dunsany's volume of Five Plays includes both long and short plays. They are noteworthy for the suggestive bareness of their dialogue. The study of them would tend to counteract wordiness. Synge's Riders to the Sea and The Shadow of the Glen are valuable as showing the possibility of writing poetic drama to-day. They can scarcely be imitated; but should prove stimulating to efforts in other directions. Cannan's Mary's Wedding suggests a simple treatment of a subject of strong human appeal. If you attempt the one-act play, the following hints may be useful: 1. Try to find a situation of deep emotional appeal or obvious humor, which could yet enter into the experience of many people. The reading and seeing of plays will cultivate a sense for such situations. 2. Use as few characters as possible. 3. Keep your setting as simple as possible, but try to in- troduce some feature not found in every play. Try to get away from the stock properties, at the same time remember- ing the limitations of stage carpentry. Draw a plan of your stage with its properties, and move pins about on it to show the positions of your characters as the play progresses. In this way you at once become aware of absurdities. It is still better to use dolls in a toy theater. 4. Remember the power of restraint and the effect of sug- gestion. Accomplish as much as you can by means of action; let the words be rather the accompaniment than the means of transmission in your plot. 5. Simplicity, originality, and drive, these make a good combination. Remember that the audience has paid its money, and is waiting to be interested. 334 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 6. Act the play mentally. Conceive yourself to be playing each of the parts in turn, and ask yourself: What should I say or do now? How should I say it or do it? How should I look when I say it or do it? The more you can actually go through the external motions, the more likely you are to make your characters vivid, and to keep them distinct. 7. Begin abruptly, and work in your situation clearly but as briefly as possible; and end with equal abruptness. Do not go beyond your last effective sentence. ASSIGNMENT 1. After class discussion of plays which have been assigned for reading, write in about 100 words a summary of the plot develop- ment of the one in which you were most interested. 2. Make a similar study in about 200 words of the characteriza- tion and setting of another. 3. Compare in about 300 words the dialogue of Shaw, Galsworthy, Dunsany, and Synge. 4. Discuss the possibility of dramatizing The Piece of String. Show where the play would be weak and where strong. Decide where the scene must be laid, what characters should be used; and then see whether you can make a plan that will overcome the dramatic difficulties. Do not attempt to write the play. 5. Write on a subject of your own choosing a one-act play which can be given in about 15 minutes. If you cannot develop it, make full notes for the plot, setting, characters, and suggestions for dialogue. Do not forget that stage directions are necessary and must be explicit. CHAPTER XIX THE SHORT PAPER 1. PLAN THE kind of writing which, aside from letters, most of you will practise is the short paper, for publication in magazine or periodical, for presentation before an audience, or for prac- tical use with some committee or individual. In such papers the process is almost always fundamentally expository or argumentative; but description or narration, or both, ac- cording to the nature of the subject, are largely used as auxiliary. For convenience of treatment, we shall group such papers under three heads: 1. The Informative Article. 2. The Essay or Study. 3. The Propaganda Paper or Speech. The first condition of success in a short paper is an outline that is a real skeleton of the body of thought presented. The degree to which the outline should appear in the finished product depends upon the nature of the paper; but the process of "thinking through" a subject before attempting to write upon it is rarely omitted even, by practised writers. The amateur must go further he must set down in outline form the movement of his thought from its first step to its last; and he must keep this outline before him as he writes. If it is easy to make, then the making of it takes almost no time, and frequent reference to it keeps the pen from straying off the point. If it is difficult to make, then the need for it is imperative. 335 336 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH You began to study outlining in connection with the par- agraph, and noted a special application of it in the brief. Before beginning to practise writing these different types of papers, note and apply the following suggestions; 1. Always complete your outline before you begin to write. 2. Refer to your outline at every step of the thought. Otherwise, why should you have gone to the trouble of mak- ing it? 3. Do not hesitate to revise it if, as you write, your thinking suggests a better organization. 4. Always keep your outline and your paper in harmony. Your paper will not be as good as it might be if you neglect to reconstruct your outline whenever you see a better way of developing your subject; or if, having an admirable out- line, you allow your paragraphs to drift away from it. 5. For a paper of 1000 words or less, carry your outline into such detail that it shows the subordination of subheads down to the single paragraph. Unless you do this, you will almost certainly have momentary aberrations of thought which produce paragraphs like excrescences, out of all pro- portion to the main trend of thought, or not belonging to it at all. 6. In your outline express the relationships of heads and subheads by letters and figures that show at a glance which parts of the subject are parallel and of equal importance, and which are subordinate. The main mechanical feature is that headings of the same grade should be indicated through- out the outline in the same manner. For example, it would be very confusing to mark your first main head with an A and your second with the Roman numeral II, or your second subhead with b and your third with 3. A simple and clear method of indicating the relationships of the parts of an out- line is the following: (Note that the analysis is very incom- plete, and that the analysis of only one subhead is fully developed.) THE SHORT PAPER 337 THE MAKE-UP OF THE AMERICAN NEWSPAPER A. News matter I. News items a. Foreign b. National c. Domestic, but not local d. Local 1. Crimes 2. Accidents 3. Political events 4. Social events 5. Meetings of organizations, etc. 6. Church events 7. Amusements,etc. II. Special articles a. Interviews b. Expanded news items III. Criticisms a. Books b. Drama and moving pictures c. Music d. Art IV. Advice columns a. Health b. Physical culture c. Cooking d. Fashions e. Investments, etc. V. Correspondence VI. Editorials B. Advertisements I. Display (analyzed) H. Class (analyzed) III. Disguised 338 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Under A, I subhead d is analyzed rather than a, b, or c because these necessarily vary widely from day to day. Crimes can be subdivided into Murder, Robbery, Theft, Arson, etc., making another set of subheads to be marked (a), (b), (c), etc. There should never be a single subhead. If you have an apple, you either keep it whole, or cut into two or more parts; and so you should deal w r ith a subject. The habit of writing a single subhead grows out of loose thinking jotting down detached memoranda as a basis for a paper, without giving due care to their exact relationship. As a short paper may include two, three, or even all four of the processes of writing, your outline may show a similar variety; that is, it may, perhaps, not be constructed on the principle of time alone, t>r of place alone, or of reason alone, but on several of these principles combined and shown by the form of the outline itself to stand in vital relationship to one another and to the subject. There is no better way to learn how to organize material in a paper than to study tables of contents of short and well- organized text-books in science and history. It is a good plan even to copy several of these* of different types, with great care to reproduce the exact organization of heads and sub- heads. More difficult but also more valuable is practice in reproducing the outlines on which successful published articles have been constructed. Two mechanical points should be mentioned in regard to the outline: 1. A single capital beginning the first word is sufficient to distinguish the heads, and no punctuation mark is needed at the end. The indention should advance gradually to the right. 2. The heads may be expressed either topically or in sen- tences; but as it is easier to make parallel topics than to construct parallel sentences, it is perhaps well at first to use THE SHORT PAPER 339 the topic form as far as it is practicable. When sentences are necessary, as in the brief, great care should be taken to construct them in parallel form, as any variation tends to obscure the thought relation. All heads and subheads pre- ceded by the same type of letter or numeral should be in the same form. ASSIGNMENT 1. Examine the tables of contents of six standard text-books, preferably in science or history, and copy the table which seems to you most satisfactory as an analysis. Discuss these tables in class, and suggest improvements where you can. 2. Examine the current number of some magazine and classify the expository papers under the heads: informative article and essay. Read one paper of each kind, and make notes on its matter and manner to be used in class discussion. Try to make clear to yourself and to the class how the purpose in each case has affected the writing. The most valuable periodicals for your purpose are: The Atlantic Monthly, the Outlook, the Independent, the Nation, the New Republic, the Unpopular Review, the Saturday Evening Post. 3. Outline the papers chosen for study. 4. Examine an article in a scientific or other technical journal, and compare its organization of subject-matter with the types of organization found in the preceding cases. 5. Decide for which kind of publication each of the following subjects would be available, throwing out those that do not seem to you worth while on any basis. If the same subject could be treated for both types of journals, explain how: The Freshman's Freshness; Latest Developments in Aeroplanes; How I Typewrite; Getting Up Early; The Serbian; Life on a Sub- marine; What the Morning Mail May Do to You; Labor Unions and Patriotism; How Women Sharpen Pencils; Knowledge is Power; Things I Love Not to Do; A New Mechanical Device to Help the Blind; A Federal Inheritance Tax; Gothic Architecture; Palmis- try; What the Irish Want; Are the French as a Nation Gay; The Dictaphone; Protective Coloring in College; What is a Gentle- man; How Wireless Telegraphy Works; How to Pack a Trunk; My Six-by-Eight City Garden; System in the Kitchen; The Life of the Glowworm; Did Shakespeare Ever Visit Italy; On Shaking Hands; The Round Tower at Newport; How I Concentrate. 340 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 6. Following the plan of the newspaper outline partly developed in this section make a complete outline of the News section of the paper that you read; then make a full outline of the Advertisement section. 7. Choose the five subjects in 5 which seem to you most prom- ising and indicate in a general way how you would proceed to out- line them. Make a complete outline of one. 2. THE INFORMATIVE ARTICLE The informative article is the simplest use of exposition; its only purpose is to organize the scattered facts about any subject, and to present them in such a way that they will instruct in an interesting manner a certain class of readers. Its method is entirely objective. For this kind of article there are three conditions of success : 1. A subject about which there is real popular curiosity; 2. Careful adaptation of the subject to the intelligence, state of knowledge, and interests of the readers for whom it is intended; 3. Organization that will ensure proper understanding of the material. A brisk style, a feeling for picturesque incident, a sense of humor, are all useful but not essential. Since popular curiosity is molded largely by current events as these are reflected in the newspapers and magazines, prob- ably the best way to learn to choose material for a paper of this kind is to form the habit of noticing what is written about in the best magazines by frequently looking at the tables of contents even when you have no time to read the articles; and by following the newspapers so closely that when they present a subject that has not yet appeared in the mag- azines you notice the novelty at once. Of course all this will not help you unless you either have or can get special knowl- edge of the subject you wish to write about. Special knowl- edge does not mean necessarily new information although THE SHORT PAPER 341 this is usually the most valuable; it may mean bringing to light new relationships between old facts or pointing out in- teresting but neglected connections. For instance, if a living specimen of a supposed extinct species of birds is found in a remote part of the world, an article summing up what has been known hitherto about the type may be timely, although it will not have the value of the article written by the dis- coverer of the bird. In general, it may be said that popular interest runs in waves, and it is well to keep ahead of the crest of the wave. Before the War, for some years much was written about political graft and the corruption of high finance, about social problems, housing conditions, loan sharks, etc. The War introduced an entirely new set of interests and problems, not merely in connection with the actual fighting, but con- cerning living conditions in various countries of Europe, and especially concerning problems of our own national wel- fare. There will of course be new phases in connection with reconstruction; and the writer of popular articles must vie with the journalist in looking ahead. It is a good plan to keep a changeable list of subjects that occupy the public attention, crossing them off as they grow out of date or are over- exploited. The next step is to determine what aspect of the general subject in which people are interested you are fitted to deal with. Let us assume a few possibilities. If you are ac- quainted with some one who becomes famous, or with a place that is brought before the public eye for some interesting occurrence, chance has given you special knowledge which can be used to advantage. Suppose, for example, you undertake to write on one of the following subjects: Luncheon with Lloyd George; Fighting in the High Alps as I Saw it; Is Frederick the Great Responsible for the War? 342 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH How can special knowledge be adapted to readers? Certain eliminations suggest themselves at once : 1. You must not tell them what they know already, partly because they would be bored, and partly because, from the very nature of your subject, such material would be irrelevant; as, for instance, if you should include an account of the geography of the Alps in your account of mountain fighting; of the campaigns of Frederick the Great in your paper on his influence; of the familiar events in the career of Lloyd George in your impression of him derived from a luncheon, and so on. 2. Nor, on the other hand, must you include abstruse or technical knowledge of such things as geological theories, or elaborate statistics. Maps, like pictures, may add to the intelligibility as well as the interest of your paper. 3. In such a paper as we are discussing, you must shut out argument. Your business is merely to present your material. Your reader for the moment is depending upon your judgment to give him reliable information in such a way that he has nothing to do but absorb it. So much on the negative side. On the positive, try to make your explanation as concrete as possible. This you can do in several ways: 1. You can use examples; but your illustrations must be taken from the phases of life with which most people are familiar, or they may be a hindrance rather than a help. 2. You can use all the methods of narration and descrip- tion freely in developing your examples. In this connection, humorous or picturesque anecdote with dialogue is partic- ularly useful. On what principle shall this material be organized? Here again the audience must be the first consideration. How*ever the subject naturally divides itself, it should be so arranged that the first item in the plan rouses the reader's interest enough to secure his attention. Sometimes reference to the incident which attracted public attention to the matter and THE SHORT PAPER 343 which caused the writing of the article, is a good way to begin; sometimes a thrilling episode, as in an account of the moun- tain fighting; sometimes a statement that sounds incredible, as, for instance, "It was Frederick the Great, dead in 1786, who plunged the world into war in 1914 "; sometimes an asser- tion of mistaken views rouses curiosity as to how they will be corrected, as, for instance, a totally wrong impression of Lloyd George, and so on. By the exercise of a little ingenu- ity, a good point of departure can always be found; and when found will help to determine the other main heads of the paper. In making such an outline, students are often told to or- ganize the principal divisions as: introduction, body, con- clusion. To this advice there are objections. One is that the introduction and conclusion, so planned, will in many cases be, not vital parts of the paper at all, but simply appendages tacked on because their presence is believed to be necessary. This disjointed effect can be avoided by look- ing for a principle that will articulate your first main head with your second, and suggest the trend of the whole paper. Why did I say that Frederick caused the War? Because he ... and because he . . .; the principle is cause and effect. Were you interested in that newspaper story of the carrier pigeons? Well, I can tell you another . . . and another . . . and another . . .; the principle is exemplifica- tion. Did you suppose, as I did, that Lloyd George is thus- and-so? But he is really quite the opposite; contrast. How do I know? Because he said . . . and he acted . . .; cause and effect. Thus the paper grows naturally and or- ganically from its point of departure to its last word. For a magazine article or a paper to be read before an audience you should try to keep the bones of the skeleton from sticking through its skin. It is better to let them show than to have no bones; but people in general prefer to see skeletons covered. In a paper the best way to hide the bony 344 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH structure is by the ease and variety of your transitions; that is, by not allowing each new point to stick out at the begin- ning of a paragraph, but by sometimes placing it within the paragraph. This method appears in the following opening paragraphs of an article in which the fundamental ideas are italicized; you will thus see at a glance how far they are from betraying the structure of the paper by the first words of each paragraph: Ever since that fateful August of 1914 the hopes of humanity have been centered each year upon the springtime, and now again all the peoples of this war-torn world are looking forward to the end of the winter. For within the new year, upon the threshold of which we now stand, war mil have become a game of a different na- ture, played to new rules, because of a new and dominating element introduced into it. The bitter experience of all the belligerent countries during these three years of the greatest of all struggles has taught that seven- tenths of the problems of modern war are industrial; that humming factories and greasy workers, as well as fighting men, are involved. Rifles, shells, big guns, motor vehicles these and a thousand and one other munition items all must be rushed in a never-ending stream to the fronts. But now the great plants in all warring countries are humming a new tune stronger, more inspiring, more deadly even than before; and if peace can come only through the making of war utterly in- tolerable for the enemy, this new threat of coming destruction must surely hasten the end. In Great Britain, in France, in Italy, in Germany and in the United States, hundreds of thousands of men and women workers are being feverishly taught a new art; for to those men who control the destinies of the world through its armies has come the realization of an imminent and momentous change in warfare's strategy. Howard E. Coffin. In a formal report it is desirable to make the organization of the paper obvious. It may even be stated as a purpose in an introductory paragraph, and summarized in a concluding paragraph. Beyond doubt, the only satisfactory way to learn how to make an outline and then conceal it is by the careful analysis THE SHORT PAPER 345 of many well-constructed articles, followed by the noting underlining, even of the various methods of accomplishing transition of thought from paragraph to paragraph. With material and organization in hand, the only remaining part of the task is to keep moving; to move in as straight- forward and brisk and vivid a way as you can; to make your sentences short enough to make the movement of them felt; to use as short words as are consistent with the nature of your subject; and never for a moment to forget: "I am not writing this to please myself. For whom am I writing? Will they understand this? Will they like this? Do they already know this? What more will they wish to know?" In this attitude of mind anyone can learn to write an in- teresting paper on any subject about which he has something special to say. ASSIGNMENT 1. Make a list from the magazines suggested on p. 339 above of all the principal informative articles in the current number, and check those which seem to you most likely to meet with popular approval. Be prepared to defend your opinions in class. 2. Try to find one or more subjects for articles from several issues of a newspaper; and bring to class suggestions for treating these subjects. Outline in writing one about which you already have some special knowledge, leaving gaps where your knowledge ends, but indicating how these gaps may be filled when you have looked up the subject. 3. Criticize the possibilities of the following general subjects for informative articles. Wherever you can, limit one so that it could be used for such a purpose. State the magazine for which you think each article would be suited: Municipal Government in England and in America; How to Make Alfalfa Pay; How to Play Golf; The Balkans; The Latest Uses of Electricity; The Districts of Russia; Vocational Training; How Aeroplanes are Made; Finding Jobs for Crippled Soldiers; Waste; Atlantic Harbors; How Incriminating Documents are Hid- den at the Customs; How Switzerland Keeps Neutral; How the War Has Helped Women; Patriotism; Transportation; Carrier- Pigeons; The Wireless Telephone in the Aeroplane. 346 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 4. Make a careful abstract of less than 300 words of an article in which you were especially interested. Then without looking at the article again, try to reproduce it as nearly as you can. Aim to get in all the ideas; and do not hesitate to use the examples and details if you remember them. Either choose an article of less than 1000 words, or make your reproduction to scale so that 1000 words is your limit. When your paper is finished, compare it with the original, and correct it in two ways: Where you have distorted the ideas, make them right; where you have quoted the exact words of the original, whether consciously or unconsciously, insert quotation marks unless you had already done so. 5. Make a careful outline of another short article in which you are interested, and copy the first two or three paragraphs enough to give you a good start; then with your outline, finish the article in as nearly as possible the author's spirit. Later, correct the ideas, and give credit for quotations as before. 6. The following newspaper clippings suggest material for in- formative articles. Choose the one that interests you especially and work it up in 300 words or more. The statements may be wrong, or the plans may be impracticable; if so, your article should be an exposition of the error: (1) Absolute proof that the gravitational attraction between masses of matter varies with changes in their electrical potential due to electrical changes upon them has been obtained by Dr. Francis E. Nipher in a year of experiments in the laboratory of Washington university, St. Louis. It is said that Dr. Nipher has succeeeed in reversing the law of gravity. (2) NEW ORLEANS, La. New Orleans' climate is changing. Since 1900 it has risen 8 degrees in summer and dropped 4 degrees in winter. Dr. I. M. Cline, district forecaster of the weather bureau, is authority for the statement. (3) The ideal schoolhouse for any American city is one that will grow with the community. As it was only in the clays of fairy stories, however, that houses could enlarge and shrink at will, something modern must be devised. Fresno, Cal., believes that in her two new school buildings she has not only devised something quite novel, but that the long felt need for both an elastic and open air school plan has at last been solved. (4) Birds in their relation to conservation and agricultural in- crease. (5) The making of candies is not ordinarily considered a fine art, but the Italians have made it such. (6) Productive mining in Alaska began in 1880, and it is esti- mated that since that time mineral wealth has been produced to THE SHORT PAPER 347 the value of more than $200,000,000. The products of the fisheries are valued at more than $20,000,000 a year and those of fur bearing animals also have considerable value. (7) LONDON. It is announced here that a group of New York financiers have acquired the patent rights for the manufacture of a triplex glass for war purposes. (8) Vilhjalinur Stefansson, the explorer, now in the arctic, plans to come "outside" next fall and return to the polar region with a new expedition in 1920. (9) Dr. F. C. Brown of the University of Iowa is the inventor of the instrument, which consists of a lens placed at one end of an oblong box, the box containing selenium crystals so disposed that the rays of light concentrated by the lens fall upon them. An electric current is passed through the selenium, the conductive power of which varies according to the intensity of the light. By means of the current, musical tones are produced corresponding to its variations occasioned by the changing conductivity of the selenium. When the box is passed over a printed page, so that the lens is related to the type impression, each letter produces its own tone, and these varying tones are communicated to the blind reader through telephone transmitters. By actual experiment it has been demonstrated that blind persons after a few trials can readily dis- tinguish the different letters, and some are able to spell out whole words. It is believed that the average student could learn to read with facility in two months' time. 7. Write a 300-word sketch similar to the following on (1) the celebration of some picturesque festival with which you are familiar, or (2) some art or craft work observed by you in the process, or (3) the working of some new type of machine. JAPANESE FESTIVALS "Decorations, illuminations, street displays of every sort, but especially those of holy days, compose a large part of the pleasures of city life which all can share. The appeals thus made to aesthetic fancy at festivals represent the labor, perhaps, of tens of thousands of hands and brains; but each individual contributor to the public effort works according to his particular thought and taste, even while obeying old rules, so that the total ultimate result is a won- drous, a bewildering, an incalculable variety. Anybody can con- tribute to such an occasion; and everybody does, for the cheapest material is used. Paper, straw, or stone makes no real difference; the art sense is superbly independent of the material. What shapes that material is perfect comprehension of something natural, some- thing real. Whether a blossom made of chicken feathers, a clay 348 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH turtle or duck or sparrow, a pasteboard cricket or mantis or frog, the idea is fully conceived and exactly realized. Spiders of mud seem to be spinning webs; butterflies of paper delude the eye. No models are needed to work from; or rather, the model in every case is only the precise memory of the object or living fact. I asked at a doll-maker's for twenty tiny paper dolls, each with a different coiffure, the whole set to represent the principal Kyoto styles of dressing women's hair. A girl went to work with white paper, paint, paste, thin slips of pine; and the dolls were finished in about the same time that an artist would have taken to draw a similar number of such figures. The actual time needed was only enough for the necessary digital movements, not for correcting, comparing, improving: the image in the brain realized itself as fast as the slender hands could work. Thus most of the wonders of festival nights are created: toys thrown into existence with a twist of the fingers, old rags turned into figured draperies with a few motions of the brush, pictures made with sand." Lafcadio Hearn. 8. You may or may not agree with the ideas of the passage quoted below; in this exercise you are merely asked to develop them as nearly as possible along the original lines, but in your own phrasing and with your own illustrations. You may quote as much as you please, provided that you indicate quotation. Write a thousand word paper for such a magazine as Good Housekeeping, for example, entitling it The Simplification of Life. "... People as a rule, being extremely muddle-headed about life, are under a fixed impression that the more they can acquire and accumulate in any department, the 'better off' they will be, and the better times they will have. Consequently when they walk down the street and see nice things in the shop windows, instead of leaving them there, if they have any money in their pockets, they buy them and put them on their backs or into their mouths, or in their rooms and round their walls; and then, after a time, finding the result not very satisfactory, they think they have not bought the right things, and so go out again and buy some more. And they go on doing this in a blind habitual way till at last their bodies and lives are as muddled up as their brains are, and they can hardly move about or enjoy themselves for the very multitude of their possessions, and impediments, and duties, and responsibilities, and diseases connected with them. " The origin of this absurd conduct is of course easy to see. It is what the scientific men call an 'atavism.' In the case of most of us, our ancestors, a few generations back, were no doubt actually in want (and if one goes far enough this is true of everybody) in want of sufficient food or sufficient clothing. Consequently it THE SHORT PAPER 349 became a fixed 'principle' in those days, when you saw a chance, to accumulate as much as you could Savages when they come across a good square meal , , . The gratification of fixed ideas, unlike the gratification of a living need, seems to be a kind of mechanical thing, supposed to be necessary, but certainly burdensome, and bringing little enjoyment with it. And progress. . . . "There are different ways of dealing with this question of Ac- cumulation, which so harasses modern life. The first may be called the method of Thoreau. . . . "Personally I like to have a few things of beauty about me; and as it happens that I dust and clean out my room myself, I know exactly how much trouble each thing in it is, and whether the trouble is compensated by the pleasure. . . . "... But now there is another class of folk who, experiencing the pleasure of having certain possessions, are not willing to undergo the labor of keeping them in order. . . . They therefore buy serv- ants and attendants to keep the things in order for them. . . . "The problem is not escaped. . . . "All this, however, does not prove that servants are necessarily a mistake. Because you get rid of one idee fixe it does not follow that you must enslave yourself to its opposite. . . . "Life is an art, and a very fine art. One of its first necessities is that you should not have more material in it more chairs and tables, servants, houses, lands, bankshares, friends, acquaintances, and so forth, than you can really handle. It is no good pretending that you are obliged to have them. You must cut that nonsense short. . . . "It is so much better to be rude to needless acquaintances than to feign you like them, and so muddle up both their lives and yours with a fraud. "In a well-painted picture there isn't a grain of paint which is mere material. All is expression. And yet life is a greater art than painting pictures. Modern civilized folk are like people sitting helplessly in the midst of heaps of paint-cans and brushes and ever accumulating more; but when they are going to produce any- thing lovely or worth looking at in their own lives, Heaven only knows." Edward Carpenter. 9. Write an outline, then an article of 500-800 words, on some subject of your own choosing. Hand in the outline, the rough draft of the paper, and the finished draft at the same time. Write on the first page of the final draft the name of the magazine for which you assume yourself to be writing, together with your reason for choice of subject and of magazine. 350 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 3. THE INFORMAL ESSAY The word essay means attempt; the purpose of the essay is not to collect and summarize facts, but to interpret them. It may deal with any sort of subject; but as a rule is not con- cerned with science. It turns rather to the criticism of art in all its forms, including literature; to the observation and interpretation of Nature, including animal life; to the ob- servation and interpretation of human nature, manners, morals, customs, and so on; and to the expression of idiosyn- crasy in all its forms. The art of essay writing lies in being one's self and in being interesting. To be one's self requires the cultivation of the individualistic as over against the inborn sheep-instinct of the human race; to be interesting requires the cultivation of the imagination. For neither of these achievements is it possible here to give more than a few very general suggestions. Clear recognition of the meaning and worth of the ideals themselves is the first essential recognition of the power that grows out of independent thinking, and of the pleasure that accompanies the play of the mind in dealing with all the routine, the veriest commonplaces, of life. These ideals must be felt; they cannot be communicated by precept. They can be realized partly by observation of persons who have such ideals, and more easily perhaps certainly at first by reading the characters of such personalities through their essays their "attempts" at self-expression. The word essay has been and is still used to describe the kind of writing which we have called "the informative ar- ticle"; and there are some essays of which the informative purpose clashes with the highly personal method and pro- duces a hybrid notably, the essays of Carlyle. But the flexibility of thought and ease of expression which mark the true essay can be seen to most advantage perhaps in the work of Addison and Steele, Lamb, Stevenson, E. V. Lucas, THE SHORT PAPER 351 Max Beerhohm, S. M. Crothers, who show a happy irre- sponsibility in the choice of subject, and are concerned only with delight in the play of the mind. Beyond this recognition of the ideal, a deliberate effort to free the mind from its tendency to passive acceptance of ideas merely because other people think them, and to encourage it to set up an idea-factory of its own, goes into the making of an essayist. And finally, control, if not mastery, of Eng- lish is essential. These are hard conditions; but they are mitigated in two ways. One is that every effort to meet them brings its own reward in mental stimulation, and the other, that in the infinite variety of essay material there is usually something to appeal to minds of every type. Practice in writing informative articles leads to clear thinking and sound organization of thought; practice in essay writing leads to stimulation of the imaginative processes. ASSIGNMENT 1. Read for an hour or so at random, as the titles attract you, in the essays of one of the following authors, making notes of any kind that suggest themselves to you: Montaigne, Addison and Steele ( the Spectator and the Toiler), Lamb, Stevenson, E. V. Lucas, Max Beerbohm, S. M. Crothers, A. C. Benson. Discuss the qualities of these essayists. 2. Write a paper of 300-500 words, embodying your ideas as to the qualities that make an essay worth reading. 3. Write an essay on Our Clothes. The following extract may give you a point of view: " If the Greek sculptors were to come to life again and cut us out in bas-relief for another Parthenon, they would have to represent us shuffling along, heads down and coat-tails flying, splash-splosh a nation of umbrellas." Richard Jefferies. 4. THE NATURE STUDY The value of the Nature study depends much more upon the matter than upon the manner. If you love wild life, 352 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH as John Muir, John Burroughs, Richard Jefferies, and W. H. Hudson, for example, have loved it, you can scarcely fail to write interestingly about it. If you have not the material based upon continued, close, and intimate observation, you cannot make up for the lack by any method whatever. There is no reason, however, why you should not practise, with such material as you have observed, the form which a Nature study usually takes. It is commonly a tissue of narration and description closely intertwined, telling the conditions under which observations were made, and the results of the observations, together with the author's inter- pretations of them. The following passages show the in- timate association of the three processes: If any one were to get up about half-past five on an August morning and look out of an eastern window in the country, he would see the distant trees almost hidden by a white mist. The tops of the larger groups of elms would appear above it, and by these the line of the hedgerows could be traced. Tier after tier they stretch along, rising by degrees on a gentle slope, the space between filled with haze. Whether there were corn-fields or meadows under this white cloud he could not tell a cloud that might have come down from the sky, leaving it a clear azure. This morning haze means intense heat in the day. It is hot already, very hot, for the sun is shining with all his strength, and if you wish the house to be cool it is time to set the sunblinds Pure color almost always gives the idea of fire, or rather it is perhaps as if a light shone through as well as color itself. The fresh green blade of corn is like this, so pellucid, so clear and pure in its green as to seem to shine with color. It is not brilliant not a surface gleam or an enamel, it is stained through. Beside the moist clods the slender flags arise filled with the sweetness of the earth.' Out of the darkness under that darkness which knows no day save when the ploughshare opens its chinks they have come to the light. To the light they have brought a color which will attract the sunbeams from now till harvest. Richard Jefferies. The following passage is chiefly narrative, including much description, but its expository purpose is sharply indicated in the concluding paragraph: THE SHORT PAPER 353 So here I waited, crouched at the foot of a clump of lofty bam- boos, my light shut off, and realizing as never before, the mystery of a tropical jungle at night. A quarter of a mile away, the mag- nificent bird was calling at intervals, from just some such place as I was in. When my eyes recovered from the glare of the light, I found that the jungle was far from dark. The night was moonless and not a glimmer of star came through the thick foliage overhead. But a thousand shapes of twig and leaf shone dimly with the steady dull blue-green phosphorus glow of fox-fire. Once a firefly passed through the bamboos a mere shooting star amid all these terrestrial constellations. The mould beneath my feet might change to peat, or, in future ages, to coal, but even then the alchemy of fire would be needed to awaken the imprisoned light. Here, from plants still erect, which were blossoming but a short month ago, a thousand gleams shone forth, defying the blackness of night. Some small animal passed to windward of me, sniffed, and fled at full speed! The wings of a bat or other flying creature whistled near, while ever the resonant call of the ocellated bird rang out, mocking my helplessness. The firefly could make its way through tangle and thorns to the very spot where the bird stood. The small four-footed creature of the night could creep noiselessly over dried bamboo sheaths until his little eyes marked the swelling throat of the calling pheasant. But here was I, with a powerful electric light, with the most penetrating of night-glasses, with knowledge of savage woodlore, and with human reasoning power; and yet with feet shod with noise, with clothing to catch on every thorn a hol- low mockery of a 'lord of creation'! Again the bird called, and I interpreted its message. The law of compensation! I was helpless to reach it, I was degenerate indeed in the activities of the primitive jungle-folk, but I thrilled at the mysteries of the nocturnal life. My pulse leaped at the wild call not from a carnivore's desire for food, or from the startled terror of the lesser wilderness people, but because of the human-born thirst for knowledge, from the delights of the imagination which are for man alone. Williain Beebe. If you have the desire to write Nature studies, and feel that you have material, you cannot do better than study the work of Muir, Burroughs, Jefferies, and Hudson (many of his essays are not in volume form, but are reproduced in 354 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Littell's Living Age). Of younger writers, Long, Roberts, William Beebe, and Dallas Lore Sharp may be mentioned. What has been said about the Nature study applies also to the sketch of travel; but this should rarely be attempted except by the expert. ASSIGNMENT Choose your own material, and write a 500-word study of some aspect of Nature which you yourself have observed. Suggested topics are: (1) The Habits of Some Wild Animal; (2) Song of Some Bird; (3) Where I go Fishing; (4) Water in a Storm; (5) Tree Move- ments in Wind; (6) The Effects of Frost or Sleet on a Landscape; (7) The First Wild Flowers; (8) Spring in the City; (9) Different Kinds of Rain; (10) The Prairie; (11) The Desert; (12) The Tama- rack Swamp; (13) The Dunes; (14) The Habitat of Certain Wild Flowers. 5. STUDIES IN HUMAN NATURE Essays of this type are innumerable. They embrace char- acter studies, and observations on the customs, manners, and morals of society. You can quickly see the range of the subject by comparing the tables of contents of the Spectator and the Toiler with that of the Contributors' Club in one or two bound volumes of the Atlantic or the Point of View in Scribner's Magazine or the Editor's Drawer in Harper's. Character essays may be written in two ways : by describing and explaining the qualities of a class, in the singular or plural, as: Bores; The Good-Natured Man; or by embodying the qualities of a class in a typical individual, definitely localized and named, as: Sir Andrew Freeport, typical city merchant. The second method is the more difficult and the more in- teresting. It is done precisely as a character in fiction is developed, except that the person is posed and viewed from many angles, but not subject to the evolution of qualities by means of a succession of circumstances. The character THE SHORT PAPER 355 should be presented with all the vividness that can be gained from description of surroundings, dress, personal appearance, manner, speech, effect upon others, and so on. A familiar example is Sir Roger de Coverly. For methods of doing this, see p. 214 above. The interpretation of the character of a class proceeds from a careful analysis of striking qualities, and is interesting as a rule only in so far as it succeeds in embodying these in lively and amusing incidents, which may be presented as if they were incidents in a short story. Very similar is the procedure in essays on customs, man- ners, or morals; but in so far as the subject is more effective in proportion as it is limited to a single striking observation for example, on the joy of not getting up in the morning its very simplicity demands a play of variety in the choice of incident to make the result worth reading. This playing round about a single strand of thought is admirably illustrated in the following: Even to-day, however, there are many fortunate persons who are ever awakened by an alarm-clock that watchman's rattle, as it were, of Policeman Day. The invention is comparatively recent. Without trying to uncover the identity of the inventor, and thus adding one more to the Who's Who of Pernicious Persons, we may assume that it belongs naturally to the age of small and cheap clocks that dawned only in the nineteenth century. Some desire for it existed earlier. The learned Mrs. Carter, said Dr. Johnson, " at a time when she was eager in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance that, at a certain hour, her chamber light should burn a string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a sudden strong noise: this roused her from her sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up." This device, we judge, was peculiar to Mrs. Carter, than whom a less eager student would have congratulated herself that the sudden strong noise was over, and gone sweetly to sleep again. The venerable Bishop Ken, who believed that a man "should take no more sleep than he can take at once," had no need of it. He got up, 356 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH we are told, at one or two o'clock in the morning " and sometimes earlier," and played the lute before putting on his clothes. To me the interesting thing about these historic figures is that they get up with such elastic promptness, the one to study and the other to play the lute. The Bishop seems a shade the more eager; but there are details that Mrs. Carter would naturally have refrained from mentioning to Dr. Johnson, even at the brimming moment when he had just accepted her contribution to the Rambler. For most of us or alarm-clocks would not be made to ring con- tinuously until the harassed bed-warmer gets up and stops the racket this getting out of bed is no such easy matter; and perhaps it will be the same when Gabriel's trumpet is the alarm-clock. We are more like Boswell, honest sleeper, and have " thought of a pulley to raise me gradually"; and then have thought again and realized that even a pulley " would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal disposition." Let the world go hang, our internal disposition is to stay in bed: we cling tenaciously to non-existence or rather, to that third state of consciousness when we are in the world but not of it. Contributors' Club in the Atlantic Monthly. From this you see the wide range of associations that can be brought into play to make one idea interesting. Success will depend partly upon the truth and universality of appeal of the subject, and partly upon the power of the writer to make unexpected and delightful if possible, humorous applica- tions of incident in the development of it. ASSIGNMENT 1. Make as long a list as you can in two hours of subjects for essays of this type as you have found them in the works of any of the essayists mentioned on pp. 350f . or in any others of recognized stand- ing; and then supplement this list by five subjects of your own of the same general type, which you have not seen developed. 2. Write a character study in about 300 words of one of the fol- lowing types; give your subject a suitable name, describe dress, appearance, etc., and quote characteristic speech. If you prefer, you may substitute a type of your own: The freshman who knows it all; the absent-minded man; the woman who must be fashionable; the bargain-hunter; the penny- wise; a member of the Bird Club; the janitor; the first violin; the THE SHORT PAPER 357 telegraph boy; the girl at the ribbon counter; the woman who cannot learn golf; the helpful man; the gum-chew er; the cat-lover; the cat- hater; the streetcar conductor; the butcher; the policeman; the man who hangs about the city hall; the woman in the Pullman dressing- room; the baby that cries. 3. Write the same study or another of the same kind, using a different method. 4. Write about 300 words on one of the following subjects or on a similar subject of your own: A row of boots and shoes on the streetcar; moving day; the spring hat; dressing in a hurry; shabby gloves; the way we walk; the whistling man; "extry paper"; what's in a necktie; how we take notes in class ; the campus in the rain. 6. THE BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY, I Biography is the imaginative reconstruction of a life as nearly as possible as it was lived. In this work the biographer may be hampered in either of two ways: he may find too much material or too little. If he finds too much, he must use the methods of narration for sifting out what are the most important events, the methods of exposition for choosing what is significant for character, and the methods used in argument for distinguish- ing between authorities and rejecting those that have nothing to contribute. If he finds too little, the testing of what there is becomes peculiarly important, in order that he may have a solid basis on which to set the constructive imagination to work. These two conditions require separate discussion. With abundance of material, your best way is to begin by reading a reliable summary of the career in some good dic- tionary of biography or encyclopaedia. At the end of the article you will usually find references to the authorities upon which it is chiefly based. These you should note as the beginning of a bibliography. In your reading of the article you will have observed some phases of the life which 358 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH interest you more than others determined, naturally, by your own occupations and tastes. These you should also note on cards as clues in your further reading. If you are reading about Scott, for example, you may be attracted especially by the account of his life as a country gentleman, or by his antiquarian interests, or by his friendship with the little girl, Marjorie Fleming. Whatever outstanding features of the life attract you, these you should bear sharply in mind. Then before you finally limit your subject, you should turn to the periodical indexes to see whether these phases of the subject have already been written about sufficiently there is no reason for going over old ground and if so, choose another aspect, one with which your constructive imagination can really find something to do. Then look up your authorities, beginning with the best: what the man tells about himself in diary or letters or auto- biography; what his relatives, or friends, or contemporaries tell about him; and finally what the best compilers of his biography, who have used the same original sources, have concluded about him. These last are valuable as a counter- balance for your untried, perhaps over-hasty judgment; but their value as evidence cannot be weighed a moment as against that of firsthand authorities.' To make your study interesting, you may make free use of original materials, always, of course, giving due credit in footnotes. Instead of generalizing, tell anecdotes, quote sayings, describe personal appearance give your presenta- tion as concrete and suggestive a form as possible. In this you may use the methods that you employ in fiction and the drama, provided that each assertion rests upon well- authenticated fact. Where there is no lack of material, a good biographical sketch involves only three main problems: (1) organization on a single unifying principle; (2) truth; (3) vividness. THE SHORT PAPER 359 ASSIGNMENT 1. Limit each of the following subjects so that it could be treated in a 500-word sketch: Alexander Hamilton, Abraham Lincoln, Daniel Boone, Bret Harte, Stonewall Jackson, Mary Stuart, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Benjamin Franklin, Julius Caesar, Michael Angelo, King Alfred, Samuel Johnson. 2. Discuss in class the life and character of some person now much in the public eye. Use as the basis of your discussion material found in current literature. 3. Write in about 500 words a biographical study on one of the following subjects: (1) Scott and Marjorie Fleming (2) Dr. Johnson's attitude toward David Garrick (3) How Samuel Pepys Entertained (4) Washington's Life at Mount Vernon (5) Your own choice 7. THE BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY, II When there are too few facts, your problem is to get the full meaning of such as there are. Here the process is of drawing correct inferences, all the inferences, and no others. This is not to be learned in a few lessons; but it should be acquired in a college course, and the beginning should be made in freshman English. Suppose you are asked to sketch the life of Shakespeare's daughter, Susannah. What is known about her? You will find the date of her baptism duly recorded, her mar- riage to Dr. John Hall, her appointment as her father's executor, her inheritance of the bulk of his property, and a highly laudatory epitaph these are about all the facts. But they are associated with other facts, and the two groups of facts considered together involve inferences that tell a good deal more. We know, for example, that there were two younger chil- dren twins; that Shakespeare was away from home most of the time during their early years, and that the family was 360 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH poor; that the maternal grandparents were plain yeomen, while the paternal grandparents were well-connected, had been well-to-do and important people in the town, but had come down in the world; that the little brother, Hamnet, died when he was eleven years old and Susannah thirteen; that soon after, Shakespeare, who by this time was successful, bought property and the finest house in town, and that he obtained a coat-of-arms, thus becoming a "gentleman," and that from that period he was much more at home; that Dr. John Hall was a distinguished and learned man, and Puritan in his tenets; that Susannah's epitaph declared her to have been possessed not only of all the virtues, but also of something of her father's wit. These are only some of the facts which envisage or surround the immediate facts of Susannah's life. From them all we infer that she was a woman acquainted with poverty, with sorrow, with country life, with small town prosperity, with the experiences of a country doctor's wife; that she had some business ability, that she stood in close relationship with her great father, and so on. But in the very charm of these inferences lies their danger. It is so easy to forget, as soon as we get away from actual fact, whether an inference is reasonably certain, or probable, or only possible; and to build inference upon inference until the whole structure is unsubstantial and topples at a critical word. For instance, we know that Susannah Hall lived in a house with a library; but we are not therefore warranted in assuming that she read the books, or even that she could read at all. If she had been lacking in business ability, she would not have been made her father's executor; but as to the nature of her education we are entirely ignorant. It is probable as might be shown that she had some training; it is possible that she had a good deal; but as to this we can- not say. Where there is little written material about a person, THE SHORT PAPER 361 tangible things associated with him, always valuable for in- terpretation of character and mode of life, become peculiarly important. The house that he lived in, the town, the land- scape, the garden that he made, the furniture, his various personal possessions, portraits everything that in any way bears the impress of the personality with which it was once associated helps to throw light. If you visit a room in which Queen Elizabeth once sat with her ladies, and see the very furniture that she used, her card table, fancy work that she made, you have a background against which it is easy for the imagination to turn her portrait hanging on the wall into something like a real woman. The methods used in reconstructing a single life apply also, of course, to the historical sketch, which endeavors to re- construct the life of a group, a city, a country. ASSIGNMENT 1. The portraits reproduced between pp. 362 and 363 are of Sir Thomas More and his daughter, Cicely Heron. Study them to- gether as introductory to a study of Cicely Heron's life, about which very little is known. Begin your work by answering the following questions : What common characteristics do you find in the two portraits? (If you have access to a good art gallery, you can continue the work by looking up the Holbein drawings of Cicely's grandfather, Judge More, and of her brother, John More.) What qualities in Cicely's face are not found in her father's? Does she look intelligent? frivolous? seriousminded? stupid? robust? frail? cold? affectionate? domineering? humorous? slow? quick? hot-tempered? malicious? mean-spirited? cold? sensitive? coarse? conscientious? obstinate? yielding? What other qualities do you find suggested? (You will not all agree in regard to them, but you would not agree altogether if you knew her as a living woman.) Next, read the account of her father's life in the Dictionary of National Biography to find such facts as must have had a great ef- fect upon his daughter's life and character. Note these carefully. Note also points in his character which you think you can find in her face. 362 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Then write a 500-word biographical study of Cicely Heron. Be very careful to give your authority for every inference, and to dis- tinguish in every case between (1) certain, (2) probable, (3) and possible. If you do not, your study will have been wasted, and your result will be worthless. 8. THE BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY, III In discussing a writer we have one more valuable source of information for biography, and that is internal evidence from his work. From music we can infer but little, because of the impossibility of translating musical impressions into words; and yet the difference between the music of Beethoven and Chopin is highly instructive as to the personalities of both. From art we get much more, both as to the surround- ings of the artist and the people in whom he was interested, and as to his theory of life: compare for example the Venus de Milo, a Botticelli Madonna, and a Rembrandt portrait. From writings, however, we learn to infer much that the author was unconscious of revealing about himself. Scarcely any book is so impersonal that it does not give some informa- tion about its writer to him who knows how to look for it. Here we must distinguish between two kinds of evidence. In a diary or autobiography a writer may say what he pleases; he may be more or less self-deceived or even untruthful. But when he is absorbed in another subject than himself, what he unconsciously shows of his own tastes and circum- stances and character is almost certainly true. For instance, as Shakespeare's plays are full of talk of sport and the stable, in appropriate and inappropriate circumstances, and on the lips of characters of all sorts, we may safely infer that Shakespeare himself was a sportsman and fond of dogs and horses. As a writer's own experience is the basis on which he constructs his imaginative work, we can infer from signs that appear in his imaginative work the nature of his general experience. It is not safe to say that he has had SIR THOMAS MORE Portrait by Holbein " ; ; CICELY HERON Portrait by Holbein THE SHORT PAPER 363 any particular experience described in his work, but only that he is familiar with the general type of that sort of experience or he would not have chosen it for treatment or if he had, his ignorance would be at once apparent. We cannot accuse any author of sharing the love affairs of his hero or heroine, but if he knows nothing of the emotion of love, his books will reveal this fact. On the other hand, we must distinguish between the re- flection of personal experience in books, and the reflection of ideas common to many people in an age. Because Shake- speare's work is full of puns, we cannot infer that he was by nature a punster; we know that the age revelled in puns, and the inference is rather that he had the wit to make puns and the desire to please his audiences with them. So in inferring biographical facts from this indirect tes- timony, it is necessary both to be extremely cautious in re- gard to particular facts, and to compare our inferences with what is known of the popular ideas and tastes of the time in which our subject lived. With these cautions in mind, it is well to begin to practise inferential work of this kind as train- ing for dealing with men even more than for the writing of biography. The writing of autobiography requires no special tech- nique, and as its interest depends almost entirely upon its material and its spontaneity, there is no need to practise writing it. And the same is true of the diary, which Stevenson calls "a school of posturing and melancholy self-deception." ASSIGNMENT 1. If you have access to Littell's Living Age, look up in the in- dexes of volumes, working backward from the present year, articles by W. H. Hudson. Read enough of these to give you data for a 500-word sketch of his biography and temperament. You may use facts that he tells about himself; but rely principally upon in- ferences as to his ideas, tastes, and habits. 2. Read a story by Joseph Conrad, preferably Youth or Heart of 364 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Darkness (you will find these and others by referring to The Reader's Guide, if they are not accessible in volume form), and write about 200 words on his life and temperament. Do not guess; state only what can be inferred with certainty. 3. Write a brief sketch of the life of Jane Austen based upon the reading of one of her novels. Then look up her letters, if they are accessible, and see how far you have been right. Then not be- fore read the account of her in the Dictionary of National Biog- raphy, or some other standard reference book. 4. State in the briefest notes possible the biographical facts that you infer from each of the following passages, and use these notes as a basis for class discussion: (1) "Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to then- idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun or moon or star throughout the year, Of man or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In liberty's defense, my noble task, Of which all Europe talks from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide." John Milton. (<) "Next Sunday, Sunday, July 3, I told him I had been that morning at a meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach. Johnson: 'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.' " James Boswell. (Infer as to both Boswell and Johnson.) (3) "To one like Elia, whose treasures are rather cased in leather covers than closed in iron coffers, there is a class of alienators more formidable than that which I have touched upon; I mean your borrowers of books those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes." Charles Lamb. (4) "For great Men I have ever had the warmest predilection; and can perhaps boast that few such in this era have wholly escaped me. Great Men are the inspired (speaking and acting) Texts of that divine Book of Revelation, whereof a Chapter is completed from epoch to epoch, and by some named History; to which in- spired Texts your numerous talented men, and your innumerable untalented men, are the better or worse exegetic Commentaries, THE SHORT PAPER 365 and wagon-load of too-stupid, heretical or orthodox, weekly Sermons." Thomas Carlyle. (5) "Wealth, again, that end to which our prodigious works for material advantage are directed, the commonest of commonplaces tells us that men are always apt to regard wealth as a precious end in itself. . . . Now, the use of culture is that it helps us, by means of its spiritual standard of perfection, to regard wealth as but machinery, and not only to say as a matter of words that we regard wealth as but machinery, but really to perceive and feel that it is so." Matthew Arnold. 9. THE PROPAGANDA PAPER OR SPEECH The commonest use of the processes of argument is in the propaganda paper. This in its simplest and briefest form appears in the editorial of the newspaper and magazine; it is found in all the magazines side by side with the expository article, and in the field of religion it appears as the sermon. The propaganda paper is merely an informal argument which does not hold strictly to the form of the brief, and which inclines to emphasize persuasion even at the expense of com- plete logic, if necessary. To this end we find argument blended with description, narration, and exposition, so closely that it is often hard to say where the one begins and the other ends. It gets vividness from detailed description, as, for instance, in the elaboration of an analogy. It gets dramatic quality from narration, when a situation is made to live again before the audience; for instance, a history of conditions in the Philippines before we annexed them used as an argument for annexation. From the exposition of accepted truth in connection with an argument, the argument itself acquires a certain solidity in the minds of a popular audience or popular readers, such as would not be felt from the processes of argumentation used alone; for instance, when a full exposition of the known conditions that would warrant the existence of life on Mars precedes the argument by analogy that Mars is inhabited. For the writing of papers of this type, few special directions 366 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH are necessary. Absolutely clear structure is essential even though the structure is less rigid than in the formal argu- ment. In the informal argument, all the arts of persuasion may and should be used, and in this, free play should be given to individual experience and to temperament. Beyond this, the only thing to be said is that as the purpose of the prop- aganda paper is to win people to the writer's way of thinking on its subject, obviously the paper must succeed in being interesting to the people for whom it is intended or it fails of its purpose. Here, as in all forms of writing in which the purpose of reaching a particular audience rather than the need of self-expression is the motive, the only really prac- tical rule that can be given is to study successful models as they appear in print in the magazines, and to imitate these as far as is consistent with your subject, your ideals, and your temperament. Practice of this sort gets much more rapid results than mere application of theory. ASSIGNMENT 1. Read and discuss the nature and value of the arguments of Brutus and of Antony in Julius Caesar, act III, scene 2. 2. Write about 500 words on one of the following propositions: (1) For the good of the State, sickness should be made a legal offense. (2) Criminals should be regarded as diseased, and so treated. (3) Machinery retards the development of the human race. If you cannot argue in favor of any of these, read the chapters in Samuel Butler's Erehwon that touch upon these subjects and write an informal refutation of about the same length as Butler's ar- guments. 3. Write a 500-word argument on any one of the following sub- jects on which you feel any conviction. You can supplement your own knowledge by reference to articles listed in The Reader's Guide: (1) The products of prison labor should not be sold. (2) The United States should admit Oriental immigrants on the same terms as European. THE SHORT PAPER 367 (3) There should be national legislation concerning marriage and divorce. (4) The Swiss system of universal military training should be adopted in the United States. 4. In the following quotation lies the germ of a paper. Either expand the ideas in it to about 500 words; or give the same amount of space to a statement of opposing views. Whichever you do, be careful to develop every point that is suggested, and give as many concrete illustrations as you can in support of your contention. Be as specific as possible: "The Prince straightway declared that self-government on any but a small scale, and in any but a young and simple society, was a ludicrous and hideous fallacy, and maintained that of all the perversions which the workings of the human mind as applied to politics had developed, none was more astoundingly illogical than that which resulted in the conclusion that an aggregation of half a million human beings, crowding into the space of a few square miles the extremes of wealth and poverty, and all the possibilities of ambition and villainy and ignorance and vice and misery and lawlessness and seething discontent, could rule itself." Henry Putter. 5. The following criticisms have been made upon our country by friendly visitors. Choose one that you consider just, and write a 500- word paper, suggesting what might be done about it: (1) "Business governs America; and business does not include labour. . . . America is the paradise of plutocracy; for the rich there enjoy not only a real power but a social prestige such as can hardly have been accorded to them even in the worst days of the Roman Empire." G. Lowes Dickinson. (2) "And the London Savoy Hotel still flaunts its memory of one splendid American night. The court-yard was flooded with water tinted an artistic blue to the great discomfort of the practically inevitable gold-fish and on this floated a dream of a gondola. And in the gondola the table was spread and served by the Savoy staff, mysteriously disguised in appropriate fancy costume. The whole thing there's only two words for it was 'perfectly lovely.' 'The illusion' whatever that was we are assured, was com- plete. It wasn't a nursery treat, you know. The guests, I am told, were important grown-up people." H. G. Wells. (3) "Individualism, then, is stronger and deeper rooted in Am- erica than elsewhere. And, it must be added, socialism is weaker." G. Lowes Dickinson. 368 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (4) "I came away from Washington with my preconception enormously reinforced that the supreme need of America, the pre- liminary thing to any social or economic reconstruction is political reform. It seems to me to lie upon the surface that America has to be democratized." H. G. Wetts. (5) "There is no culture in America. There is instruction; there is research; there is technical and professional training; there is specialization in science and industry; there is every possible application of life to purposes and ends; but there is no life for its own sake." G. Lowes Dickinson. (6) "Now what is called corruption in America is a thing not confined to politics; it is a defect of moral method found in every department of American life." H. G. Wells. 6. Using the same quotations, choose one that you consider un- just and write a 500-word paper refuting it. 7. The two sets of papers called for in 5 and 6 should be discussed in class, and conclusions reached in regard to the criticisms and the refutations. CHAPTER XX CRITICISM CRITICISM as commonly practised is like a boomerang thrown by a novice: it does not hit the subject at which it is hurled; but it rebounds and hits the critic. In giving your opinions about the writing of Thomas Hardy or Bernard Shaw, you are telling the shrewd observer whether you are really familiar with the work, whether you have any under- standing of what the author is trying to do, whether you are thinking of this particular work in relation to other works by the same artist, and to all other art of its kind, and how much experience you have had of the aspect of truth of which you are criticizing the representation; and also you will suggest to no small degree your mental caliber and general attitude toward life. Few people have any idea how they are "giving themselves away " in the simple act of expressing their opinion of a poem, a novel, or a picture. To begin with, there are two ways of criticizing which profit no one. You may disarm judgment at once by saying, "I know nothing about art; but I know what I like." This is emi- nently sensible, if you do not immediately proceed on the hypothesis that what follows this introduction is criticism. The point is that like or dislike has nothing whatever to do with criticism. You may read East Lynne with ravenous enjoyment; and then sit down and show that as a Work of art it is beneath contempt. Or, again, you may be familiar with the principles and the technical language of criticism, and may apply them to a work of art without bringing it into the slightest vital re- 369 370 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH lationship with yourself. For instance, you may show that Lycidas is one of the finest lyrics in English; you may point out the circumstances of its composition, the pastoral el- ements, the lofty ideas, the beautiful imagery, the melody and color of the verse; and all the while you may feel that the poem is a bore, and that you will never read it again. This is merely the semblance or the shell of criticism. What, then, is criticism? The term comes from a word that means to separate. The original critic was a judge one who separates right from wrong, the innocent from the guilty; one who balances crime against punishment. The idea of separating of balancing on this side and on that is at the root of literary criticism. The first separation as in the case of the judge is that of the thing judged from the per- sonality of the judge. Whether you like or dislike the per- son on trial or the type of person that he is is entirely un- important; it is your business as judge to base your conclu- sion upon all the relevant facts, and upon nothing else. But is this all? It may leave you in the unhappy position of him who knows that Lycidas is a classic and feels that it is a bore. The separation must go further: you must as critic not only lay aside for the time your own personality, but you must try to jump into that of the author whose work you are judging. This is more than any judge is expected to do. The good critic, then, first and last, tries to see a work of art from the point of view of the creator. But he has to think backward. The creator begins with certain ideas which he expresses in words, or paint, or sounds; the critic begins with the completed work and asks himself: What was the original conception? What was the creator trying to do? How far has he done it? He will not begin by finding fault with Othello because it is a tragedy rather than a comedy, or because it is in blank verse rather than in rhyme, or because it is pessimistic rather than optimistic in its philosophy; he CRITICISM 371 will ask himself: What was Shakespeare trying to do, and how far has he succeeded in doing it? Had he the purpose of showing the havoc caused by jealousy lago's jealousy of Othello, Othello's jealousy of Desdemona? Had Milton in Lycidas, the purpose of turning a real grief, but pensive rather than poignant, into the beautiful forms of pastoral poetry? So far the critic is busy separating from the finished product the theme that gave it birth. This done, he turns to problems of technique workman- ship. And here at once he has to deal with standards: the author's own standard in earlier work; and the general stand- ards of excellence in every form of technique used. The critic again separates and weighs. Is this work better than the preceding work by the same writer? Does it show growth ? Does it gain here and lose there? In general, how does it measure up? On the other hand, how far short is it still of the best that has been done of its kind? In what respects is it most nearly perfect? Where are its greatest weaknesses? From these questions it is clear that the critic should be a man of wide knowledge; he should be familiar with all the earlier work of the author whose present book he is judging; he should be familiar with all the best that has been done in the forms of technique; and he should know the entire range of technique itself. No such critic has ever existed; but the ideal should be kept in mind in writing criticism. It follows that you cannot criticize an author properly unless you are familiar with the most that he has written, and also with the most that has been written by other au- thors in that type of literature. Therefore you should limit your criticisms strictly according to the limits of your knowl- edge; and you should make your reader clearly understand exactly what you are criticizing and with what right. At the same time you should endeavor to establish every ex- pressed opinion by reference to the source of it in the text 372 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH criticized, or you will find yourself slipping into the fatal "I like" type of statement, or the equally fatal "This is good;" of which the first is not criticism at all, while the second, without support, is meaningless. Again, all criticisms must be organized according to the principles of technique involved. If the plot of a novel is interesting, the critic must analyze it in terms of the prin- ciples that make good plot; if the characters are interesting, in terms of the principles that make good characterization; if the setting appeals, in terms of setting; if the dialogue, in terms of dialogue; if the philosophy, in terms of philosophy. If a poem is criticized, it must be judged by the technique of its verse as well as by its intellectual and emotional content, its imagery, and so on. The more closely you analyze a piece of writing according to the principles of technique that it involves, the nearer will you come to a judgment that will not only put you into the right relationship with the work judged, but will show you clearly whether it can contribute toward your own mental growth. And at every step you must refer your impression back to its source, or the whole structure of your judgment may be out of harmony with the facts. Often your impression will be debatable; sometimes it will be wrong. One passage will contradict another; critics will disagree; exposition will be- come argument. To judge accurately and wisely, you must form the habit of holding yourself to account for every opin- ion that you express; and if you do not actually quote in sup- port of your view, you should be able at every point to quote, if your opinion is challenged. To get rid of your personal bias, to get the author's point of view and purpose, to judge his work by his own standard of attainment, and by the absolute standards of the tech- nique that it involves, basing these judgments upon the evi- dence of the work itself all these processes enter into good criticism. And yet, it is conceivable that after you have done CRITICISM 373 all this you may still be in an attitude of mind symbolized by the sentence: "I know that Lycidas is a great poem, but it bores me." What can be done about this? Let us consider the difficulty from another angle. The appeal of a book to a mind is one of the most variable things in the world. Some books we grow out of in child- hood and never wish to see again; some books very few of us ever grow up to at all. There are books which some of us enjoy reading all our lives; others of us can never enjoy these books at all or at least we have not found out that we can. What are we to do with this personal relationship or lack of it in connection with criticism? If a bias for or against a work is not criticism, and if perfect detachment from it is merely the form of criticism without the spirit, what other attitude is possible? The attitude of holding judgment in solution as it were of saying to one's self: "To-day Lycidas leaves me cold; to-morrow I may have some experience that will open up new ranges of life, and the beauty of the poem may shine upon me." A perpetual readiness eagerness to find the beautiful in art, and an increasing keenness, born of wider experience of life and of books, to distinguish between the permanently beautiful and that which has only a tran- sient glamor for the developing mind mark the attitude of the true critic. He distinguishes thus: "Pride and Prejudice I can read now with as much delight as when I first came to it twenty years ago; but A Tale of Two Cities has lost its spell still, I appreciate its value as a factor in my mental development. Don Quixote I have never been able to read, but I hope to grow into it some day; I can see in it elements of beauty, but my experience as yet is not such that I can feel them I must keep it in mind and wait. Scottish Chiefs might have cast its spell over me many years ago, had it come my way; but I missed it then and now I can see that I have outgrown it." In some such way as this his mind moves, in a continual 374 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH effort to establish true relationships among works of art, with reference to one another and to himself. This is a totally different thing from liking or disliking without knowing why; and from giving reasons for a judgment which has not become assimilated and realized. From this point of view it would seem that criticism should be written only after this vital relationship between critic and subject has been once established. One who has not yet grown up to Don Quixote can obviously have nothing to say about it; while one who has felt the glamor of Dickens or of Jane Porter can still consider these authors in the light of the power that they once had upon him, and realize and ex- pound the sources of their attraction for others. For the inexperienced critic it is best to confine practice in writing criticism in two ways: To subjects with which at the time of writing he stands in vital relationship; and to the examination of very small pieces of work, in order that he may learn invariably to associate an impression with the passage on which it is based. Incomparably the best means of acquiring the critical atti- tude is free discussion of books in which you are now inter- ested. But discussion does not mean mere exchange of en- thusiasms; it means inquiry into the sources of enthusiasm, scrutiny into differences of opinion, and re-reading for evidence in support of this opinion or that. It is better for six people than for two to take part in such a discussion; the greater the divergences of opinion, the more upturning of evidence will there be, and the greater the probability of reaching a just balance of merits and defects. In writing criticism, the all important thing at first is to put yourself into direct relationship with the text. What is actually there? Very often failure to appreciate beauty is failure to see it; and, unnecessary as it may seem to say so, failure to see it is commonly due to not looking attentively at the thing in which it is embodied. Attentive and ex- CRITICISM 375 pectant scrutiny, then, of a work of art is the first step in learning to appreciate a beauty which does not immediately manifest itself to your mind. To secure this, it is best to limit yourself to a very small thing, and to hold yourself rigidly to finding the exact foundation in the text itself for every impression that it makes upon your mind. ASSIGNMENT 1. Bring to class as a basis for oral discussion notes on the book about which you are now most enthusiastic. Avoid all such terms as "I like," "good," etc., and collect evidence which should make other people incline to read the book. 2. Read the following stanza slowly, to decide whether the thought was worth expression: "It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make men better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear: A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May; Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be." Ben Jonson. To what do you attribute the irregular form of the stanza? Do you find upon examination that it contains any unnecessary words or phrases used to fill out the meter? Then can you say that the verse has been exactly formed to meet the pattern of the thought? Are thought and verse so blended that it is difficult to imagine this thought expressed in any other verse form? Are the two figures used for ornament or were they inherent in the thought as it de- veloped? On what do you base your opinion? If you omit the figures, how much of the poem remains? Write a criticism of the stanza in less than 50 words. Do not repeat what it contains; try to explain why it is beautiful. 3. Read the following stanza, aloud if possible, and rapidly; otherwise you lose the swing of the rhythm: 376 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH "Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of the beaver? Or swan's down ever? Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar? Or the nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? Oh so white! Oh so soft! Oh so sweet is she!" Ben Jonson. Is the thought here of any value? What is of value? Usually poetry appeals to the senses of sight and sound; what senses are appealed to here? How is this appeal made? Could it have been done in any other way? Why not? Why is the stanza made up of long and short lines, and why is the last line broken into three ejaculatory phrases? How would you contrast the reasons for the irregularity of meter here and in the stanza quoted above? Phrase exactly the relation between the breaking up of these lines and the feeling that they express. Write a criticism of the stanza in less than 50 words. 4. Read the following stanzas slowly, aloud if possible, without pausing more than a moment between them: "St. Agnes' Eve Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith." "And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, In blanched linen, smooth and lavender'd, While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon; Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon." John Keats. CRITICISM 377 Can you sum up your impression of the first stanza in a word? of the second? Quote the expressions in each upon which your im- pressions are based, and see whether you have included most of each stanza. If not, change your impression until you get one which is actually borne out by most of the text. Has the poet any idea here beyond conveying these two impressions? Does he convey them merely by his choice of words? How else? Name the words in the first stanza which by their sound alone suggest the impres- sion? What is the effect of the a in a-cold? In the second stanza what sound-combinations are used to express sleep? what sounds actually make the mouth form itself as it would in tasting the things mentioned? what words are used to make all the dainties seem very rare and precious, rich in unknown qualities? On the basis of these two stanzas write a criticism in less than 100 words of Keats's sensitiveness to sense impressions, basing every statement immediately upon the text. 5. Beauty may depend upon imagery, sound, rhythm, and sug- gestion in varying degrees; it may also depend upon the evoking of old emotional associations. If you learned to love daffodils from the flowers themselves, and from Mother Goose's "Daffy- downdilly has come up to town," you have experience to draw upon which peculiarly fits you to appreciate Wordsworth's poem about them. If you have merely seen them in florists' windows, you will be more prepared than if you have not seen them at all, to imagine the beauty that is faintly represented by the photograph of these flowers growing wild against their background of mountain and lake. Try to add color and atmosphere to the picture, then read the poem: "I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay; Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: 378 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company : I gazed and gazed but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils." Is the emphasis on the flowers or on the impression that they made on the poet? Which stanza contains the most important thought? Do all the others prepare for and lead up to this? Does the poem read like a record of real experience? How so? Is the thought expressed with the complete simplicity of unadorned prose? Why is it aside from the verse form poetry? Is the form itself im- portant here? the imagery? the appeal to sense? the figures? the sound? What is important? Write a criticism of less than 100 words, trying to explain the poetry of the lines? 6. Read Robert Herrick's lines on the same subject, and try to sum up in a sentence the fundamental difference between the poems: "Fair daffodils, we weep to sec You haste away so soon; As yet the early rising sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day has run But to the even-song; And having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you? We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or anything. We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again." CRITICISM 379 Whether you prefer this poem or the other may be a question of temperament or of mood; but you should be able to distinguish the totally different point of view and method of each poet. Which lays most stress on the form itself? Which regards every sound that he inserts, every turn of rhythm? Which poem could be expressed in a different stanza with least loss of effect? Which, then, depends more upon its form, and which upon its thought for conveying a sense of beauty? Which is built upon a commonplace thought that has been expressed countless times before? Can you remember or find other poems in which a similar view of life is expressed? Which of the two poems expresses a freshly realized aspect of Nature? In 100-200 words contrast the poems of Wordsworth and of Herrick on daffodils. Give evidence for every statement that you make. 7. Analyze in 100-200 words the charm of the following piece of prose: "And for you that have heard many grave, serious men pity Anglers; let me tell you, Sir, there be many men that are by others taken to be serious and grave men, whom we contemn and pity. Men that are taken to be grave, because nature hath made them of a sour complexion; money-getting men, men that spend all their time, first in getting, and next, in anxious care to keep it; men that are condemned to be rich, and then always busy or discontented: for these poor rich men, we Anglers pity them perfectly, and stand in no need to borrow their thoughts to think ourselves happy. No, no, Sir, we enjoy a con tented ness above the reach of such dis- positions, and as the learned and ingenious Montaigne says, like himself, freely, 'When my Cat and I entertain each other with mutual apish tricks, as playing with a garter, who knows but that I make my Cat more sport than she makes me? Shall I conclude her to be simple, that has her time to begin or refuse, to play as freely as I myself have? Nay, who knows but that it is a defect of my not understanding her language, for doubtless Cats reason and talk with one another, that we agree no better: and who knows but that she pities me for being no wiser than to play with her, and laughs and censures my folly, for making sport for her, when we two play together?'" 8. Izaak Walton, the author of the preceding quotation, died in 1683; Montaigne, whom he quotes, in 1592. Sum up the char- acter of each of these men as it appears from this passage alone. Afterward, look up their biographies and discuss the papers in class to see how nearly right you were. 380 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH 9. You are aware that Geoffrey Chaucer is considered one of the greatest English writers; you may or may not like his work yourself. In criticizing the following lines from the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, try to forget anything that you may know about Chaucer, and consider the verses as if they were the only surviving fragment of work by an unknown poet of the 14th century: "With him there was his son, a young squire, A lover and a lusty bachelor, With locks as curled as if they'd been in press. Of twenty years of age he was, I guess. Of his stature he was of medium length, And wondrously expert and great of strength; And he had been in raids of cavalry, In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy, And borne him well, as in so little space, In hope of standing in his lady's grace. Embroidered was he as it were a mead AH full of freshest flowers, white and red; Singing he was or whistling all the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his gown, with sleeves full long and wide; Well could he sit a horse, and finely ride; And songs he could compose and well indite, Joust and eke dance and well portray and write. For love no sleep at night might him avail; He slept no more than doth the nightingale. Courteous he was, modest and serviceable, And carved before his father at the table." Is this a living portrait of a young man? How do you know? What universal traits of character of a man of twenty does it show? Which trait is fundamental? which details illustrate it? what other qualities are associated with this? how are they illustrated? Is there any suggestion of qualities other than attractive? With allow- ance for differences in fashions of dress and accomplishments, would this stand for a portrait of a young soldier in any age? Then what is the great merit of the lines? Does the author show understanding of human nature? sympathy with its ideals and its foibles? Write 100-200 words of criticism on the passage, considered without reference to Chaucer, and adding any point that you wish to those brought out by the questions. CHAPTER XXI RESEARCH WORK YOUR initiation into research work may begin in the form of a term paper of several thousand words. Whether it does or not, as a college student you cannot too soon learn the meaning of the research attitude. It means not merely the accumulation of facts for a paper, but a general and per- manent desire to get the truth in regard to whatever aspect of life is under consideration. In this sense it is by no means confined to scholars, but belongs quite as much to the prov- ince of practical life. The training that leads to the research attitude comes from the independent investigation of all the facts in a situation with the single desire of inferring correctly the truth behind them. Research is thus argument. In every piece of research there are four principal stages : 1. Getting a subject about which the truth is imperfectly known; 2. Making a complete bibliography of all the information available; 3. Reading and making notes on cards, and filing these; 4. Combining the materials into an argument that shall lead to a conviction of the truth of the results reached. 1. In choosing a subject for a paper limited in length, you should take special care to narrow it as much as possible. You may indeed begin with a general subject in which you are interested; but you must reduce it to a very limited phase if you hope to get any results. Suppose, for example, you have always been interested in the Vikings. A study of the Vikings would run into volumes; a study of the Vikings 381 382 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH in America is too much for a single volume; a study of a single expedition is enough for a paper. Which expedition shall you study? Take one about which there is difference of opinion: for example, scholars have been quarreling for some time about the authenticity of an inscription-bearing stone found at Kensington, Minnesota, and the dispute is not settled. While you could scarcely expect to settle it, the material for discussion is manageable in amount, and your investigation will bring you to grips with a real problem. Note that your subject has been narrowed from the Vikings to the Kensington Rune Stone. Similarly, you may take one small phase of some subject in science, in economics, in social science, in any field of knowledge, and grapple with it in order to learn method in the attack and conquest of truth. 2. Your bibliography should be complete, accurate, and in proper form. To make it complete, you must begin with the general works of reference, and follow up every authority there mentioned until you are sure that it is or is not useful for your purpose. As you work with these authorities, you must note at the moment of observation further authorities that may be worth looking into; and continue the same proc- ess with these until you cannot see a single trail that you have left unexplored. Each reference should be accurately copied and verified at the moment and in proper form (see Appendix II). Remember that your bibliography will not be complete when you begin to read; its most valuable items may come when you think that you are almost ready to begin to write. 3. Before you begin to read, it is well to note on a card the exact thing that you are going to prove or to disprove; for instance: Is the Kensington Rune Stone genuine or spurious? To answer this question, you will have to collect and test the evidence on both sides. But you have a fairly long bibliography. Where shall you begin to read? With RESEARCH WORK 383 the works that seem to bear the stamp of the best authority. In this case you have the reports of various professors and other experts. If you cannot at once choose among them, begin with the most recent, which should, if it is properly done, sum up all earlier work and show the present status of the problem. In reading, keep your question in mind as a hunting dog tries to keep the scent, never being tempted into byways; and note the facts and inferences presented as to the finding of the stone, its geological quality, its traces of age, the char- acter of the letters and the inscription everything that sug- gests antiquity or forgery. Then proceed to the authority that seems to you next in importance, preferably one who draws a different conclusion from that reached in the last work; and examine with equal care his facts and inferences. Continue the process until you feel that you have got before you all the facts in the case, each carefully noted on its card, with its reference. As you read, you wnll begin to form your conclusion, and you will begin to mass in your mind the facts that support it; you must be equally careful to mass over against these the facts that do not support it: this is a point which even good scholars sometimes neglect. But a paper which reaches only a tentative conclusion, frankly present- ing the difficulties as well as the facts upon which the con- clusion is based, is worth something; one that neglects the other side, is worth nothing. 4. In writing your paper, you should begin with a state- ment of the doubtful issue, or of the accepted hypothesis from which you take your point of departure, summing up in footnotes the authorities in which the material is to be found. You are then ready to present the reasons which led to your investigation, and to produce, according to some definite plan of development, your results. Spread out your cards on a large table and begin. For every step in the presentation you must refer to your 384 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH authority so that your reader can satisfy himself as to the correctness of each inference. To do this without clogging your text so that the argument is buried in a mass of de- tails, you must use footnotes. Your chief difficulty in this connection at first will be in deciding when to use footnotes. In general, they are used as follows: 1. Practically always for exact references to authorities; 2. For the explanation and amplification of supporting facts when these may possibly be misunderstood; 3. For the citation of facts in support of statements which have been generally accepted as true, but which the reader, on account of the limitations of his knowledge, may not at once accept without seeing the evidence. It is only after much practice, of course, that you will be able at once to discriminate between material for your text and for footnotes. For the form and placing of footnotes, see Appendix I, p. 413. These general directions may give you a starting-point for your investigation; but as the very essence of research work is independence, you will immediately have to begin to feel your way for yourself and train yourself as you go. SUGGESTED SUBJECTS FOR TERM PAPERS 1. The Kensington Rune Stone 2. The Early History of Football (or Hockey, or Golf, or Tennis) 3. The Origin of Phi Beta Kappa 4. The Canning Club Movement in the United States 5. Experiments in New Methods of City Government 6. The Beginnings of the Aeroplane (or the Submarine) 7. Inventions and Discoveries Due to the War 8. The Symbolism of Oriental Rugs 9. Patent Medicine Frauds in the United States 10. The Beginnings of Free Verse in the Twentieth Century 11. Shakespeare's Knowledge of Horses and Dogs 12. The Effect of Indian Music on Macdowell 13. The Housing Problem in (whatever city you have opportunity to study) RESEARCH WORK 385 14. The Life and Work of Ambrose Bierce 15. Experiments in Government Ownership of Railways 16. The Immediate Influence of the War on the Short-Story, as shown by a study of the Saturday Evening Post, September, 1914-March, 1915 17. The Immediate Influence of the War on Journalistic Vocabu- lary, as shown by a study of the New York Times, the Phila- delphia Ledger, the Boston Transcript, or the Chicago Tribune, August-October, 1914 18. The Career and Influence of Vincent d'Indy (or Claude Debussy, or Cesar Franck) 19. Vocational Education Experiments in (some city known to you) 20. The Beginnings of the Cubists 21. The Scandinavian Theory of Historical Museums 22. The Work and Influence of Luther Burbank CHAPTER XXII LETTER-WRITING 1. PERSONAL LETTERS THE success of a letter depends quite as much upon the recipient as upon the writer. Its first condition is a state of entire confidence and ease between the two persons concerned, the result of which is spontaneity. In short, the more a personal letter reproduces the informality of talk, the better it serves its purpose, which is to take the place of a friendly conversation. Perhaps the first rule for letter- writing is: Keep your correspondent in mind, and try to write what you would say to him in talk. If you once acquire this attitude, you will find yourself at no loss for something to say. Every letter that you write will take on a special character will be colored by the personality of your correspondent and by the nature of the relationship between you. Another rule for becoming a good letter-writer is to write often, not merely because you will gain the flexibility that comes from constant practice, but because if you are in close touch with your correspondent, you can begin each letter without apologies and summaries of long periods of time, and other introductory matter, chilling to the pen of the writer, and trying to the patience of the reader. Good form is one thing: formality another. Good form is essential. It means that you must use good paper of con- ventional size, neutral color, and plain; good ink and a good pen; that you should cover the pages in the right order, and number the sheets; that you should fold your letter LETTER-WRITING 387 properly, place it in the envelope properly, place the stamp on the envelope properly; use the correct forms for heading, greeting, close, signature, and address on the envelope in short, that you should conform to recognized good manners in letter- writing as in other aspects of life. If you are in doubt as to any of these points, you will find detailed direc- tions in Appendix I. Formality is unnecessary and burdensome to both writer and reader. It is based largely on the mistaken idea that circumlocution is polite, and crops out in expressions that seem to have survived from the days of the old Polite Letter- Writers the hoping-you-are-well-as-this-Ieaves-me kind of thing and the half unconscious multiplication of useless words vaguely supposed to "make it sound better." The remedy for this mode of expression is to pull yourself up short with the question: "Why not write it as I should say it?'* Be yourself. There is scarcely any subject which may not be made interesting in a letter, although personal afflictions and griev- ances usually need a good deal of the salt of humor to make them palatable. Unless this can be supplied, it is a happy second thought that posts letters on these topics in the fire. But no incident of daily life is too trivial to suggest the per- sonality of the writer which is of course the source of in- terest to the correspondent. Hear Stevenson on this point: I begin to see the whole scheme of letter-writing; you sit down every day and pour out an equable stream of twaddle. His own "twaddle" conjures up the liveliest sort of picture of himself and his life. In the same letter he tells how he had been working at the South Seas, how "Fanny, awfully hove-to with rheumatics and injuries received upon the field of sport and glory, chasing pigs, was unable to go up and down stairs, so she sat upon the back verandah, and my work was chequered by her cries." . . . 388 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Carlyle describing his meeting with Queen Victoria, does not stop with details about her appearance, manner, and words, but touches upon all sorts of trifles which help to make us realize the scene, such as: The Stanleys and we were all in a flow of talk, and some flunkies had done setting coffee-pots, tea-cups of sublime patterns, when Her Majesty, punctual to a minute, glided softly in ... a kindly smile on her face; gently shook hands with all three women, gently acknowledged with a nod the silent deep bows of us male monsters, and directly in her presence everybody was at ease again. . . . Coffee (very black and muddy) was handed round ; Queen and three women taking seats in opposite corners, Mrs. Grote in a chair in- trusively close to Majesty, Lady Lyall modestly at the diagonal corner; we others obliged to stand and hover within call. ... With a sense of humor, one can make a delightful letter out of a situation usually regarded as difficult to handle; for instance, Lewis Carroll made a page of fun out of birth- day congratulations, and Charles Lamb wrote a letter of thanks for a pig, which effervesces with high spirits. The art of letter-writing is worth cultivation. The gossip of Horace Walpole, the irrepressible variety of Charles Lamb, the chit-chat of Jane Austen, the pictorial vividness of the Carlyle letters, the romance of the Browning letters are more interesting than most novels. In fact, few volumes of letters are dull reading except such as are consciously lit- erary. You will find matter of interest almost anywhere, working back from the twentieth century, through the eight- eenth which is almost epitomized by Steele, Walpole, and Lady Mary Wortley Montague to the earliest familiar letters that have survived in English, the Paston letters of the fif- teenth century. Wide reading of letters by many interesting people will do more than anything else to stimulate your own powers in this direction. The chief difficulty in developing the art of letter-writing is the real or fancied pressure upon our time, which keeps us from free play with details for their own sake, the full LETTER-WRITING 389 quotation of what was said for its own sake, the leisurely comment, the yielding to mood and whim, which enter so largely into the old letters. As to this, all that can be said is that those who write and receive charming letters seem to find in them their own reward. It may be worth while to hint that wise people always read their letters carefully before despatching them. The first and last rule for answering letters is: Answer them and promptly. Few things in life are more annoying than to ask questions in a letter and to have either no answer at all or an answer that is vague or obscure. Carelessness in regard to the correspondent's point of view often leads to cross-purposes and estrangement between friends, or to a very unfavorable impression on the part of a stranger. For this reason, make a practice of always having your correspond- ent's letter at hand when you are replying to it. Refer to it often enough not only to answer any questions that it may contain, but also to make your letter fit into its mood. If the letter that you have to answer is a long one con- taining many details, you will find that it will save time and secure completeness if you will read the letter through care- fully, making notes as you go of the topics that you wish to discuss and the points you wish to make in your reply. You can then with a few moments' thought arrange these topics and points in the order in which you wish to take them up. A short, prompt reply is usually worth more than a tardy one twice as long. The Formal Invitation and the Reply to it are a special type of Personal Letter. To people who do not know how to write them, formal invitations are a bugbear. In reality they are very simple. In replying to a formal invitation of any kind, you have only to follow as closely as possible the style and phrasing of the invitation. In sending out such invitations it is well to be 390 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH guided by the advice of a good stationer, if the occasion de- mands engraved invitations; otherwise, to learn the simple formulas which are in general use. The three chief points to be remembered are: 1. Use the third person throughout. 2. Spell out all numerals, even your street number. 3. Arrange your spaces so that the note is "centered" on the page. The reasons behind these conventions are probably that the use of the third person is less familiar; that numerals are associated with business; and that "centering" gives an appearance of formal care. ASSIGNMENT 1. Look over half a dozen volumes of letters in your library, reading here and there such as attract you. Make notes of things that interest you in subject-matter or in treatment. Quote from each volume one or more passages which seem to you unusually charming or amusing, or otherwise worth note, and bring these, together with your own comments, to class for discussion on: What is an interesting letter? 2. Write a letter to anyone you please, or bring a letter that you have written, for class criticism as to paper and general matters of form. If it is found defective, repeat the exercise until no further criticism can be made by class or teacher. 3. Answer one of these letters, touching upon each point that it suggests. The answers should be criticized in class for both content and form. 4. Study carefully and in detail the forms on pp. 417f. and model after each an invitation and two replies, an acceptance and a note of regret. After class criticism correct and copy. 2. ROUTINE BUSINESS LETTERS Business letters are of two kinds: routine and construc- tive. Routine letters are very simple. The rules for them may be summed up under the letter C. They should be correct, LETTER- WRITING 391 clear, concise, and courteous, and, when written in reply, should consider the content of the correspondent's communi- cation. To be correct, they must be written in good form and in correct English. For details on these matters, see Appendix I pp. 418f. For the sake of clearness, a typewritten letter should be double-spaced, or if single-spaced, double-spaced between paragraphs. Sentences should tend to be short, for two reasons: because short sentences are more emphatic, and because they reduce the number of pronouns and so min- imize possible ambiguity of reference. A good practical way to train yourself in clearness is to read each letter aloud when it is written not merely read it, but read it aloud, and if you can, from the correspondent's point of view, asking yourself after each sentence: "What does this mean? Could it bear any other interpretation than that which first occurred to me?" After a time you will be able quickly to detect phrases and weirds that admit of mis- understanding. Many business men make it a rule to confine each letter to a single point, and for two reasons. One is, that the cor- respondent's full attention is thus secured for each point. If he reads a letter upon several matters, he naturally pays most attention to that in which he is chiefly interested. He may forget to consider the others; or if it is to his advan- tage to do so, he may deliberately omit to refer to them in his reply. The second reason is, that in many business houses letters are filed under their subjects. If a letter deals with several subjects, it is troublesome to file and if needed again it may be hard to find. If each letter is limited to a single point, conciseness is almost sure to result. Hence, the emphasis should be rather on courtesy. Remember that it always pays to take time to be courteous. The first rule of courtesy is to try to get 392 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH your correspondent's point of view; the second, to try to put yourself in his place; and the third, to write him such a letter as you yourself, in his circumstances, would be pleased to receive. Have you not noticed the invariable courtesy of the best firms even to the most insignificant people and in the most trifling matters? Courtesy demands also exactness in replying to the points of inquiry in the correspondent's letter. This saves time and energy, and is conducive to the establishment and main- tenance of friendly business relations. Routine business letters include inquiries and the replies to them; orders and letters accompanying the goods; cor- respondence in connection with errors in bills and the pay- ment of bills, etc. ASSIGNMENT 1. Collect as many business letters as you can. Lay aside those that seem to you to be constructive out of the usual routine of business; and discuss the routine letters, criticizing them as to form and content. 2. Write the following routine letters: (1) An order for goods (2) The firm's reply (3) A letter urging payment of a bill (4) A letter to a business man, asking for special information (5) His reply (6) A letter to an editor, offering a contribution (7) A formal letter of reference (8) As chairman of a committee, a report on the matter for which the committee was appointed. As far as you can, use as models the letters that you have col- lected and discussed; but do not hesitate to improve upon them. Refer to Appendix I when in doubt as to form. These letters should be read and discussed in class until you have no doubt as to the principles that govern all letters of these types. LETTER-WRITING 393 3. OFFICIAL AND FORM LETTERS In big business houses the practice is increasing of putting business letters between officials in the form of memoranda. The form of the letter is thus reduced to this: Smith, Brown, and Co. Credit Department Memorandum April 8, 1918 To Mr. E. C. Jayne Subject: Charles M. Martin 1. We have already filled the position to which you refer. 2. We suggest that Mr. Martin's services might be useful to the Shipping Department. G. H. Hill As you see, the greeting and close are discarded as unnec- essary and wasteful of time and money. Only one subject is discussed; and it is analyzed, and the headings are numbered so that the content of the letter can be seen at a glance. This form is convenient for writing and reading and filing; and it effects a saving of time and energy for writer, stenographer, and recipient. Form letters are of two types. One type is made up in the main of paragraphs which have previously been devised for all letters of its general character; and if anything out of the routine needs to be said, this is embodied in a special par- agraph. This special paragraph is the only one that requires the attention of the official who dictates the letter. The second type of form letter is simply a multigraphed letter; that is, it is written as a whole, adapted as well as possible to a large number of people, and then printed from type especially designed to give the appearance of type- writing. Sometimes it is sent without personal appeal; but 394 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH often the name of each person addressed is filled in with typewriting to match the rest of the letter as exactly as pos- sible. The signature is sometimes written with a pen; but often it, too, is a printed imitation. Such letters are used for many legitimate purposes; but there can be no doubt that many inexperienced persons are deceived into regarding them as genuine personal letters. The student who plans to write business letters profession- ally should make a careful study of the different types of letters used by people in different business relationships. No general rules can be given, because business transactions range from the formal memorandum, through ordinary business forms, to the purely personal communication of the familiar letter type. Even when all the forms have been learned, there is abundant occasion for the exercise of taste and judgment in deciding which form to use for each special case. Moreover, it is important to keep absolutely up to date, as forms are continually changing. ASSIGNMENT 1. Write in the form of official memoranda a letter from one official to another on a piece of business that involves several prob- lems and write the reply in the same form. 2. Prepare for use in a department store the opening and closing paragraphs of a form letter replying to a complaint and promising to investigate. 3. Write a form letter from the secretary of a charitable organ- ization, appealing for subscriptions and supporting the appeal by a brief statement of the work of the organization. 4. CONSTRUCTIVE BUSINESS LETTERS Constructive business letters letters written to do busi- ness are the commonest application to-day of the art of persuasion. They are written for the purpose of making the correspondent take the writer's point of view in a matter LETTER-WRITING 395 which the writer obviously urges for his own advantage. If the correspondent can be made to see that the advantage is mutual, the business is done. Success in this type of letter depends partly upon the writer's knowledge of the workings of the human mind, partly upon the degree to which he succeeds in taking his correspondent's point of view as the first step toward changing it, and partly upon the skill with which the letter is written. Experience with human nature tells the writer that the chances are that the recipient of the letter will be either in- different or disinclined to his proposition. The problem, then, is how to avoid increasing this disinclination, if it exists, how to overcome this indifference. The first step must be to begin with something that will attract his attention and hold it, that will appeal to his reason, his tastes, or his prejudices. If you know the individual to whom you are writing, your problem is greatly simplified. You can visualize him, and ask yourself: "How would old Sharpeye take this? " You know more or less about his tastes and his prejudices, and you can appeal to the one and avoid the other. When you do not know your correspondent, you have only general principles to guide you, such as the fact that people like to be comfortable, to be thought individual and up-to-date, to get their money's worth, to have as many conveniences and luxuries as their neighbors, and so on. You also know that different classes of people must be appealed to in dif- ferent ways. You will not write to a college professor, a farmer, a soapmaker, and a railway conductor in the same terms. If it is your business to write to them all, you will adapt the general principles of human nature to meet the peculiar developments of character that grow out of occupa- tion and habit. When you have made up your mind as to the land of letter 396 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH that will probably appeal to your correspondent, you will try to put yourself in his place, asking yourself: "If I were Professor Gaunt or Farmer Hayrick, what should I say to myself on reading such a letter? " And in accordance with the answer that you make to yourself, your letter should be re- vised and rephrased. Naturally, the more experience you have of people, the nearer will you come to guessing right the first time. The style of the letter will vary according to your concep- tion of its recipient; but in most cases reasonableness has a better effect than dogmatic statement or even strict argu- ment. People like to be led imperceptibly, and to believe that the decisions which they are helped to make are really of their own making. However much "punch" and "pep'* you use in stating the advantages of your proposition and many persons resent "punch" and "pep," and decline to be '' hustled " the main thing is to establish in your corre- spondent by suggestion the feeling that he will be the loser if he does not agree to the plan you propose. If you form the habit of examining critically all sorts of business proposals, you will soon learn to recognize those that have the right tone and get results. You can judge in some measure by noting their effect upon yourself, and then analyzing them to see why they had such an effect. Careful study of successful letters is the best means of becoming a writer of such letters. ASSIGNMENT 1. Discuss such constructive business letters as you have been able to obtain, by analyzing their effects upon yourself. 2. Write a business letter addressed to some business man of your acquaintance, trying to sell him a house. Keep in mind throughout your letter the kind of man with whom you are dealing, and also the kind of house; try to make him see that the house will exactly meet his requirements. LETTER-WRITING 397 3. These letters being exchanged, reply to the one that you re- ceive, according to the effect that it makes upon you. If it makes you feel strongly inclined to buy, write a letter in which you try to arrange for better terms. If you are not persuaded that the pur- chase is advisable, your reply will be an unfavorable criticism of the original letter. This correspondence may be continued until several letters have been exchanged. 4. Cut out three "Help Wanted" notices from a newspaper, and answer them in such a way that the advertiser will wish to engage you rather than the other applicants. 5. These letters should be exchanged and answered in the person of the advertiser. The reply will show the success of the original letter. C. The whole class should reply to one or more advertisements chosen by the instructor; and the best among these replies should form the basis of class discussion. 7. Write a letter to your senator on some matter that concerns the public welfare. 8. Write a letter to your newspaper, complaining of some public nuisance. CHAPTER XXIII VERSE 1. METER THERE are three elements in the rhythm of verse. In addition to word accent, and emphasis according to the meaning of the sentence, a regular arrangement of. so many stressed and so many unstressed syllables is imposed upon each line. As a rule either one or two unstressed syllables are combined with a stressed syllable to form what is called a foot. The feet commonly recognized in English are: 1. One unstressed syllable followed by one stressed: iam- bus, iambic foot: She knows not what the curse may be, And so, she weaveth steadily, > i t i And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. Tennyson. 2. One stressed syllable followed by one unstressed: tro- chee, trochaic foot: Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver, Thro' the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. . . . Tennyson. 3. Two unstressed syllables followed by one stressed sylla- ble: anapest, anapestic foot: 398 VERSE 399 And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; 4. One stressed syllable followed by two unstressed sylla- bles: dactyl, dactylic foot: Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow (hollow = trochee) Suvinburne. 5. Two stressed syllables, one of which represents either one or two unstressed syllables: spondee, spondaic foot: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. . . . Tennyson. Here the syllables day, moon, moans, take the place of a single unstressed syllable. Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow. . . . Swinburne. Here the syllable birds represents two unstressed syllables. You will find by experiment in reading aloud that the lines beginning with stressed syllables move more quickly and lightly than those beginning with unstressed syllables, that the dactyl is quicker than the trochee because of the additional unstressed syllable, and that the spondee with its two stressed syllables is slowest of all. Note the effect of the two spondees in the fifth example. These five feet are variously combined in lines of different lengths. Usually the dactyls and trochees are found to- gether, and the anapests and iambi; the spondees may be used anywhere. But perhaps the commonest substitution of all is the trochee for the iambus: I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees : all times I have enjoy'd 400 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone Tennyson. The commonest line in English is the iambic pentameter, consisting of five iambi, with occasional substitution of trochees or spondees a substitution especially common in the first foot. In the following examples, note how the word accent and the emphasis required to bring out the sense, and the beat of the verse at times come together and again fall apart: And the first grey of morning fill'd the east. And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all the Tartar camp along the stream Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep; Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed; .... Matthew Arnold. Here, as it happens, the word accents all coincide with the verse accents; but the verse accents and sense stresses diverge widely. Sometimes the sense requires as many as eight stresses, sometimes only four; and the verse accents fall on words quite unimportant to the sense. The art of reading such verse consists in keeping a nice adjustment between the different stresses, letting the five beats of the line be felt distinctly, and yet throwing the main emphasis on the sense. The iambic pentameter line unrhymed is called blank verse. As in the passage quoted above, it contains usually more or less than the five stresses normal to the meter. According to the sense, the commonest number of stresses is four; but three are found also: In offices of tenderness and pay Wordsworth. VERSE 401 And, on the other hand, there may be as many as eight or even more. Of rhyming lines, very common is the pentameter couplet, called the heroic couplet: Tis hard to say if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill, . . . Pope Common also is the four foot tetrameter couplet: The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace. . . .Scott. As parts of different stanza forms, we find also one-foot lines (monometer), two-foot lines (dimeter), three-foot lines (trimeter), six-foot lines (hexameter), and even seven-foot lines (heptameter) . These it is not necessary to discuss, as they combine in all sorts of ways and consist of all kinds of combinations of feet. Of stanzaic arrangements of lines, the commonest are: the four-line stanza (ballad meter); six-line stanza; eight-line stanza (ottava rima); the seven-line stanza (rhyme-royal), the nine-line stanza (Spenserian); the twelve-line stanza; and the sonnet (fourteen-line poem in stanzaic form). The six, eight, and twelve-line stanzas are various arrangements of five, four, and three feet; and the rhyme schemes are in all sorts of patterns. We shall speak in more detail of the other stanza forms. In addition to rhyme, which is a structural feature in binding couplets together and stanzas together, English uses as a device for ornament alliteration the association of a group of words by beginning them with the same letter. In Old English this was structural that is, it held together the 402 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH two parts of a line: In a summer season when soft was the Sunshine. To-day, however, the alliteration is inserted at irregular intervals, to link together words already associated closely in sense; they thus become doubly rememberable : . . . magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Keats. Alliteration is only one of the many devices for associating sounds to secure particular effects . The study of the group- ings of vowels and consonants for the sake of their tone values would make a separate book; but even now, in connec- tion with the study of verse, you can train your eye and ear to observe the difference between the work of poets who use sounds in this way and those who do not. Compare, for instance, Keats's poems any of them with Scott's; com- pare Lanier's, or Poe's or Moody's with Lowell's, or Bryant's or Whittier's. These last have merits of other sorts; but the devices of tone manipulation seem to have been used, when at all, unconsciously by them. There has always been some poetry that did not conform to the principles outlined above; but within recent years the tendency has become much more marked, and free verse, as it is called, that is, verse of which the length and the accent are determined by the content and not restricted by measure or by rhyme is much cultivated. Into the merits and possibilities of this form, this is not the place to enter. When it is practised by a genius like Walt Whitman, or Ed- ward Carpenter, it acquires a magnificent swing; but when it is written by people who find the difficulties of measured verse beyond them, it is not distinguishable from prose. ASSIGNMENT 1. The following passage is blank verse rearranged without alter- ing a word. Restore it to the correct form, and mark the stresses. VERSE 403 Show where word accent, emphasis to bring out meaning, and verse stress coincide and where they diverge: For he seem'd very young, reared tenderly; tall, and dark, and straight, like some young cypress, which, by midnight, throws on the moonlit turf its slight dark shadow to a bubbling fountain's sound, in a queen's secluded garden. Matthew Arnold. 2. The following passage is rearranged without altering a word from a poem in rhyming tetrameter couplets. Restore the original form and describe it: Then came in the merry maskers, and roared carols with blithe- some din; if the song was unmelodious, it was a strong and hearty note. Who lists may see in their mumming traces of ancient mys- tery; white skirts supplied the masquerade, and smutted cheeks made the visors: But oh what richly dight maskers can boast of half so light bosoms? When old Christmas brought his sports again, England was merry England. Scott. 3. Turn the following prose into blank verse, changing the words as little as possible: Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair: it is kept all the year long; it beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than van- ity; and also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity. As is the saying of the wise, "All that cometh is vanity." Bunyan. 2. THE BALLAD The ballad was to the people in the Middle Ages what the short story is to-day. It was usually episodic in character; and sometimes there grew up a group of episodes concerning the same characters, as in the Robin Hood Ballads. Before you try your hand at a ballad, let us study the form and content of one that is fairly typical. Note first of all the meter a four-lines tanza, consisting alternately of four-and three-stress lines, of which only the second and fourth rhyme. Ballads are written in other meters, but this is the com- monest: 404 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH SIB PATRICK SPENS The king sits in Dunfermling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine: "O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine? " The opening lines picture the situation (in some ballads the time also is given, as: "It befell at Martynmas"). Then the plot begins to move with an abrupt quotation without any word to show who the speaker is. Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt kne: "Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, That sails upon the se." Here the first line shows inversion of the natural sentence order; and the phrasing is of a conventional type repeated again and again in the various ballads. The second line omits the pronoun subject also a common feature. The third and fourth lines show the use of alliteration, which is very common. The king has written a braid letter, And signed it wi his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. Here the only new point to note is the picturing of insignifi- cant details. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. "O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se VERSE 405 In the first stanza we have an alliterative phrase; and the third line repeats with a slight variation the content of the first. In the second stanza, the first line is exclamatory, introduced by 0; more, the speech is given without intro- ductory words. These are all common ballad features. "Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne:" "O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. Here we have the repetition of a phrase, besides the allitera- tion in the first line. In the third line, we find a change of speaker, without any indication beyond the content of the spoken words. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone, Wi the auld moone in hir arme, And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will cum to harme." Here we have a different ballad feature allusion to omens : O our Scots nobles wer richt laith To weet their cork-heild schoone; Bot lang owre a' the play were playd, Thair hats they swam aboone. Note the exclamatory form, the strong contrast: the men who were loth to wet the heels of their fine shoes swam so deep that the water rose above their hats; that is, they were drowned. This indirect way of getting over an event by means of some apparently trivial detail which suggests the whole is also characteristic of the ballad. O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. Here we have a picture again; and its effectiveness is in- creased by the suggestive contrast between the trivial de- 406 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH tail and the sorrowful state of mind. The alliteration of I is very pronounced. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kerns in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his feit. Note the repetitions, not merely within the stanza, but linking stanza to stanza. In the last two stanzas, the only new points to be noted are the definite localization of the disaster, and the use of numbers in measurement. What other features do you find? Taking the ballad as a whole, observe that it does not so much relate what happened as give the accompanying de- tails which from their emotional significance suggest what occurred. Although few ballads carry suggestion to such a degree as does this one, they all have a tendency to depend upon the intuition and emotion of the audience to fill out the story. They are more concerned with the emotional effect than with the logic of the presentation. Sometimes one or more refrains occur unrelated or meaningless ex- pressions of emotion, as : " Hey lilelu an a how low Ian An it's hey down down deedle airo." ASSIGNMENT 1. Collect in the form of a 300-word report your notes on the characteristics of the ballad. 2. If possible, read other ballads (Manly's English Prose and Poetry, pp. 74-84); then write a ballad of 10 or more stanzas, trying to use as many of the ballad features as you can. Choose for VERSE 407 your subject some familiar old story or character; or you may use one of the following: The Green Knight (Manly, English Prose and Poetry, pp. 37-46, with note) The Death of Arthur (ibid., pp. 84-86) The Lady of the Land (ibid., pp. 31-32) The Battle of Otterburn (ibid., pp. 77-80), writing from the women's point of view. 3. COMMON STANZA FORMS Two of the most striking stanzas in English are built upon the same basis the eight-line iambic pentameter stanza (ottava rima), rhyming ababbcbc, which is not common. The stanzas based upon it are: rhyme royal (so named from King James I of Scotland who used it), which drops the seventh line, and thus has the rhyme scheme ababbcc; and the Spenserian stanza (named from Edmund Spenser, who invented it in his Faerie Queene), which adds a ninth line containing six iambic feet the alexandrine rhyming with the eighth line, thus rhyming ababbcbcc. There are two ways of becoming familiar with these stanzas: one is to read much verse written in them; the other is to practise writing a few verses in each. Among the famous poems written in the rhyme royal are: Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida and William Morris's The Lady of the Land. Among the famous poems in the Spenserian stanza are Spenser's Faerie Queene, Shelley's Adonais, and Keats's Eve of St. Agnes. ASSIGNMENT 1. Study the following stanza carefully, and write the prose be- low it in the same form: "It happened once, some men of Italy Midst the Greek Islands went a sea-roving, And much good fortune had they on the sea: Of many a man they had the ransoming, And many a chain they gat, and goodly thing; 408 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH And midst their voyage to an isle they came, Whereof my story keepeth not the name." William Morris. Thus did he come at last to the castle, but when he drew near unto the gateway, and passed underneath its ruined archway into a court, he did hear a strange noise, and there shot a pang of fear through his heart; he, trembling, gat into his hand his sword, and took his stand midmost of the cloisters. 2. The following is an example of the Spenserian stanza. Write the prose below it in the same form: " There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, from which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal." Byron. Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart with a pure passion? should I not contemn all objects, if compared with these? and stem a tide of suffering rather than forego such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm of those whose eyes, gazing upon the ground, are only turned below, with thoughts which dare not glow? 4. THE SONNET One of the commonest of verse forms to-day is the sonnet, which was borrowed from an Italian form in the 16th century. It consists of fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, embody- ing a single main thought which is viewed usually from two more or less contrasted aspects. The first aspect usually ends with the eighth line; and the first eight lines are called the octave, while the last six lines are called the sestet. In their rhyme schemes sonnets fall into two main groups, the first of which follow the Italian form more closely, while the second use an English adaptation of it made in the 16th century. Milton is the great exponent of the Italian type. VERSE 409 which has also been much used by modern sonneteers Wordsworth, the Brownings, the Rossettis, and others; while Shakespeare is the chief exponent of the English type. In the Italian type, the octave is as a rule rigid in structure, the commonest form of it being abbaabba, containing only two rhymes, while the sestet shows all sorts of variations, containing often, however, in different arrangements, the rhymes cde. The English type falls into four divisions: three qua- trains, and a concluding couplet, with the rhyme scheme ababcdcdef ef gg. There are some variations ; but this arrange- ment is preponderant. Sonnets are easy to write, partly because the form itself somewhat definitely limits the thought, and partly because the lines are long enough to give plenty of scope for expres- sion of it. Practice in sonnet writing is especially valuable for fixing the attention upon the problems connected with the writing of verse. ASSIGNMENT 1. Study the following sonnet of the Italian type, and then con- vert, without changing a word, the prose below it into a sonnet of the same type: Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land ; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day by day, You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. Christina Rosseti. 410 THE WRITING OF ENGLISH A flock of sheep that pass by leisurely, one after one; the sound of rain, and murmuring bees; the fall of seas, rivers, and winds; smooth fields, pure sky, and white sheets of water: I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie sleepless, and soon must hear the small birds' melodies, uttered first from my orchard trees, and the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus I lay last night, and two nights more, and could not by any stealth win thee, Sleep! Do not let me wear tonight away so. What is all the morning's wealth without Thee? Come, dear mother of joyous health and fresh thoughts, blessed barrier between day and day! 2. Study the following sonnet of the English type, and then change the prose into another sonnet of the same form: "When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings." Shakespeare. When I am dead no longer mourn for me than you shall hear the surly sullen bell give warning to the world that I am fled from this vile world, to dwell with vilest worms: Nay, remember not, if you read this line, the hand that writ it; for I love you so that I would be forgot in your sweet thoughts if thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, when I am perhaps compounded with clay, you look upon this verse, do not rehearse so much as my poor name, but let your love decay even with my life, lest after I am gone the wise world should look into your moan and mock you with me. APPENDIX APPENDIX GOOD FORM IN WRITING Rules for Manuscript 1. Use good, unlined paper, 8 x 11| inches. 2. Never roll the sheets, and never fasten them together except with a detachable metal clip. Send manuscript, folded only once or not at all, in strong manila paper envelopes, with postage to cover its return. 3. Place your full address at both the beginning and the end of the manuscript. 4. Write the title in capitals at the top of the first page. Do not quote or underline the title. 5. Number the pages in arabic numerals. Additional pages, after the paper is finished, may be inserted by num- bering them la, 2a, 2b, etc. 6. Write on one side of the sheet only. 7. Typewrite if possible. If not, take great pains to write legibly (cf. 42). 8. Footnotes should be inserted on the page immediately after the word or passage to which they refer, and this should be marked with an index number. Draw lines above and below the note to separate it from the body of the text. In typewriting use single spacing for notes. Thus: had a goose for his ensign, whence it is that some learned men pretend to deduce his original from Jupiter Capitolinus. 1 At his left 1 alluding to the story that Rome was saved by the cackling of geese 9. A translation or short explanation, as in 8, may be 413 414 APPENDIX I given without capitals or punctuation; but a long note fol- lows the usual rules. 10. References should be given in as brief form as is consistent with perfect clearness: Cf. Genesis, iv:21. Cf. Hamlet, HI, ii. Iff. 11. In repeating immediately a reference to a book, the abbreviation ibid, (in the same place) is used: The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. Skeat, I, 24. Ibid., p. 35. If, however, another title intervenes, ibid, cannot be used, as it always means " the same reference as that immediately preceding." The repetition of a long title is avoided by the abbrevia- tion op. cit. (work cited) with the author's name and the page reference, thus: Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, I, 276. Gibbon, op. cit., II, 115. But such reference must never be made unless the title has been given in full earlier, and unless the reference is un- ambiguous. 12. An article or a periodical can be referred to briefly by means of loc. cit. (the place cited), if the name has recently been given in full: Modern Philology, VI, 297. Loc. cit., 299. 13. Observe that when a volume number is necessary, it should be in Roman numerals. After such a numeral, the page number is sufficient, without the abbreviation p. for page. But when there is no volume number, p. should be used: Op. cit., p. 289. For abbreviations to be used in footnotes, cf. 132. 14. Leave margins as follows: (1) Below the title at least an inch. GOOD FORM 415 (2) On the left, from half an inch to an inch and a half. More is needed for large writing than for small. (3) On the right, enough to keep the letters from crowding to the edge of the page. (4) At the bottom, and at the top of each page after the first, enough to avoid the appearance of crowding. (5) At the beginning of each paragraph, enough inden- tion (half an inch or so) to make the paragraphing appear at a glance. In general, train your eye by observation and experiment until you have a sense of good proportion in this respect. 15. In quoting verse, try to place your lines so that they will not have to be carried over. When, however, carrying over is unavoidable, indent your left-over part further to the right than the margin for the beginning of each line; and see that your practice is uniform. 16. For blank verse and couplets the margin is everywhere the same except at the beginning of a paragraph. In quoting irregular forms of verse, follow the author's practice in regard to indention. 17. Outlines are subject to the same rules as verse: see 15, above. Rules for Personal Letters 18. Exercise judgment and care in regard to mechanical details. Use good, unlined paper, 5 x 6| inches, white, cream, or neutral tinted; and envelopes that fit and match the paper. Avoid, as you would the plague, gilt edges, stamped in- itials and other ornaments, and perfume. Write with good blue or black ink, and a pen that does not dig holes in the paper. Pencil should never be used if ink is procurable. 19. The heading of a letter should include the full post- office address and date. 20. Names of streets, towns, states, and countries should be spelled out in full except when they are very long, as D. C., U. S. A., etc. 416 APPENDIX I 21. A house number should be given in numerals, but a number used for a street should be spelled out unless it is very long above one hundred, for instance. 22. The day of the month and the year should be given in numerals. It is no longer customary to add -st, -nd, -rd, -th, to the number of the day. 23. The heading should begin to the right of the center of the page, and each line should be further to the right than the one above, thus : 119a East Ward Street New York City June 6, 1918 16 Chestnut Boulevard Seattle, Washington July 1, 1918 Observe that the only punctuation used is a comma between the names of town and state, and between the day of the month and the year. This is the best modern usage. 24. In an informal note to a friend the heading may be omitted, with the exception of the date, which, in this event, should be at the end and to the left of the signature. In fact, in intimate personal letters a large amount of devia- tion from the usual customs of good form is indulged in even by the most cultivated writers; but the beginner who allows himself much liberty in this respect runs the risk of estab- lishing careless habits which he is likely to carry over into formal writing. 25. In the greeting, note that My dear Mr. Smith is more formal than Dear Mr. Smith. The greeting should always be followed by a comma only, never by comma and dash, semicolon, or colon and dash. 26. The pages should be covered as they come when the paper lies with the folded edge at the left. Do not write on the fourth page until the second and third pages have been covered; do not begin with the fourth page; and when you know that your letter will cover more than one page but less than two, write on the first and third pages. GOOD FORM 417 27. It is not necessary to number the pages; but if more than one sheet is covered, the sheets should be numbered. 28. Do not write lengthwise of any of the pages. Do not write in the margin, or above the heading. Never cross your writing. 29. The close may be an adverb followed or preceded by yours, which is punctuated with a comma (Sincerely yours,) or Your followed by an adjective, which is used without a comma (Your loving). It is not good form to use an adverb alone (Sincerely). 30. The signature should not be followed by a period. 31. Envelopes should be addressed without punctuation except for abbreviations. The lines may be written keeping the same margin at the left, or progressing gradually to the right. The former method is the newer. 32. Avoid the following: No. before a street number P. 0. before Box City for the name of the city To unless the address begins with The Cfo for Care of The use of a man's title in addressing his wife, as: Mrs. Dr. Smith. Formal Letters 33. These have become almost stereotyped. The follow- ing may be adapted to any social occasion: FORMAL INVITATION Miss Eleanor Beecher requests the pleasure of Miss Janet Taylor's company at luncheon on Friday, May twentieth, at half-past one o'clock, to meet Miss Jane Cunningham. Please reply. 52 Scott Street. ACCEPTANCE Miss Janet Taylor accepts with pleasure Miss Beecher's kind invitation to meet Miss Cunningham at luncheon on Friday, May twentieth, at half-past one o'clock. Eighty-two Division Street. 418 APPENDIX I DECLINATION Miss Janet Taylor regrets that a previous engagement prevents her acceptance of Miss Beecher's kind invitation to luncheon on Friday, May twentieth. Eighty- two Division St., May tenth. A reply to an invitation issued by two people jointly, should be addressed to the senior; or if by husband and wife, to the wife. Observe that in an acceptance the hour of the event to which the invitation refers should be stated. In declining an invitation, it is not necessary to mention the hour. Rules for Business Letters 34. Rules, 1, 5, 6, 7, and 14, (2)-(5), under Manuscript, and 19-23, and 30-32, under Personal Letters apply to Busi- ness Letters also. 35. Place immediately above the greeting your corre- spondent's full address, thus: (1) Square (2) En Echelon Mr. G. A. Adams Or: Mr. G. A. Adams Hyde Building Hyde Building Omaha, Nebraska. Omaha, Nebraska. Dear Sir: Dear Sir: The lines may be arranged with equal indention, as in (1), or indented progressively toward the right, as in (2). The former is the newer way. 36. A period should be placed at the end of the address; and the simplest punctuation after the greeting is the colon, which is to be preferred to the comma as being more formal. 37. The preferred forms of greeting for business letters are: Dear Sir; Dear Madam; Gentlemen or Dear Sirs; and Mesdames. Under no circumstances should such forms as Dear Friend; Dear Miss; Friend Perkins; Mess.; Gents be used. 38. For a stranger the best form of close is: Yours very truly, or Very truly yours. For a business letter to an ac- quaintance, or even a friend, the usual close is Sincerely GOOD FORM 419 yours. Respectfully is to be avoided. / remain implies (previous acquaintance. 39. A married woman writing to a stranger should always sign herself in the form given below: Winifred M. Ewart (Mrs. J. H.). It is not necessary for an unmarried woman to write (Miss) after her name; but she should always spell out her Christian name instead of using merely initials. 40. A business letter to a friend should observe all the formalities used in any business letter if it is to be placed on file where it may be read by strangers. 41. Fold business letters as follows: If there are two or more pages, place them so that the edges are even; holding them firmly, bring the bottom edges up even with the top edges, and crease the middle sharply; turn the crease to the left, fold the edge nearest you back to about two-thirds the height of the paper, and bring the top edge toward you, creas- ing neatly each time. Place the folded sheets in the evelope with the opening of the last fold toward the opening of the envelope. Penmanship 42. Illegibility is not a mark of distinction; in a young person sound in body and in mind it is merely indicative of carelessness and lack of courtesy. The following hints may help you : (1) Aim to normalize your writing in size. Both large and small writing try the eyes and the patience of the reader. (2) Leave spaces equivalent to at least two letters be- tween words; more between sentences within the paragraph, but never more than twice as much as between words. Never leave half a line vacant after a sentence and begin the next sentence at the margin. (3) Keep your lines far enough apart to prevent the long strokes of the letters from crossing. (4) Never connect words or fail to connect all the letters of one word. 420 APPENDIX II (5) Keep punctuation marks distinct from the letters: dot all i's and j's, and cross all t's and x's. (6) Write with unusual care all letters which are easily confused with others, as n and u, a and o, h and k. (7) Take special care with all proper names. (8) It is bad taste to use unnecessary strokes or flourishes, or shading, or to give your letters eccentric forms. II NOTE-TAKING Library Notes 43. MATERIALS: (1) Packets of cards or blocks of paper always of the same size. Library index cards (3x5 inches) or blocks of that size are convenient. If you use the paper blocks, the backs will support your pages. The cards are better, but the paper is much cheaper. (2) Cards or paper of several different colors to be used for guides to different subjects or phases of a subject. (3) Elastic bands for holding your cards together until they are filed. (4) Library Index boxes. Library boxes (6 x 11 inches) may be bought at small cost; or shoe boxes will serve the purpose. If you keep notes on more than one subject in the same box, you should not fail to use guide cards, alphabetically or systematically arranged. 44. METHODS: (1) Write on one side of the card only. (2) Choose whether you will write the long way or the short way of the card; and stick to your choice. The long way is better because it enables you to read a card without removing it from the index box. (3) Write legibly. (4) Leave generous spaces. You will save time by so doing. (5) Write the subject in the upper left-hand corner of the card. NOTE-TAKING 421 (6) Put only one point on a card. (7) If a point is too long for one card, cany the heading over to a second card, and number the second card. (8) Give the authority for each fact on the same card with it. (9) Make every reference so complete that you can turn without delay to the place. The reference should include: Author's name; with Christian name or initials, if the surname is common or belongs to more than one well-known author. Full title, though the words may be abbreviated. Date of edition; page numbers vary in different editions. Volume number in Roman numerals. Page number. Note Card Art, Shakespeare's knowledge of Lucrece 1366-1561 perh. sugg. by Fr. or Flem. tapestries, ab. 1480-1500. See S. Colvin, in A Book of Homage to Shakesp., ed. I. Gollancz, London, 1916, p. 99. (10) When you quote, quote exactly, inserting capitals,, italics, punctuation, just as they stand in the text; and never by any chance omit quotation marks. (11) When you are summarizing the ideas of a passage, you can save space in two ways: (1) by omitting articles, copulas, connectives, and in general words that are struc- tural in function and contribute nothing to the ideas; and (2) by abbreviating and contracting words that occur frequently, as, for example: hist[ory]; Rom[an] Emp[ire]; M[iddle] Afges]; feudalism]; H'y 8; Kath[erine] of Ar[agon} parl't; literature] ; etc., etc. In short, practice abbrevia- 422 APPENDIX II tion wherever you can without loss of clearness, but bear in mind that an abbreviation that is easily intelligible when you make it may become uncertain and unintelligible in a year. You should make your own system and stick to it. (12) If you do not wish to quote, and still find it difficult to get away from the words of your authority, close your book and make notes from memory; then verify your statements by comparison. (13) Unless the quotation is either more condensed or to a marked degree more effective than your own wording, take the gist of a statement rather than an exact transcript. (14) In making a bibliography, write only one title on a card; and give complete information, thus: (a) Author's full name; (b) complete title; (c) name of series, if the work belongs to a series, or name of publication, if it is part of a larger work or of a periodical; (d) publisher's name; (e) place or places of publication; (f) date of publication. Bibliography Card Wheatley, Henry B. How to Make an Index pp. xii+236 (The Book Lover's Library) Elliot Stock, London, 1902 Class Notes 45. MATERIALS: (1) Use a loose-leaved notebook, as this gives greater flexibility in omitting and adding to your material. (2) Write in ink. Pencil rubs and becomes untidy and indistinct. 46. METHODS: (1) Leave generous spaces, so that you can see at a glance the content of a page. (2) Make your notes reproduce the outline of the lee- NOTE-TAKING 423 ture as far as possible. Listen for the statement of heads and subheads the topic sentences of paragraphs. (3) Note with extreme care all references, as these will help you to fill out your outline. (4) Omit anecdotes, and detailed illustrations. These tend to clog the main line of thought. (5) Write all names and dates with great care. (6) Make your own system of abbreviation for words, and stick to it. See 44 (11). It is a good plan to have a key of your abbreviations in the front of your notebook, for reference in case of doubt as to your meaning. (7) Learn to omit the unimportant words in the sen- tence; that is, words readily supplied from the context, such as: articles and demonstrative adjectives, the copula, adverbs, and non-essential adjectives. 47. Try to make your notes progressive in value. Mere practice is not enough for success in this direction; attention and ingenuity in devising better individual methods, adapted to each subject, are necessary. The habit of taking a few notes that will suggest and bring before the mind the whole substance of a lecture is well worth while; but the practice of setting down a number of stray sen- tences that mean little or nothing when they are read afterward is obviously a waste of time. Unless you can learn to take notes properly, it is better to train your memory to carry the lecture as a whole, and then try to write a digest of it after you leave the classroom; but this process is more difficult for the beginner than taking notes in class. Ill CAPITALS AND ITALICS 48. Capital letters and italic type are two means com- monly used by printers to help bring out the exact meaning of written language. In this respect they are like punctua- tion. There are two ways to learn to use capitals and 424 APPENDIX III italics properly, just as there are two ways to learn punctua- tion: one is to memorize a large number of detailed rules and examples; the other and better way is to understand the real meaning of a few principles and apply them with ordinary intelligence. Capitals 49. Capitals are used for two fundamental purposes: (1) to indicate the beginning of a thought-unit that is to be marked off as in some way independent, separated from what precedes it; (2) to indicate a personal name or the equivalent of one. I. CAPITALS TO MARK BEGINNINGS OF THOUGHT-UNITS 50. Capitalize the first word of every sentence, direct, or quoted, or standing alone in parenthesis: He asked, "Who did this?" Charles. (He speaks slowly.) Ma-ry! 51. But do not capitalize the first word of a parenthetical sentence that is thrust into another sentence: There was a loud noise (never have I heard anything so terrify- ing) in the next room. 52. Do not capitalize the first word of any clause of an interrogative compound sentence except the first: Who will feed them? and who will clothe them? and who will pay the rent? 53. Do not capitalize the first word of a quotation that is not a sentence. These are "winged words," in a sense never dreamed of by Homer. 54. Capitalize the first word after a colon when it in- troduces a complete passage or a sentence not closely con- nected with what precedes: In conclusion, I wish to say this : These illustrations are all typical, not exceptional, cases. CAPITALS AND ITALICS 425 55. The expressions as follows, namely, to wit, and thus and as used in the same sense, are always followed by the colon, and usually they set off what follows from what precedes the colon so distinctly that a capital is needed to begin the sentence after the colon. 56. Capitalize the first word in sections of an enumera- tion, if any member contains two or more clauses sep- arated by a semicolon or comma: My reasons for going are these: (1) My friends want me to come, and this is my only chance of seeing Clara for many years; (2) It seems possible to get the money now; (3) My health will be im- mensely improved by the trip; and (4) There should be in Kashmir much new and interesting material for a book. 57. Do not capitalize short items words or phrases of an informal enumeration: This is my daily program: rise at seven; breakfast at eight; work till one . . . 58. In any itemized list paragraphed separately, as in an order for merchandise, capitalize the first word of each item: Gentlemen: Please send me the following articles: Ten yards of ribbon to match sample Five yards of silk One pair of white glace" kid gloves, size 6^ 59. In resolutions, capitalize the first word after Whereas and Resolved, and the first word in each new paragraph or section, whether the introductory word is repeated, or not: Resolved, That the Illinois Congress of Mothers urges more simple living, in order that the fathers may have the opportunity to enjoy the full measure of their privileges and responsibilities in regard to their children. That we recommend simplicity and inexpensive dressing for schoolgirls of all ages, and inasmuch as precept is more effective if accompanied by example, we strongly urge upon mothers to avoid extreme styles and adopt for themselves a simple, modest, and becoming style of dress. 426 APPENDIX HI 60. Capitalize the first word of every line of verse. 61. Capitalize the first word in the salutation of a letter: Dear Emma; My dear Fred II. CAPITALS FOB PROPER NAMES 62. Capitalize proper names of all persons (human or divine), places, and things, or any words used as such: Henry Jones; Jupiter; Vishnu; Eclipse (a horse); Australia; the Massachusetts General Court; Bunker Hill Monument; the White Star Line; the Bay of Fundy; the Finance Committee; Lower California; Broad Street Station; Rhode Island Avenue; the United States Army; Cook County; the Seventh Ward; a Social Democrat; the Fifth Avenue Church. 63. Fanciful and informal or popular appellations are treated as real names: the Keystone State; the Windy City; the Hub; the Monument; the White House; the Pension Office (for the Bureau of Pensions); the Army; the Government; the Treasury; the South; the Middle West; the French Revolution; the Renaissance; the Age of Eliza- beth; the Thirty Years' War; the Battle of the Marne; the Old World; the Reformers; the Falls (meaning Niagara, for example). 64. The names of the months and the days of the week and of civic holidays and special days of historical or ecclesiastic significance are treated as proper names; the names of the seasons are not: July; Monday; Labor Day; Washington's Birthday; Ash Wednes- day; the Feast of Tabernacles; Pentecost; Valentine's Day; April Fools' Day; but spring; summer; autumn; winter. 65. Abstract nouns are logically proper nouns, but they are capitalized only when personified: a child of Nature; Vice is a monster. 66. Do not capitalize words merely added to a specific name and not forming a real part of it or words that express a general or a descriptive designation as distinguished from a specific name: the river Rhine; the lower Mississippi; the empire of Japan; the state legislature; the committee; the department; the army CAPITALS AND ITALICS 427 and navy of Great Britain; the college at Watertown; a true demo- crat; five Baptist churches; a Utopia; a philistine; a bohemian; morocco (leather); ampere; ohm; kilowatt. 67. Capitalize all terms used to designate the Supreme Being or Power or the Persons of the Christian Trinity: the Absolute; the Almighty; the First Cause; the Ruler of the universe; the Holy Spirit; the Son; the Messiah; the Logos; the Word. 68. Capitalize personal pronouns referring to God or Christ only when used without an expressed antecedent: Worship His name in the beauty of holiness; Trust Him who ruleth all things; Suffer the little children, and forbid them not to come unto Me. But: And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. 69. Capitalize titles of office, of honor, or of courtesy when used as part of a name or as a substitute for a name; but not when merely explanatory or descriptive: President Wilson; the Archbishop of Canterbury; the Com- mander in Chief; Chevalier Ferrata; Baron Tennyson; Sir Walter Raleigh; Doctor Green; His Excellency; You will go, Major, to New York. But: Woodrow Wilson, president of the United States; the suc- cession of archbishops of Canterbury; the doctor; the king of Eng- land is a hereditary monarch. 70. Capitalize names of kinship when used in address or as substitutes for proper nouns: Come here, Sister; I knew Mother would approve. But: Have you seen my sister or my mother? 71. Capitalize the first word and all the principal words in titles ' of books and literary articles, documents and manuscripts, plays, and pictures: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; How the Other Half Lives; Senate Document No. 2; the Codex Aureus. 72. Capitalize the article (a, an, or the) at the beginning of a name or title only when it forms an integral part of the name or title: 428 APPENDIX III The Hague; The Bronx; Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream; Kipling's An Habitation Enforced; Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables. 72a. But it is not customary to capitalize the article be- ginning the name of a newspaper or magazine: the Chicago Tribune; the Springfield Republican; the San Fran- cisco Call; the Outlook; the Literary Digest. 73. Capitalize the trade names of articles of commerce, but not the noun which names the class to which each be- longs: Quaker Oats; Shredded Wheat; Puffed Rice; but the Oliver typewriter; Pears' soap; the Star pencil. 74. Capitalize adjectives derived from proper nouns if the original relation to the noun is still maintained: Italian painting; Indian pottery; but india rubber; india ink; lyonnaise potatoes; navy beans; pasteurized milk; a bohemian cafe"; timothy hay. 75. Prepositions and articles in foreign proper names are not to be capitalized when preceded by a Christian name or a title: the Count de la Rochefoucauld; the Duke d'Abruzzi. But the first of them is capitalized if they stand without a Christian name or title: La Rochefoucauld; De la Torre. 76. Capitalize the single letter words I and O: Then I said: "I cannot tell, O King, if this be true." Italics 77. Usage is less definitely settled in regard to italics than in regard to punctuation, capitalization, or spelling. Daily newspapers and most popular that is, non-techni- cal periodicals use italics not at all or rarely. Each publication has its own " style," or rules of usage, which can easily be learned by anyone who needs to know it. CAPITALS AND ITALICS 429 Most technical periodicals also have special rules based upon the supposed requirements of the subjects treated. The following are some general rules followed by high class publishers : 78. Italicize titles of separate publications of any form of writing, when used in the body of the text, or in foot- notes. This includes books, pamphlets of all kinds, periodi- cals and newspapers. Names of musical compositions and works of art follow the same rule: Carpenter, The Art of Creation; All's Well that Ends Well; The Faerie Queene; Proceedings of the Modern Language Association; Report of the United States Commissioner of Education; Chopin's Berceuse; Rembrandt's Last Supper; Whistler's Peacock Room. 79. Italicize the or a when it forms part of a title; but do not italicize the name of the city or the word the in the title of a periodical or newspaper: the Atlantic Monthly; the Philadelphia Ledger. 80. Do not italicize the names of books of the Bible (including the apocryphal books), or the titles or symbols of manuscripts: Isaiah; Revelation; MS Harley 2252; Royal E 19. 81. Do not italicize titles in bibliographical lists. 82. Some writers italicize the titles of short poems which form part of a collection, of essays, of short stories, or of other short pieces of writing; others enclose them between quo- tation marks (See 228) : Christina Rossetti's Golden Market; Kipling's The Man Who Was; Lady Gregory's Spreading the News. 83. Do not italicize or quote the author's name when used with the title of a work: Wordsworth's "Daffodils"; Scott's Ivanhoe. 84. Italicize names of ships, docks, and airships: Oceanic; East India dock; Canada. 430 APPENDIX IV 85. Italicize foreign words and phrases not yet adopted into English: the doctrine of laissez-faire; the mens sana idea. 86. Italicize the following words, phrases, and abbrevia- tions used in references: ad loc.; circa (ca.); et al.; ibid.; idem,' infra; loc. cit.; op, cit.; passim; sic; supra; s. v.; vide; also see; see also (in references); and for and read (in lists of errata). But not. cf.; etc.; e. g.; i. e.; v. or vs. (versus); viz. 87. Italicize letters, words, phrases, clauses, or sentences referred to merely as letters, words, phrases, clauses, or sentences : The letter a is called alpha; the word enthuse is never to be ad- mitted into good writing; the phrase near by is often wrongly used as an adjective; in the sentence, This is the house that Jack built, that Jack built is a clause modifying house. 88. Italicize, in resolutions, the word Resolved but not Whereas. 89. Italicize any word or group of words for strong emphasis. This use has become an abuse among cheap and sensa- tional writers. The fewer the italicized words and phrases, the more effective they are when they appear. 90. Do not italicize to call attention to a humorous or ironical expression. 91. In preparing manuscript for the printer, words to be italicized should be underscored with a single straight line ( ). Two lines (=) call for small capitals; three (=) for capitals; and a single wavy line (~~) for black faced type. SPELLING 431 IV SPELLING 92. The student who needs special drill in spelling should assimilate the following pages as rapidly as possible. A type of class exercise superior to the ordinary use of spelling lists is the following: Let each member of the class suggest orally as many examples as possible of the rule or peculiarity under dis- cussion. As soon as each suggestion is made, let all the class write it. Then let the lists be exchanged for criticism. As a result of this joint effort the list will be compiled from the vocabulary actually used by all the students, and will be so emphasized in the process of getting it to- gether that the words will be better remembered than if they merely form part of a list to be memorized. If de- sirable, this impromptu work can be supplemented by later work with the dictionary in order to extend the list. It is desirable that each student should copy into his note- book all words that give him special trouble (cf. p. 41, above). General Rules The following rules will provide for the correct spelling of many classes of words: 93. In derivatives from words ending in silent e, before a suffix beginning with a consonant, the e is retained: love lovely; excite excitement; tame tameness. Exceptions: duly; truly; wholly; nursling; judgment. 94. In derivatives from words ending in silent e, before a suffix beginning with a vowel the e is dropped: change changing; blue bluish; bride bridal; guide guidance; move movable; plume plumage. 95. Note that the consonant before the e is not doubled. Distinguish betwen hoping from hope and hopping from hop. 432 APPENDIX IV 96. Words ending in ie, after dropping the e, change i to y before i in a suffix: die dying. 97. Explain the following exceptions to 96: dye dyeing; singe singeing; eye eyeing; hie hieing; hoe hoeing; shoe shoeing. 98. Words in which the final e follows a c or a g keep the e before suffixes in a and o in order to preserve the soft sound of c and g: \ change changeable; peace peaceable; courage courageous. 99. In derivatives from words ending in n the n is kept: drunken drunkenness. 100. In derivatives from words ending in y preceded by a vowel the y is kept: chimney chimneys; alloy alloyed. Exceptions: daily; gaiety. 101. In derivatives from words ending in y preceded by a consonant, before a suffix beginning with any letter but i or o the y is changed to i: mercy merciful merciless ; busy busily business. Note: cry cries cried crying; and carry carries carried carrying. 102. In derivatives from words ending in a single con- sonant preceded by a short vowel, if the accent is on the last syllable, the consonant is doubled before a suffix be- ginning with a vowel: step stepping; glad gladden; fat fatter fattest; man man- nish; scrap scrappy; occur occurrence; prefer preferring. But note: preference; reference (with shift of accent). 103. In derivatives from words ending in a single con- sonant preceded by a short vowel, if the accent is not on the last syllable the consonant is not doubled : travel traveler traveling; differ differing difference; develop developing; kidnap kidnaper. SPELLING 433 But note: humbug, humbugging, humbugged; handicap, handi- capping, handicapped. 104. In abstract nouns ending in ion derived from verbs ending in de, ge, re, nd, se, ise, ert, or mit, the spelling is usually sion: allusion; submersion; adhesion; comprehension; expansion; pos- session; revision; conversion; remission. But note: attention; contention; intention (cf. intension). 105. In abstract nouns derived from verbs ending in ct, ne, nt, te, the spelling is usually tion: abstraction; convention; invention; fascination. 106. Note that al is commonly an adjective ending; le, a noun ending: critical; article. 107. The adjective principal means chief. In two senses it is used as a noun: principal ( = chief sum of money) . principal ( = chief man). In its other senses we use the regular noun ending le: principle. 108. Adverbs derived from adjectives ending in I double the I: cool coolly; equal equally. 109. Derivatives from words ending in c, formed by a termination beginning with e, i, or y insert k when it is de- sired to keep the hard sound of c: traffic trafficked trafficking ; panic panicky. 110. Words containing ei, or ie, pronounced like ec are spelled with ei after c: otherwise with ie: receive; believe. But note: seize and weird; and contrast seize and siege. 111. Of words ending in ense and ence, there are only 434 APPENDIX IV thirteen in ense; and of these all but two (nonsense and incense [noun]) are accented on the last syllable. All other nouns of this group end in ence. 112. Nouns ending in ence have usually an accompany- ing adjective in ent; and nouns in ance, an adjective in ant. Learn to distinguish between these vowels in pronuncia- tion, and you will have no difficulty in spelling them. Exercises in Spelling 113. It is assumed that you have carried out the sug- gestions made at the beginning of IV. We come now to groups of words for which no rules can be phrased on the basis of English alone. Such words are best learned by the methods of association and contrast; i. e., by collecting and setting over against each other in distinct groups words which because of resemblance in their formation tend to be confused. Of such words, those that give special trouble to each student should be placed in his spelling notebook until they have been mastered. Collect the words by working together in class. A rhyming dictionary will help out when the lists are short. -able and -ible -ance and -ence -ar, -er, and -or -ary and -ery -dge and -gc -eous, -ious, -uous -cal, -cle -ice, -ise -ise, -ize, and -yze -ede and -eed -ei- and -ie- 114. Give the nouns derived from despair, exclaim, main- tain and repeat. Add other examples of difference in the spelling of the stem between a verb and an abstract noun derived from it. 115. Collect lists of words in which the following con- sonants are doubled: b, c, d, f, g, h, 1, m, n, p, r, s, t. Try to get at least ten examples of each; more, if possible. SPELLING 435 116. Work with the following list of troublesome words until you can spell every word in it without hesitation: abscess bouquet curiosity fictitious absorption buoyant foliage accommodate bureau deep forebode acoustics burglar depth forehead acquaintance business descend foreign acquiescence description foremost acquisition Caesar desperate forest adequately calcimine develop forfeit adjacent calendar diamond fraternity address adviser campaign captain dilapidated diminish fulfill fundamental afraid carriage diphtheria aghast casualty diphthong gas -es alumnus -i cede discipline geometry alumna -se century dormitory ghastly amateur ceremony doubt ghost analysis certain dyspepsia goal anaesthetic character goddess antithesis chemistry earnest government apartment chieftain ecstasy grammar apiece chimneys effervesce grandeur Apollo chorus eighth grocery Apollinaris Christian elaborate guarantee apology Cincinnati elicit guard -ian appall coalesce eligible gymnasium arctic commission eliminate arithmetic comparative embarrass handsome ascetic comrade entrance happiness assassin conciliate equivalent harass athletics connoisseur excite haughty autobiography conscience exclaim height automobile conscientious excuse heinous autumnal conscious exercise hero -es available consciousness exhaust hockey corduroy exhibit hospital bachelor correspondence exhort hypocrisy balance counterfeit explicit hypocrite banana courtesy Baptist crescent familiar Iliad beauteous crisis -es fascinate imagination behavior criticism fatigue imitation bicycle crystal February indictment boundary curious fertile infinitive 436 APPENDIX IV, irreparable mustache picturesque statistics irresistibly mystery possess stretch island mystify potato -es success itself myth prairie suppress Presbyterian surprise jockey naphtha promontory syllable nasturtium psychology synonymous kerosene necessary pumpkin system kindergarten nickel pursue knuckle tautology occurrence recognize technical leisure Odyssey regular temperament lieutenant oneself reparation temperature luxury oppress reservoir tendency owing restaurant Thackeray Macaulay rhetoric thermometer maintenance paralysis tomato -es maneuver parenthesis -es salary tragedy manufacture -r particular sandwich Tuesday manifold partner satisfactory twelfth marriage pamphlet Saturday tyrant mathematics parallel scandal measles peculiar schedule unmistakable mediaeval people scissors usage medieval medicine perform perspire scythe separate vegetable mercantile mimic persuade phenomenon -a sergeant Shelley vengeance villain visitor miniature phrase shepherd miscellaneous physical silhouette volunteer Mississippi mortgage physician physics similar simultaneous Wednesday mosquito -es physiology speech (speak) yacht 117. Look up in the dictionary differences in pronuncia- tion where these exist, and differences of meaning in each of the following groups of words: accelerator, exhilarator accept, except access, excess affect, effect aisle, isle, I'll alley, ally all ready, already; all together, altogether; all ways, always allusion, illusion, and elusion (also the verbs) aloud, allowed altar, alter amend, emend angel, angle apposition, opposition ascent, assent SPELLING 437 auger, augur aught, ought Austen, Jane Austin, Alfred bad, bade bale, bail ball, bawl bare, bear berry, bury berth, birth boar, bore bolder, boulder boarder, border born, borne, bourne boy, buoy brake, break breath, breathe bridal, bridle Britain, Briton, Britannic buy, by calvary, cavalry campaign, champagne, cham- paign canon, canon, cannon canvas, canvass capital, capitol cease, seize ceiling, sealing celery, salary cemetery, seminary censor, censure cereal, serial cession, session choir, quire choler, collar, color chord, cord chute, shoot cite, sight, site, clothes, cloths complement, compliment coarse, course colonel, kernel confidant, confident consul, counsel, council corporal, corporeal costume, custom currant, current dairy, diary deceased, diseased decent, descent dependant, dependent desert, dessert die, dye; dying, dyeing draft, draught dual, duel ear, e er, ere earnest, Ernest elicit, illicit Eliot, George Elliott, Ebenezer emigration, immigration fain, fane, feign faint, feint farther, further feat, feet, fete fir, fur flour, flower formally, formerly fort, forte forth, fourth forty, fourteen foul, fowl freeze, frieze gage, gauge gait, gate gild, guild gorilla, guerrilla grate, great grease, Greece guild, guilt hail, hale hall, hawl heal, heel hew, hue human, humane 438 APPENDIX IV idle, idol, idyl ingenious, ingenuous it's, it* Johnson, Samuel Jonson, Ben knead, need knight, night later, latter lead, led leased, least lessen, lesson lightening, lightning lineament, liniment loose, lose mantel, mantle meat, meet, mete medal, meddle metal, mettle might, mite miner, minor muscle, mussel 0,oh oar, o'er, ore participle, participial passed, past peace, piece, peas peal, peel pedal, peddle persecute, prosecute pillar, pillow plain, plane practical, practicable precede, proceed (but cf. proce- dure) principal, principle prophecy, prophesy propose, purpose quiet, quite rain, reign, rein rhyme, rhythm right, rite, wright, write road, rode, rowed scene, seen serge, surge sew, so, sow shear, sheer shone, shown side, sighed sleight, slight soar, sore sole, soul Spencer, Herbert Spenser, Edmund stake, steak stationary, stationery statue, stature, statute steal, steel Stephenson, George Stevenson, Robert Louis straight, strait suit, suite tail, tale team, teem than, then their, there, they're thorough, through, threw to, too, two track, tract vain, vane, vein waist, waste waive, wave weak, week weather, wether, whether who's, whose your, you're SPELLING 439 The Hyphen 118. When you are in doubt as to where a word should be divided, write the entire word on the next line. Too much space is preferable to breaking up a word in such a way that the reader may be even momentarily confused. 119. The hyphen may be used at the end of a line: (1) Between parts of a compound word: court-yard (2) Between a prefix or a suffix and the word to which it is joined: fo-tween; anfe-cedent; judg-ment; \ov-able. (3) When a consonant is doubled, between the two letters if they are pronounced in different syllables: run-ning; com-mittee or commit-tee. (4) Between any two consonants if they are pronounced in different syllables: ful-fill; prac-tise; car-cass; ar-mor. If both are pronounced in one syllable, place the hyphen so that they will be kept in it: He-brew; bring-ing; push-es; cath-olic; tele-phone; sign-ing. ,(5) In a group of more than two consonants, so that those pronounced together will remain together: dis-charge; rab-ble; al-though. (6) Before or after a single consonant standing between vowels so that it will remain with the vowel with which it is in closest connection: fu-tile haz-ard na-tion shad-ow se-vere for-eign 120. The hyphen may not be used: (1) Between doubled consonants pronounced in the same syllable: 440 APPENDIX IV equipped; expressed. (2) To divide a monosyllable, even with a diphthong or a doubled consonant: though; taught; stopped. (3) To separate a syllable of one letter from the rest of the word: alone; about; many. (4) To separate the letters of a diphthong or a digraph: Croesus; elephant. 121. The hyphen is also used to mark the relationship of words in the process of growing together; they are written first separately, then with the hyphen, and finally as one word. It is difficult to give any rules that may not be soon made invalid by current practice. Until recently, for example, today and tomorrow were hyphenated. The present tendency is to avoid the hyphen as much as possible. The following principles may help you; but in cases of doubt consult a recent dictionary: 122. Use the hyphen between a prefix and the word to which it is joined whenever the force of the prefix is still strongly felt as distinct from the meaning of the word itself: non-existent; pre-Raphaelite; quasi-literary; vice-consul; ex- president. 123. Use the hyphen between two nouns when each emphasizes a distinct idea: martyr-president; my doctor-brother. 124. Write as a single word without hyphen all com- binations in which a prefix has blended with another word to express a single idea: antechamber; antiseptic; coordinate; cooperate; reelect; biennial; coequal; demigod; international; postgraduate; recast; semiannual; subconscious; superfine; tricolor; unmanly; inanimate; asymmetri- cal; overweight; underfed. SPELLING 441 125. Write two nouns as one whenever they are so blended that they convey a single idea: schoolroom; workshop; lawgiver; taxpayer; bookkeeper; stock- holder; workingman. 126. To emphasize the prefix and to distinguish the compound from another combination in which the two elements have been blended, a hyphen is sometimes needed: recreation, re-creation; reformation, re-formation; recover, re- cover. 127. Use a hyphen with numerals prefixed to nouns and adjectives to form a measure: six-barred gate; two-mile walk; half-truth; quarter-plate. 128. Use a hyphen in spelling out fractions unless either numerator or denominator already requires one: two-fifths But: thirty-seven hundredths. The Apostrophe 129. Use the apostrophe (1) With or without * as a mark of the genitive case: With ?, as a rule, in the singular: ass's, Mr. Stubbs's, Dickens's. But without the * in long words ending in s: Herodias' beauty; Demosthenes' oration; for conscience' sake. Use the apostrophe alone in plurals ending in s; otherwise, the apostrophe and *: boys' clothing; men's hats. (2) In all contractions of words and omissions of figures from dates: don't; doesn't; shan't; won't; 'tis; it's; Boys of '76. (3) With s to form special plural forms: Letters: p's and q's Figures: 8's and 6's Word groups and words not usually pluralized: these don't's; these I can't's! 442 APPENDIX V Spelling Out and Abbreviation 130. Abbreviation should be as far as possible avoided in letters and in the body of manuscript. 131. In statistical matter, however, and tables of all kinds, abbreviations are desirable in order to save space. 132. In footnotes the abbreviation of titles, publishers' names, and all words used in giving references, is permissi- ble for the same reason. Note the following abbreviations which commonly appear in footnotes: vol. I (plural: vols.); no. 1 (nos.); Ps. 20 (Pss.); div. HI; chap, ii (chaps.); art. iii (arts.); sec. 4 (sees.); p. 5 (pp.); col. 6 (cols.); vs. 7 (vss.); 1. 8 (11.); n. 9 (nn.); fig. 7 (figs.); pp. 5-7 (= pages 5 to 7 inclusive); pp. of. (=page 5 and the following page); pp. 5ff. (= page 5 and the following pages). 133. Numbers that can be expressed in one or two words should be spelled out in manuscript. For numbers re- quiring more words figures may be given. Whichever method is used, however, it should be maintained con- sistently throughout a passage. Figures should never begin a sentence; either spell out or construct the sentence so that the number does not stand first. 134. Figures should be used whenever a. m. and p. m. are permissible. 135. Avoid etc. as far as possible in the body of manu- script. Use and so on if the idea must be expressed. V ON SPEAKING ENGLISH 136. Listen carefully to the speech of others. Train your ear to distinguish between correctly and incorrectly spoken English, between English that is made beautiful and English that is murdered. Then aim at an ideal the ideal of doing justice to sounds and of making the most of such powers of speech as you have been endowed with. Remember that English may be spoiled in at least four ways: by a bad voice; by unpleasant intonation; by defective enunciation; and by faulty pronunciation. ON SPEAKING ENGLISH 443 137. If every American took lessons from an expert in voice culture, our country would be a much pleasanter place to live in. But certain things any one can do for him- self merely by practising along the lines of suggestions. The earnest will to improve can bring about a great change in any unpleasant voice. 138. Avoid nasality. It is largely a habit. Practise talking more with your lips and you will talk less through your nose. 139. Avoid shrillness. If your voice is high, use the lower tones. 140. Avoid throatiness. Bring your voice forward and make your lips and tongue do their share of the work. 141. Avoid drawling. Yo.u will get a clearer enuncia- tion if you speed up. 142. Avoid jerkiness. Steady your sentences. Donotfling the words out in a mob; utter them with dignity and poise. 143. Do not mumble. Distinctness is one of the cardinal virtues of speech. 144. Avoid monotonous or sing-song speech. This can be done simply by striving for variety. 145. In enunciation the chief faults lie hi the pronuncia- tion of the vowels, and of the consonants r and s; and in the failure to utter at all certain consonants which are closely combined with others as, c in arctic, and final g in going, doing, etc. 146. Purity and variety of vowel sounds are among the chief marks of the cultivated speaker. He understands all the differences in the Key to Pronunciation given in the front of the dictionary, and he is never guilty of the following errors of pronunciation: Accented vowels a in fast and can't pronounced flat and thin o in mother like aw in law ir in girl like oy in boy ew in news like oo in boot e in very like u in furry ea in instead like i in still Unaccented vowels a like i or u, or disappearing altogether: melwn-choly; cabbzge; critic'l 444 APPENDIX V e like i, u, or lost: colh'ge; studwnt; diff'r'nt i, y like u: gen-u-wn; analu-sis o, like u or lost: no-bwdy; hist'ry u like e: ackerit. 147. The consonant s in some parts of the country- drags in an r: horspital. 148. The consonant r is perhaps the most abused of all sounds in English. It is often either lost altogether, or dropped where it belongs and added where it does not: What's mo-ah, I'll have the lawr on him. Or it is pronounced with a heavy, distressing burr. Aim at a clearly enunciated r which, however, does not attract attention to itself. 149. One of the worst faults of speech is the running together of many sounds and the total omission of others, which results in such messy enunciation as: "I gottalotadope from'mth'otherday"; "Whaddayamean?" "A fella's gotta rightersay watethinks; an I'magoin'ter"; "Ye-ah, I'm agoin'ter leave collidge prob'ly in Febuwary." 150. The dictionary indicates not merely the qualities of the sounds which compose each word, but also the position of the accent. We have space for only a few of the most flagrant errors. Attention is called to them here because they seem almost ineradicable: abdo'men, not ab'domen ex'quisite, not exquis'ite absent' (verb), not ab'sent finance', not fi'nance accli'mate, not ac'climate form'idable, not formid'able address', not ad'dress grimace', not grim'ace adult', not ad'ult har'ass, not harass' a'eroplane, not a'reoplane hos'pitable, not hospit'able ag'grandize, not aggran'dize ide'a, not i'dea ally', not al'ly in'fluence, not influ'ence col'umn, not col'yum inqui'ry, not in'quiry com'parable, not compar'able lam'entable, not lament'able com'plex, not complex' me'diocre, not medio'cre condo'lence, not con'dolence po'em, po'et, not pome, po'ut da'ta, not dat'ta nor da'ta re'al, not reel des'picable, not despic'able resour'ces, not re' sources PUNCTUATION 445 151. Beyond all these details, there is what may be called manner in speaking, by which culture or the lack of it is immediately apparent. This is a complex of tone, enunciation, pronunciation, and the mental attitude of the speaker as indicated by his management of speech. A quiet, confident, poised manner accomplishes far more than either bluster or excessive politeness. To acquire this right way of speaking there is no better means than reading aloud under competent and close criticism well-written dialogue, especially in modern plays, as showing the best idiom in current usage. Among au- thors to be recommended for this use are : John Galsworthy, St. John Hankin, Bernard Shaw, Granville Barker. 152. Unless part of the class period is sometimes given to such reading, the student who especially needs guidance in speaking should practice frequently with a tutor or friend. VI PUNCTUATION 153. In the following brief outline the uses of the marks of punctuation are summed up as nearly as possible ac- cording to current practice. It must be realized, however, that in punctuation there is frequently room for difference of opinion. This is especially true of the use of the comma, semicolon, and colon. Further, an experienced writer knows how to give his punctuation marks meanings which at times differ considerably from their usual force. There- fore it is important both to become thoroughly familiar with standard usage, and to be always alert to observe variations from this and to determine whether these are due to the desire to produce a particular effect or to igno- rance of the proper marking. This outline may be used in two ways: (1) for reference on single points, especially for the purpose of correcting errors in a paper; and (2) for drill. For this drill no specially 446 APPENDIX VI constructed exercises have been provided. It is believed that more valuable practice will be gained if the student collects his own examples from this book, or any other which is reasonably normal in its punctuation notes exceptions and apparent exceptions, and draws his own conclusions. For further drill on points of special diffi- culty he cannot do better than copy entirely without punctua- tion marks a good piece of prose, punctuate it, and compare his result with the original. Such practice should be re- peated daily for some weeks by the student who wishes to learn what punctuation can do for style. Period 154. After a declarative sentence, whether complete or elliptical (cf. p. 55). 155. Except in a parenthesis embodied in another sen- tence: He speaks French (I have his word for it) like a native. 156. After abbreviations (including initials). 157. Except MS, MSS, and Roman numerals in the body of the text. Question Mark: 158. After an interrogative sentence, whether complete or elliptical. 159. Except a rhetorical question requiring no answer and strongly exclamatory. 160. After each interrogative element of a sentence con- sisting of a series of related questions requiring separate emphasis: What had become of his duty? his honor? his plighted word? 161. But not after an indirect question, unless the entire sentence is interrogative: He asked what I meant. But: Did he ask what I meant? PUNCTUATION 447 162. Within parentheses to show doubt as to a word or idea: There are 400,000 (?) words in English. This Korszak (?) is a Czech. Exclamation Mark 163. After any sentence, part of sentence, or word, which is used as strongly exclamatory. 164. When an interjection is used to intensify the emo- tion, the exclamation mark may stand after it, without interfering with the punctuation of the sentence as a whole; or it may stand at the end of the sentence, with a comma after the interjection (cf. p. 68). But the emotion will be concentrated by the reader where the exclamation mark stands. 165. In parentheses within the sentence, to express criticism of a word or phrase: Everybody likes their (!) own way. Colon 166. Before a long quotation, or even a short quotation when this is to stand out sharply from its introductory words. 167. Before a quotation not introduced by a verb of saying: She looked reproachful: "Albert!" He shrugged his shoulders: "Well?" 168. Before a formal list, whether each item begins a new line or not. 169. To separate an expression that is grammatically com- plete from one or more others which amplify or illustrate it: Most countries have a national flower: France the lily; England the rose; Scotland the thistle. 170. Before namely, thai is, as, viz., e. g., or any similar ex- pression used to introduce formally an example or an illustra- tion: 448 APPENDIX VI Abbreviate "Saint" in place-names: e. g., St. Louis, St. Paul's Church. 171. After the greeting of a business letter (cf. 36). 172. Between chapter and verse in quoting Scripture: 1 Kings, 3:7. 173. Between place of publication and publisher's name in bibliographical references. 174. Between hours and minutes in time abbreviations: 12:20 p. m. Semicolon 176. Between clauses of a compound sentence if they are to be sharply distinguished or contrasted. 176. Between clauses of a compound sentence when they contain one or more commas. 177. In lists of references to set off one title from another: P. Schaff, History of the Christian Church, HI, 534; J. L. Klein, Gesckichte des Dramas, TV, lOff.; C. Davidson, Studies in the English Mystery Plays, pp. 6ff. 178. In any series of details, to separate groups of asso- ciated words which require within themselves the use of commas: I cannot readily forget his glaring eyes; his livid, pockmarked face; his dragging, shambling gait. Comma 179. After, before, or before and after, a vocative. 180. After, or before and after, yes, no, or any other ad- verb used to modify the sentence as a whole: Certainly, I shall be glad to help you. But: I shall certainly be glad to help you (where certainly modifies shall be glad). 181. After an interjection or an exclamatory phrase when the exclamation mark is placed at the end of the sentence: For mercy's sake, be careful! PUNCTUATION 449 182. After a transition word or phrase connecting a sentence with the one before it, when emphasis is desired for the connection, or when the transitional element itself is somewhat elaborate: Moreover, I am too easily influenced. In addition to all these obstacles, the people were hostile. 183. Before and after a transition word that does not begin the sentence, in order that it may be distinguished from an adverb modifying an element within the sentence itself: The King, then, protested vigorously (recalls something said before). The King then protested vigorously (then modifies protested). 184. After an independent phrase (absolute phrase) which modifies the sentence as a whole: The bridge being finished, most of the workmen were dismissed. 185. Before and after an appositive: Mr. Smith, the lawyer, and John Muir, LLD. 185a. Except when the appositive combines with a name to form a title or similar closely connected word group: William the Conqueror: my brother Bill: the blacksmith Hodge. 186. Before and after a phrase indicating place of resi- dence or position! Mr. Connors, of the Foreign Office, and Senator Harrison, of Vermont, are intimate friends. 186a. Except when the phrase is so closely connected with the name as to be an essential part of it: Saul of Tarsus; Randolph of Roanoke. 187. To separate words, or groups of words, used in series, that is, as parallel in construction: Never to fail in kindliness, in patience, in love, with the feeble of mind or of will taxes one's courtesy, morality, and self-control. 187a. Except when very close connection is indicated by the use of conjunctions without punctuation marks (cf. pp. 73f. above). 188. Note that when and is used to connect only the 450 APPENDIX VI last two members of a series, the comma should also be used (cf. p. 73 above). 189. Between words repeated to secure emphasis: Money, money, money is all you think of. 190. To separate adjectives modifying the same sub- stantive when each contributes separately to the modifica- tion (cf. p. 69 above). 191. Before, after, or before and after a non-essential (non-restrictive) relative clause (cf. pp. 87, 88, above). 192. After a long modifier that immediately precedes and tends to obscure the subject (cf. p. 67 above). 193. Before and after a long modifier that intervenes between subject and predicate, and tends to obscure their relationship (cf. p. 67 above). 194. Before and after an antithetical phrase or clause introduced by not: They surrendered, not because they were beaten, but because they knew they would be. 195. After words introducing a short quotation. 196. To separate the parts of a quotation from inter- vening explanatory matter: "I will come," said I, "and show you how to play golf." But note that a mark of interrogation or of exclamation is not replaced by a comma. 197. Between the parts of an interrogative sentence con- sisting of a statement and a question: You will come, won't you? 198. Between the name of a city or town and its state or country. 199. Between the name of a street and that of its city or town. 200. Between the name of a day and the date of the month; and between the day of the month and the year. 201. After the greeting of a personal letter. 202. After the close of a letter. PUNCTUATION 451 203. After a surname followed by initials or a baptismal name: Jones, H. J.; Reed, Henry. 204. After, or before and after, all such parenthetical sum- marizing expressions as for example, for instance, that is, e. g., i. e., viz., etc.; cf. 170, above. 205. To separate into groups of three figures, numbers expressing quantity and extending to more than three places : 5,768,293 205a. But dates and other designation numbers are not so divided: The year 1919; Columbia 8288; 1422 Main St. 206. To show the omission of words which must be sup- plied from the context; In Indiana there are seventeen; in Ohio, twenty- two. 206a. But where no ambiguity can arise the comma is usually omitted. 207. Between the details in literary references: Thackeray, W. M., Vanity Fair; Milton, Paradise Lost, II, 17.143. 208. After Resolved and Whereas in resolutions. 209. Between any two words or expressions that would wrongly be taken together if not separated by the comma: To Lucy, Dean was a mystery; What he says, is true. Common Abuses of the Comma 210. Between two independent statements: Not: Spring is here, I heard a bluebird. But: Spring is here; I heard a bluebird today. 211. Before or after that, whether, and similar expressions, used with a verb of saying or asking: Not : He said, that he would come early. Or: He said that, he would come early. But: He said that he would come early. 452 APPENDIX VI 212. Between a noun and the last of a series of adjectives modifying it: Not: A knotty, mossy, half-dead, oak. But: A knotty, mossy, half-dead oak. 213. Between a verb and the first member of a series after it: Not: There are, roses, poppies, and irises in bloom. But: There are roses, poppies, and irises in bloom. 214. Before a word or phrase to which attention is called for itself: Not: The word, fairing means, present. But: The word fairing means present. 215. After a signature followed by a title of office: Not: Joseph Burnham, But: Joseph Burnham Secretary Secretary Dash 216. After an incomplete sentence or clause: "I will say," he began, "that " 217. Note that the dash replaces the period; but that a question or exclamation mark must be used if needed : "What did you?" "How dare you !" 218. Within the sentence where the structure is broken and partly repeated or changed: He is easy-going far too easy-going to be successful. I believe I shall ask you no, you would refuse. 219. After a long subject and before a word or phrase summarizing it: Infantry, cavalry, artillery, aviators all were moved by a common impulse. 220. Before and after any word or phrase or clause, to PUNCTUATION 453 set it apart from the main trend of the sentence, yet not so entirely as if it were enclosed between parentheses: The horseman drew near it was Hay ward shouting: "Fire!" 221. Note that commas are not used before dashes: The feathered hat which had been the pride of her life lay in the mud. 222. Note that the en-dash (-) is used to show a suc- cession of pages or a period of time; but should not be used if from precedes: pp. 34-122; August-September, 1914. Not: From August-September, 1914. But: From August to September, 1914. Ellipses 223. To fill out lines of verse quoted in part, and be- tween lines of verse to show that others have been omitted : Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree. Sing, Heavenly Muse 224. In emotional dialogue in drama or fiction to show pauses or breaks in the thought: He put down his glass awkwardly. . . . "The fear, . . . the fear . . . look you ... it is always there." ... He touched his breast. . . . Quotation Marks 225. Before and after every quoted word or group of words within a paragraph. 226. When two or more successive paragraphs are quoted, before the first word of each, but at the end of the last paragraph only. 227. Any words or phrases to which particular attention is directed may be placed between quotation marks : Were you at Gertie's "shower"? "Drop-folio" means a page number at the foot of the page. 454 APPENDIX VI 228. Cited titles of short poems, addresses, articles, parts of books, and series of books, and mottoes, toasts, etc., are usually enclosed in quotation marks (but see 82) : Wordsworth's "Daffodils"; James's "The Powers of Men"; "English Men of Letters" series; " Altiora cano." 229. When a quoted sentence ends with a mark of inter- rogation, of exclamation, or of ellipsis, or with a dash, this mark is kept within the quotation marks and outside punctu- ation is omitted. In all other cases the punctuation of the enclosing sentence dominates; and this, if a period or a comma, is placed within the quotation marks; if any other mark, it is placed outside: "Did you really?" I asked. "How splendid!" I said; "now I never . . ." The poem begins, "Where shall the lover rest." Why should I care "to make the world safe for democracy"? 230. For quotation within quotation, single quotation marks are used; and for all further degrees of quotation within quotation, double and single marks alternately: "Then I said to him, 'I was, as the poet says, "born to blush un- seen," ' " said Jeff. Marks of Parenthesis 231. Before and after explanatory matter which is in- dependent in structure of the main thought and might be entirely omitted without altering the thought. 232. Before and after stage directions in a play: Lady Sims (abashed). I'm sorry, Harry. (A perfect butler appears and presents a card.) 233. Note that an independent sentence within paren- thesis is punctuated as if the parenthesis were not there; but embodied in another sentence (1) loses its final period, but (2) keeps a final question or exclamation mark: Kathleen (she is a tease really) gave him no peace. Kathleen (she is such a tease!) gave him no peace. Kathleen (have you ever seen her tease anyone?) gave him no peace. GRAMMAR REVIEW 455 234. Note that when a parenthesis ends at the end of the sentence, the end punctuation mark follows the mark of parenthesis. He was riding a sheltie (a Shetland pony). 235. Note that for parenthesis within parenthesis, brackets are used; and then alternately with parenthesis if necessary. Brackets 236. Before and after matter conjectured to have been part of a text: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, [Amidst] these rebel powers that thee array. . . . 237. Before and after notes inserted by an editor, and other similar matter, which is entirely foreign to the original text: This paper was signed in 1679. [This is an error for 1671; he died in 1675 Ed.] VII GRAMMAR REVIEW Questions 238. What is the function of each part of speech in the sentence? Illustrate. 239. Which parts of speech have similar functions? Explain the differences. 240. What name is given to both the noun and the pronoun? May it be given also to word-groups in the sentence? What kinds of word-groups? What is the fundamental difference between noun and pronoun? What is the fundamental idea of substantive (cf. dictionary)? 241. What is the fundamental idea of predication (cf . dictionary) ? Which part of speech performs this function? 242. What is a sentence (cf. dictionary)? What are its essential elements? Under what circumstances may each be omitted? What is a sentence with such omissions called? 456 APPENDIX VII 243. What non-essential elements may be found in a sentence? What is the function of each? 244. What types of sentence are there with reference to the form in which the thought is expressed? Illustrate each. 246. How are sentences classified according to their structure? Illustrate each type. 246. What is a clause? a phrase? What is the fundamental difference between them? Illustrate. 247. What are the two main types of clause? How is each used? Illustrate. 248. In what three ways are subordinate clauses used? Illus- trate each. 249. In what two ways are adjective clauses used? Illustrate each. What is the punctuation proper to each? 250. In what ways are adverbial clauses used? Illustrate clauses of time, place, manner, degree, cause, purpose, result, condition, and concession. 261. How are phrases constructed? Illustrate. 262. In what ways are prepositional phrases used? Illustrate the substantive, adjective, and adverbial uses of prepositional phrases. 253. In what ways are participial phrases used? Illustrate the adjective use; the nominative absolute. 254. What is the difference between the participle and the gerund? How are gerund phrases used? Illustrate. 256. In what ways is the substantive used in the sentence? Illustrate each. 266. What is a vocative? Illustrate. How is it punctuated? 257. What is an appositive? Illustrate. How is it punctuated? 258. What is the difference between a transitive and an in- transitive verb? Can the same verb be sometimes transitive and sometimes intransitive? Give as many examples as you can of this. 269. What is the direct object of a verb? the indirect object? Illustrate. 260. Can any verb take more than one direct object? Illustrate. 261. Can any part of speech except a verb take a direct object? Illustrate. 262. In what case is a direct object? Is the objective case ever used for a subject? Illustrate, using a personal or relative pronoun. 263. What is the adverbial use of the noun? Illustrate. 264. How many uses of substantives have you found? Make a brief summary or table of them. 265. How many classes of pronouns are there? How is each used? Illustrate. 266. Which pronouns are used for connective purposes? Illus- trate. 267. What is the difference between a pronoun and a pronomi- GRAMMAR REVIEW 457 nal adjective? What words may be sometimes one and sometimes the other? What part of speech is all? any? no? nobody? no one? many? each? every? some? 268. By what means do nouns and pronouns change their form to show syntax? Illustrate. 269. What is the inflection of I? who? anybody? whichever? 270. By what means do adjectives and adverbs change their form, and for what purpose? Illustrate irregular comparisons. 271. By what means do verbs change their forms, and for what purpose? Illustrate. 272. What voices may a verb have? tenses? moods? What other changes are involved? Illustrate. 273. Inflect the following verbs throughout: please; go; have; be; seem; drink; run; begin; dive; prove. 274. What different names can you apply to each of the verbs named in 273? Which express action? which state or being? which are transitive? which intransitive? which is the copula? which a copulative verb? which may be auxiliary? 275. What is the difference between the infinitive and the finite verb? In what moods may the finite verb be found? 276. What is the sign of the infinitive? Is the infinitive used commonly without its sign? Illustrate. What are the infinitive and its sign taken together called? How is the infinitive phrase used? Illustrate its substantive, adjective, and adverbial uses. 277. How is the participle used? Illustrate. 278. In what different ways is the subjunctive used? Illustrate the subjunctive of desire. Give a sentence containing a subjunctive clause of condition, and one containing a clause of concession. 279. What is meant by sequence of tenses? Give the rule and illustrate. 280. What are auxiliary verbs? Name as many as you know. 281. What different kinds of conjunctions do you know? How is each used? Illustrate. 282. Which parts of speech may upon occasion be used as nouns? Does the same word often serve as several different parts of speech? Classify cross, round, down. 283. Troublesome Verbs : begin began begun blow blew blown break broke broken burst burst burst come came come dive dived dived drink drank drunk drown drowned drowned 458 APPENDIX VII eat flow fly forget freeze get grow hang lay lead lie prove ring rise run see set show sit speak strike ate forgot froze got grew I hung laid led lay rang rose ran saw set showed sang sank sat spoke struck swam flown forgotten frozen got grown {Hung \ hanged (executed) laid led lain rung risen run seen set shown sung sunk sat spoken struck 284. Summary of the Rules for Shall and Will. Statement Question Futurity: I, we shall, should. You, he, she, it they will, Resolve or promise of the speaker: I, we will, Threat or command would. of the speaker: You, he, she, it, they shall, should. Answer in- volving fu- turity: Answer in- volving re- solve, threat, or command: Shall, should I, we? Shall, should you? Will, would he, she, it, they? Answer: I, we shall, He, she, it, they will. should. Will you? Shall, should he, she, it, they? Answer: I, we will, would. He, she, it, they shall, should. SENTENCE FAULTS 459 286. Will I, we? would I, we? are used only when mil or would is quoted from another question: "Will you stand by me?" "Will I? I will." 286. Should also implies general obligation. You should wear rubbers. 287. Would also expresses habitual action: He would touch every fence post as he passed it. She would sit by the window all day. 288. In indirect quotation, after a verb of saying in the past tense, use should and would according to the rules for shall and will. VIII SENTENCE FAULTS Predication 289. See that every sentence has at least one independent, finite verb, expressed or unmistakably implied in the con- text. Criticize and correct the following: She was asked to sing. Which she refused to do. There are two roads to Westerham. One by Brasted and one over the Common. To resume our discussion. I believe in government control. The game having been won by this brilliant play. There was great excitement among the fans. 290. It is bad form in business letters to omit the verb, even when it is exactly implied, as in " Yours at hand "... (cf. p. 55). 291. Do not omit the verb in clauses where it would have to be supplied in a different form or with a different mean- ing. Criticize and correct the following: Letty went yesterday; I tomorrow. She is sixteen; I nineteen. I think so and always have. 460 APPENDIX VIII Tense Agreement 292. Keep the rule for sequence of tenses. Do not mix past and present except for particular effects in dialogue. 293. Avoid the historical present that is, the present used to describe past events. Only skilled writers can use it successfully. Voice 294. Do not without good reason change from active to passive in the same sentence. Improve the following: They assembled at Marty's, and an impromptu banquet was arranged there in his honor. Agreement of Subject and Predicate 295. If the verb used with a collective noun expresses collective action, make it singular; if individual action, plural. 296. But do not in the same passage use both singular and plural verbs to agree with a collective noun. Introduce other nouns if necessary. Correct the following: The Confidential Department are today keeping her under ob- servation. A woman of this kind is especially dangerous, owing to her ability to pass in any class of society, and it is to be hoped that the Department has been able to curtail her opportunities for mischief. The class has finished its work and have now gone to their homes. 297. After a collective noun in the singular followed by an qf-phrase containing a plural or collective noun, use a singular verb when the group is regarded collectively, a plural verb when the individuals composing it are the real subject of thought. Justify the following, and give as many similar examples as you can: A majority of the club members smoke. The majority of the voters favors the change. 298. With a noun plural in form but singular in mean- ing, use the verb in the singular. Decide whether or not the following are correct: SENTENCE FAULTS 461 Mathematics is a science. Five dollars is cheap for that book. Three times nine is twenty-seven. Fourteen and five makes nineteen. Bread and milk tastes good. Add other examples. 299. Use a plural verb with a plural noun introduced by the expletive there. Justify the following: There are more where these came from. "There's many a slip . . ." Give other examples. 300. When the members of a compound subject refer to the same person or thing, use the verb in the singular. This scholar and gentleman is a high-minded man. 301. When to a subject substantive in the singular number another is joined by means of with, together with, as well as, etc., use the verb in the singular. Correct the following : The fact that building materials have increased 40 per cent to- gether with a steady increase in the demand for labor also are re- garded as reasons for the slump in home building. 302. When a plural noun stands between a singular subject and its predicate, be careful to keep the verb still singular: The price of these peaches is fifty cents. Each of these books costs a dollar. 303. In an essential relative clause attached to such a phrase as " one of the best," the antecedent of the relative pronoun is plural. Make the verb plural, or in many cases, preferably condense the clause to a participial phrase: This is one of the best books that have ever been printed. Or: This is one of the best books ever printed. Cite and discuss as many similar examples as possible. 462 APPENDIX VIII 304. Avoid bringing together a subject and a predicate noun which are not of the same number. When, however, you cannot avoid this situation, be sure that your verb agrees with the subject, not with the predicate noun. Criticize and correct the following: The best of all the crops (cf. 301) in the district are potatoes. Liberty Bonds is a good investment. 305. If a compound subject consists of singular sub- stantives connected by or, nor, either ... or, neither . . . nor, the verb should be in the singular. Give ten examples of correct agreement of this kind. 306. With pronouns the verb must agree in person as well as in number with the subject to which it is nearest: Either you or 7 am to blame. Either you or she is to blame. But it is better to reconstruct the sentence. Either you are to blame, or 7 am. Either you are to blame, or she is. Pronouns, Number 307. Use singular pronouns to refer to collective nouns when the emphasis is on the group, plural pronouns when it is on the individuals that make up the group (cf. 297 above); but keep throughout a passage the number used at first: Write a paragraph describing a day on the jury. Use the nouns jury and jurymen, and keep the proper agreement for the pronouns. It 308. Distinguish between its = possessive, and it's = it is: It's a long way up the hill; but the view from its top is splendid. 309. Avoid the promiscuous use of it, with and without an antecedent. Correct the following, using nouns as needed: It was sad to hear his account of it; he knew I would not talk of it, but he insisted upon it that it was necessary to tell all about it. SENTENCE FAULTS 463 Pronouns, Indefinite 310. Each, either, every, neither, anyone, everyone, no one are grammatically singular. 311. Likewise singular is the indefinite noun a person. 312. None is either singular or plural: None of his friends was present. None are better than my friends. 313. The use of a possessive adjective with an indefinite pronoun or adjective in the singular involves a special diffi- culty: their is obviously wrong; his alone or her alone does not provide for both sexes; his or her is awkward. This difficulty you may deal with in several ways: (1) By making the indefinite pronoun or adjective plu- ral, nd using their: All people like their own way. (2) By making his stand for both sexes: A person likes his own way. (3) By avoiding the construction: It is always pleasant to have one's own way. Practice the use of the possessive adjective with each of the pronouns listed hi 310, above. Pronouns, Case 314. The case of a pronoun depends entirely upon its syntax; it may or may not be in the same construction as its antecedent. I saw a man who knows you. I saw a man whom you know. Predicate Complement 315. After a finite form of the copula or a copulative verb, a pronoun used as predicate complement should be in the nominative case: It is 7 we he she they. It seemed to be they. 464 APPENDIX VIII 316. After an infinitive with a subject, a pronoun used as predicate complement should be in the objective case. He took her to be me. You believed us to be them? Object 317. When two pronouns, or a noun and a pronoun, are used as the object of a verb or of a preposition, see that the pronouns are in the objective case: This is between you and me. He told him and her. It is hard for mother and me. Pronouns Appositive 318. Put a pronoun used as an appositive in the same case as the substantive with which it is in apposition: 319. The commonest expression in which this principle is disregarded is the colloquial " Let's you and I go! " This has become so much the standard form that some will perhaps defend it as an idiom. This was true of some certainly of her and me. Pronouns in Clauses 320. In an indirect question, distinguish between the relative as subject and as object of the dependent verb: He asked who was going. He asked whom I meant. 321. After a verb of saying or thinking, distinguish be- tween the relative as subject and as object of the dependent verb: Clara, who I thought was in Europe, came home yesterday. The man whom I thought / had conquered, had conquered me. Who did they say met them? Whom did they say they had met ? 322. The case of the indefinite relative is determined by its use in the relative clause. SENTENCE FAULTS 465 Appoint whoever will be best for the place. Appoint whom you please. 323. In an elliptical clause completing a comparison, see that the pronoun is in the case demanded by the syntax: She is taller than I (/ subject of am understood). I like him better than her (her object of like understood). Is he as happy as she (is)? 324. Than whom, however, is an exception established by usage as permissible: This is Sarah, than whom there is no better cook. 325. In a relative clause in which the pronoun is the object of a preposition, be careful not to omit the preposi- tion: He left by the way by which he came. 326. When a compound preposition such as as to, in re- gard to, with respect to, governs a relative or interrogative clause, do not forget that the pronoun is still subject of the clause. Keep it in the nominative case: Not: There was a quarrel as to whom came out ahead; Bui: There was a quarrel as to who came out ahead. Omission of Relative 327. Do not omit the relative pronoun introducing a clause after an expletive: There were ten men who shouted. And who 328. Do not use and before who or which when no rela- tive has preceded: Not: He is a good actor and who has been very successful; But: He is a good actor who has been very successful. Shifting 329. Do not shift from who or which to that in parallel clauses: 466 APPENDIX VIII Not: A man whom you can trust and that everybody likes; But: A man whom you can trust and whom everybody likes. That and Which 330. Use that in essential relative clauses except: (1) When there is a break in continuity just after the pronoun. (2) When another that stands near. In these cases use which or who. Possessive Case 331. The possessive case should be restricted to indicate actual ownership by persons or their agency in some action. OAphrase 332. Use an qf-phrase, not a possessive, to show the object of an action: Not: Caesar's murder was a crime; But: The murder of Ccesar was a crime. 333. Instead of the possessive form used with the name of a thing to indicate a part of it, use an o/-phrase: Not: It lay in the river's bed; But: It lay in the bed of the river. 334. Exceptions to this rule are a few familiar time- phrases : a day's journey, an hour's delay, a month's holiday, a year's work, etc. Adjectives and Adverbs 335. If the action of the verb is modified, an adverb must be used; but if the verb merely links a modifier with a substantive to express a quality or the result of an action, an adjective must be used. Distinguish between adverbs and adjectives in the following: SENTENCE FAULTS 467 He looks good. He works well. A new broom sweeps clean. Dig the well deep. Dig carefully. 336. The words ill and well, as applied to health, are adjectives. Thus: "I feel well " refers to health, " I feel good," to morals; but in each case the predicate comple- ment is an adjective. "I feel bad," as applied to health, is correct, but on account of its associations is avoided even by those who use the incorrect, " I feel good." Leisurely, orderly, cleanly, and a few other adjectives have the ending ly. Perhaps the colloquial badly in " I feel badly " belongs with them; it seems to imply some- thing less than " I feel ill." Placing of Adverbs 337. Such words as almost, always, ever, hardly, just, merely, nearly, never, only, quite, scarcely, etc., should al- ways be placed next to and, if possible, before the word or word group that they modify. Practise the formation of many short sentences in which these adverbs are placed in their proper position. Negation 338. Do not use more than one negative adverb to modify the same word: Not: I couldn'f never tell; But: I could never tell; Or: I couldn't ever tell. 339. Two negatives may be used together to make an affirmative by denying the contrary. There was no one who did not protest = Every one protested. 340. Do not use not with the adverbs hardly, scarcely, and only: 468 APPENDIX VIII Not: I can't scarcely see; But: I can scarcely see. Not: I haven't any spare time only on Sunday; Bui: I have no spare time except on Sunday. Participles 341. A participle must be regarded as an adjective and must modify a substantive expressed in the same sentence: Not : Opening the door, the weather was found to be very cold ; But: Opening the door, we (or whoever opened the door) found that the weather was very cold. 342. Apparent violations of this usage occur with cer- tain words in -ing which form phrases used as prepositions : According to all I hear, he was guilty. Owing to lack of money he abandoned the suit. Because due is often a synonym of owing, many careless writers and speakers use due to as a phrasal preposition; but this is a matter of idiom, and due to is not yet recognized as correct in such expres- Gerund Phrase 343. An introductory gerund phrase must refer to the subject of the clause of which the phrase itself is a modifier: Not: In striking a match, the panther escaped (because here the panther is represented as striking the match) ; But: In striking a match, / let the panther escape. Elliptical Subordinate Clause 344. An introductory elliptical clause must refer to the subject of the following verb: Not: While laughing at this, ihefish got away; But: While laughing at this, we lost our fish. 346. Elliptical clauses should be made complete when- ever there is the slightest danger of misconstruction or ambiguity. While we were laughing at this, the fish got away. SENTENCE FAULTS 469 Sign of the Infinitive 346. Repeat the sign of the infinitive before each member of a series of infinitive phrases whenever they are separated by intervening words. The problem is to release these men from the service, to return them to their homes, and to restore them to their places in the social order. The Split Infinitive : 347. The placing of any word or phrase between to and its infinitive has usually been avoided by good writers of all periods, and writers who wish to avoid criticism will do well to follow this usage; but careful writers have often violated it to secure clearness or emphasis or even rhythm: "It was in the nature of a stroke to partly take away the use of a man's limbs." George Eliot. "Without permitting himself to actually mention the name." Matthew Arnold. "Send five souls more to just precede his own." Browning. Tense of Infinitive 348. The infinitive used to complete the meaning of a verb should be in the present tense, unless it represents action or state as completed prior to the action or state expressed by the verb on which it depends: Not: I should have been glad to have seen you at that time; But: I should have been glad [before now] to see you [at that time]; Or: I should have been glad to have seen you before I left. Comparison 349. Comparisons must be carried out completely and exactly; see 350-355. 350. Repeat the verb after than whenever there is the slightest ambiguity as to the construction of the following substantive: Not: Grace likes me better than you; But: ' than she does you; Or: " " " " " you do. 470 APPENDIX VIII 351. Prefer the awkwardness of the phrases as that of, than that of, to inexactness of comparison. Not: The silk in my dress is stronger than my mother's [what? silk or dress?]; But: The silk in my dress is stronger than that [silk] in my mother's [dress]. 352. When than and as are used in a double comparison, name the second person or thing in the comparison after the first occurrence of the adjective: Not: He is as tall, if not taller, than his brother; But: He is as tall as his brother, if not taller. Not: This boat is longer and as wide as that; But: This boat is longer than that, and as wide. 353. The names of objects compared must be kept in the same construction: Not: He preferred tramping to ride in a stuffy oar. But: He preferred tramping to riding in a stuffy car. 354. The substantive object must be of the same class as the substantive compared: Not: The Russians are the best fighters of all countries [neither Russians nor fighters belong to the class countries]; But: Of all nationalities, the Russians are the best fighters. 355. When an adjective in the superlative degree modi- fies a noun in the plural and one in the singular, place the noun immediately after the first use of the adjective: Not: One of the best, if not the best, apples is the russet; But: One of the best apples, if not the best, is the russet. Other 356. In comparing a member of a class with other mem- bers of the same class, use other, or an equivalent word; but do not use it when the comparison does not include mem- bers of the class: Not: Lincoln was greater than any president; [Lincoln belongs to the class presidents}. But: Lincoln was greater than any other president. SENTENCE FAULTS 471 Not: Lincoln was greater than any other general of the War [Lin- coln does not belong to the class generals]; But: Lincoln was greater tlian any general of the War. Not: The dwarf was stronger than any other man of twice his size [because other includes the dwarf in the class of men of twice his own size]; But: The dwarf was stronger than any man of twice his size [because the class is men of twice the dwarf's size], 357. Do not use other, or an equivalent word, with the superlative degree unless some other members of the class have been excluded : Not: Ivanhoe is the best of all Scott's other novels [unless some of the novels have been excluded from the comparison]; But: Ivanhoe is the best of all Scott's novels. Not: Socrates was the greatest of all other teachers [because other excludes Socrates] ; But: Socrates was the greatest of all teachers. That 358. Do not use that alone to express comparison: Not: I was that tired I couldn't walk a step further; But: I was so tired that I couldn't walk a step further. Not: I was that tired; But: I was very tired. Better 359. In comparing only two persons or things, use the comparative degree: Not: Of these two books, Kenilworth is the best; But: Of these two books, Kenilworth is the better. Any 360. Do not use any with the superlative degree; use all: Not: Oranges are the best fruit of any; But: Oranges are the best fruit of all. So 361. Do not use so or such absolutely: Not: The lake is so pretty! Not: She is such a nice girl! 472 APPENDIX VIII Repetition of Demonstrative 362. The article, possessive pronoun, or pronominal adjective should be repeated before each member of a series of adjectives or nouns when each member refers to a different person or thing. It should be used only before the first member when all refer to the same person or thing: I have a pink and a white tulip (two). I have a pink and white tulip (one). His cousin and his classmate (two persons). His cousin and classmate (one person). 363. But the demonstrative is often repeated for emphasis when the same person or thing is meant: He is a gentleman and a scholar. This son and this brother deserted his mother and sister. Coordination 364. Do not coordinate different parts of the verb: Not: I began to laugh (infin.) and crying (gerund) at once; But: I began to laugh (infin.) and cry (infin.) at once; Or: I began laughing (gerund) and crying (gerund) at once. 365. Do not coordinate different classes of pronouns referring to the same antecedent: Not: On the branch was a bird which I had seen before but could not identify it; But: On the branch was a bird which I had seen before but could not identify. (Here but connects the verbs.) Or: On the branch was a bird which I had seen before but which I could not identify. (Here but connects the relative pronouns and throws more emphasis on each clause than when it connects the verbs.) 366. Do not coordinate a subordinate clause and a phrase : Not : A man of icealth (phrase) and who has brains (subord. clause) can do much good; But: A man of wealth and brains can do much good. Or: A man of wealth who has brains can do much. SENTENCE FAULTS 473 367. Do not coordinate a substantive and a clause: Not: That he had money and his experience were both facts in his favor; But: His money and his experience were both in his favor. 368. Do not coordinate an abstract and a verbal noun: Not: Your sympathy and your seeing how the case stands are a Your sympathy and your grasp of the situation are a help. help; But: Correlative Conjunctions 369. Place correlatives immediately before the words that they connect: Not: He would neither tell mother nor John; But: He would tell neither mother nor John. Not: They not only laugh, at his jokes, but also at his expression. But: They laugh, not only at his jokes, but also at his expression. Conjunctions 370. Do not connect a relative clause to its principal clause by and or but: Not: He quickly learned Spanish, but which he as quickly forgot; But: He quickly learned Spanish, which he as quickly forgot. 371. Do not connect by and or but a modifier that fol- lows a noun with one that precedes it: Not: He had many an amusing story and referring to the Senator; But: He had many an amusing story referring to the Senator. 372. Do not connect a series of principal clauses by and or but or for; subordinate the less important: He went to New York and remained there ten years, for he was tired of living in a small town, but he had not been long in Center- ville. This childish type of sentence in which one idea is tagged on to another, without regard to their relationship or importance, must be guarded against with special care. 373. Do not make a series of which the last two members are connected by and, if these members are different parts of speech: 474 APPENDIX VIII Not: He is red-haired (adj.), of ruddy complexion (adj. phrase), and walks (verb) with a limp; But: He is red-haired (adj.), ruddy (adj.) of complexion, and lame (adj.); Or: He is red-haired and ruddy of complexion, and he walks with a limp. 374. Do not repeat the conjunction that when it is sep- arated by modifiers from the subject and predicate that it introduces: It is very hard that after all the time I have spent in preparation and all the energy I have given to finding ways and means, [that] the project should be abandoned. 375. When you write and that in a sentence, look back to see whether you have an earlier that. If not, insert one. 376. Do not use the adverbs so and then as coordinating conjunctions; either add the conjunction and or but, or reconstruct: Not: He had nothing to do, so he came early; But: As he had nothing to do, he came early. Not: I had my luncheon, then I went shopping; But: After luncheon I went shopping. Prepositions 377. Repeat the preposition and article before each member of a series of substantives except where the sub- stantives form a single idea. The laws of the English and of the French differ widely (two sets of laws). It is as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians (one set of laws). 378. When different prepositions are required before the same substantive, the first preposition must not be omitted or left dangling: Not: He has no longer any faith or love for his son; Or: He has no longer any faith in or love for his son; But: He has no longer any faith in his son, or love for him. 379. The old rule that a preposition should not end a sentence is no longer regarded. That is the house he died in. SENTENCE FAULTS 475 Clauses 380. A subordinate substantive clause used as subject or predicate complement should be introduced by a conjunction: Not: I hurt my foot is the reason why I am late; But: That I hurt my foot is the reason why I am late; Or: The reason why I am late is that I hurt my foot. But still better, because more direct, is: I am late because I hurt my foot. 381. Do not use a clause introduced by when or where as predicate complement: Not: The most interesting part of the book is where the duel is The most interesting part of the book is the account of the fought; But: duel. Not: A commune is when property is held in common; But: A commune is an organization in which property is held in common. 382. Do not leave a clause unfinished and continue the sentence with another: Not: The belief that I should succeed, in fact, I had no thought of failure. SENTENCES FOR CORRECTION 383. The following faulty sentences are not artificial examples manufactured to illustrate bad writing but genuine quotations from various sources reputable news- papers, magazines, and books. The teacher or student can easily find others in current publications. The col- lection and criticism of such examples will aid greatly, not only in developing the critical faculty, but also in pro- moting variety and flexibility of style. Criticize and rewrite the following: Some of these men are most interesting and I feel I'd enjoy a talk with them others very different and glad to see them depart. The President was at the game and many notables from all over the world and there was much enthusiasm the President's party changing from the Navy to the Army side as the game progressed. 476 APPENDIX VHI The chairman called today and what an insignificant fellow he is and to think he was offered the ambassadorship what a fall down for our nation from the rank of our former representatives there had he accepted. He probably sent his telegram on account of public opinion there in Mexico and that it was best for him so to do. Think of the countless libraries that he has given to the poeple of this country, and the educational advantages of which will con- tinue long after he is dead and his name will be a household word for many years. This by the way is my birthday forty-nine years old and seems such a short time ago that I was entering the practice of law. What a pleasant tempered fellow he is hardly if ever out of sorts which is the more remarkable when one sees the trying things before him each day. The resignation was brought about owing to differences of prin- ciples between Krylenko and the council of people's commissaries as well as a disagreement with the latest actions of the council. This permits a workman to quit his job for a variety of reasons. Among them unpleasant language used by the boss toward the workman or any of his family. If the laborer thinks the boss is not acting in an "honorable manner" or in a way to bring dis- credit to the latter the laborer can quit and ask and get three months' pay. As regards the leaky cans being packed at night time that cer- tainly is all rot. The fact of the matter is we have an enemy in our camp up there as the quartermaster's department knew here in Omaha that they were going to receive leaky cans before they were received, getting a letter from Sioux City stating to examine certain marked cases, which he did and found four leakers in one of the cases. So it is evident from this that we are harboring an enemy at that point. Washington today supplies by far the greater volume of news matter of any world capital. Some systematic effort to instill this in the hearts and minds of all peoples affiliated with the Germans will be necessary owing to the general war weariness. That definite plans possibly were framed in Berlin looking to this end is extremely likely. He is a constant drinker of brandy, and must have a strong head to keep that up for long. He was more of a reserved, but sturdy, quick acting person. They stand side by side, evidently quite oblivious and indifferent to the folk about them. On going up to town on a July day it seems much hotter there, so much so that one pants for air. Thoughtlessly turning over a boulder, there was ants beneath it. The men had laid out all night in the cold. It was this circumstance that brought about the downfall of the SENTENCE FAULTS 477 cabinet of this very honest and capable professor of mathematics, but who as a statesman is altogether lamentable. An attempt was made by the minister to recover the check for Duval, on the ground that he was acquainted both with the latter and with the man in whose favor it was drawn, a certain Vigo, editor of a paper of insidiously pacifist tendencies, and which sub- sequent developments showed to have been subsidized. If convicted, the law may sentence him to death. His voice stopped exactly like when you hit a neighbor's gramophone with a well-aimed brick, the same instant silence, and the rustle of the paper stopped, and everything was still. . . . In the main he followed his regular sermon, which was devoted principally against vice and intemperance. The jam became so severe that a number of women suffered slight bruises in the lobby. They have not, because they could not, go further than generali- ties. They expect all controversies to be settled by the other side ad- hering to their view. I am kind of interested in this. Though but young trees, there was a coating of fallen needles under the firs. Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Reed eat a fat squirrel dinner Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Cook and they were shot by Mr. Cook. The cheering for the queen was full-throated and with no sign of doubt, because of her Bavarian birth and upbringing she is looked on as a Belgian queen and nothing else. Popular opinions there are stifled and substituted by made-to- order comment from the government. Once you wish to identify these flowers, there is none that es- capes you. He then concluded by asking whom that Partridge was whom he had called a worthless fellow. The President was mislead. As to what he learned through his talks with officials is not divulged. The officer is delegated with the task of haranguing his men. These charges were circulated with a view of making the social- ists restless. What a sight to see so many people together, that was a greater spectacle than the game by far to me. Having a husband who had shown nothing but the lowest depths of brutishness shortly after a hasty marriage of three years before, Mrs. Blink had come to look upon George, his clean-cut manly nature, his sharp black eyes, and broad forehead as a type of the best in masculine nature, and was horrified beyond measure to behold him lying in the street. 478 APPENDIX VIII This is the woman that the priest pronounced his fond benedic- tion upon, and afterwards his own Methodist parson had done the same, for she was Catholic and he was Methodist, and their agree- ment was to allow each one to keep their own religion. His nature, however, was the opposite of that of his wife, and a more sad example of the hopelessness of our present marriage sys- tem could not well be found. The censorship established at Columbus and Hachits have pre- vented correspondents from sending news. Coming back to the place after a journey, the brilliant light is very striking. The mediation board is hard at work and have conferences each day. What a fine, democratic fellow he is, and whose time is up and soon to leave. The Union officials said that immediately the Chairman recog- nized the organization, they could furnish labor. Yesterday the judge reinstated the case, after scolding the at- torney, whom he declared misrepresented the facts to him. He found one of his horses dead as he was sawing wood in the stable. The best blood of the country are in these cars. It is but a question of time until the revolutionary socialists who compose decidedly the most powerful party, takes the reins from the hands of the elements in Petrograd. The power of the opposition parties is indicated by the resigna- tion of Premier von Seidler during the past week, the Poles uniting against the provisional budget, imperilling the government major- ity, Von Seidler resigned. My country and my country's cause command my highest al- legiance, and to them I am ready to make every sacrifice, both personally and political. 384. The following extract is taken without change from an article published in one of the leading American news- papers. You will find upon examination that it contains almost every type of sentence error. Rewrite it, one sen- tence at a time. Cut out all provincialisms and all the slang that is not picturesque. This will be rambling account of an attempt to get in touch with our soldiers. In the first place it was an all night journey into the interior of France, a change of cars, once at 3 o'clock in the morning and the other at 6 o'clock, both of the changes being made in the dark, and to add to the thrill of the journey, being near the fight- ing zone and the inability to speak a single word of French. SENTENCE FAULTS . 479 RAILROADS WELL KEPT UP Naturally when given permission to visit an American training camp, I elected to go where I would find the boys from home. The American officer who gave the military pass was as polite and as obliging as any Frenchman ever thought of being. He thought he was giving me the right instructions and was telling me where to go to find my friends. However, the camp I visited was nothing more than a replace division. Yet the trip was not without its many interesting developments. The first thing which hits a visitor to France in the eye, and brings home to one with a crash, is how lamentably poor is our much vaunted railroad system. All know now that when the big call came and the railroads were put to the test, they fell to pieces. Here in France, after four years of war, even handling double the amount of freight and troops, the system is almost perfect. When a call was made at headquarters at this replace division or whatever it is called in G. O. (general orders) , I found many officers and friends on the job from home and others I had met at the various American camps in the States. SOLDIERS VISIT VILLAGES I met one officer, a former captain of a national guard on the Mexican border last year, doing his bit provost marshaling. Where the troops were stationed was formerly a French artillery training camp. It is situated high up in the mountains, about 2,500 feet above sea level, and has a very pretty setting. There is an old village and a new village; both are quaint and typically French in every way. The newest house in the old village was built in 1843. Scattered around and nestling in what we would call back home canyons are a number of smaller villages. Each has its old church, and on Saturday afternoon and on Sundays our soldiers take long hikes visiting these villages. One may only speak of this lot of American soldiers at this time, for the rest of them are scattered over France in other American training camps. Those I saw were in good health, even though they reached this camp in the special de luxe cars furnished by the French government for transporting troops. Right here one pauses, after seeing these cars, to ask what has become of the Ameri- can soldier who railed last year because he was sent to the Mexican border in chair cars and not in Pullman sleepers. A French troop train, the cars the length of a good-sized suit case, are all labeled so that the quartermaster may not make a mistake. Homme, 46; chevan, 8 (46 men or 8 horses). In these cars the American soldiers are now traveling, and from now until they get back to the good old U. S. A., unless they travel on per- mission, they will travel to and from the training camps or the 480 APPENDIX VHI front. In the center of the cars are two rows of wooden, straight backed benches, and, believe me, when 46, or, as the case may be, 48 men are packed in these toy cattle cars, it's a case of when one cares to move his position all must move together. They are sans light and sans heat, so when American soldiers took a January day ride (their first journey by rail in France), it is not be to won- dered at if inquiries were made for the fellows who howled about riding in chair cars in America. The opportunity to kick and complain, taking the dope from the past kicking performance of the national guard or regular soldier, would strike one as offering a splendid chance to air his grievance. Yet I never heard a single soldier raise his voice in protest because he traveled in horse or cattle cars. The psychology of this is easy American adaptability and the realization that at last he is a soldier and must take a soldier's pot luck. He wants luxury when it is to be had and others of his kind are getting it, but when he knows the soldiers of France, real fighters if ever real fighters were born, have been going to and from the front in such cars, your good American soldiers in the making laughs and makes a joke of what he calls his new style "side-door Pullman." WOMEN HANDLE TRUCKS While all this stupendous movement of troops is going on, there is the handling of the millions of tons of supplies and a very heavy passenger travel. Of course passenger travel gets second considera- tion. In every road terminal were long lines of freight cars loaded to the last pound of weight they could carry, while in the freight sheds other stuff was waiting for cars. Man power has given away to woman power. It is all sex equality with a vengeance, for the French women seem to be able to handle the trucks as easily as do the men. And what few men are on the job are poilu recovering or recovered from wounds. It was the same in the fields of the farming districts through which the train passed. Men and women were doing their spring plowing. Sometimes they had horses, but for the most part it was a team of slow moving sad-eyed oxen. Once or twice I saw a team of oxen driven tandem, the tandem being a small burro about the size of an eastern Oregon or western Washington jack rabbit. Yet these farms looked remarkably well kept up and the scene all looked very peaceful and rural. The French franc and the centime have our soldiers by the ears. Here is a story told me by an American major, chief of staff. He was passing through Paris. In front of him buying a ticket across town on the underground Metro were two American soldiers. The enlisted man placed an American nickel before the woman ticket seller and called out his station. The woman handed him SENTENCE FAULTS 481 back two tickets and what was the equivalent in our money to 3 cents in change. Men in uniform get reduced rates on the rail- roads and the street cars. To add to this confusion is the coinage of the allied nations. In travels about one runs into both amusing and annoying ex- periences. For instance, on the train which took me from Paris, my traveling companions were three. One was a French colonel; across his breast were many war decorations and on the sleeve of his coat were gold stripes signifying the number of times he had been wounded. Another was a French major, with fewer decora- tions, a living picture of Wilton Lackaye. The third, in civilian dress, was evidently a secret service man. He was deeply interested in my arm brassard. Finally when he could not stand it any longer, he demanded to see my permission. I could only get the drift of what they were talking about, but I sensed I was the subject of their conversation. I pulled the haughty stare stuff, then drew out my papers and handed them to the French general. The old fellow caught my meaning at once and maybe he didn't poke fun at the bird in citizen clothes. He found my papers all right, and until they got off, I conversed in sign language and used up all the copy paper I had with me in carrying on a conversation with them. When these two French officers got off a young French second lieutenant got into my compartment. After a long time his curi- osity got the better of him, and he, too, wanted to know. I was wise by this time and I handed him my card. "Aaah," he ex- claimed, "1'correspondent," then he explained he was returning to the front line after recovering from his wounds. His description of the wounds he had received was done in pantomime, but it was dramatic. He pointed to several places on his body where at the hospital they had removed from his anatomy a part of the steel out- put of Germany, also from the side of his face. He was a fine young man, about 28 years old I should judge. He was a handsome chap, and the shell, which he described when it exploded as being, "ooo la, la, bom-bom," left no facial blemishes. MANY READ ENGLISH He could read English, as can most of the French, whether he be an officer, poilu or plain city dweller, and he wrote me of many things which I dare not set down here. His name was Felix Pel- letiere. My only hope is that he passes safely through the rest of the war, for only in a few instances has it been my good fortune to have met such a perfect gentleman and one with such perfect courtesy. 482 APPENDIX VIII IDIOMS 385. In the following list note the idioms in regard to which you make mistakes, and master the correct forms: Accordance with. In accordance with (not to) our agreement. . . . Agree. James agrees with me. I agree to your terms. Ripe fruit agrees With him. Alike. Do not use both with it: The twins are alike (not both alike). All right. Note that there is no such form as alright. Alternatives. Do not say several alternatives, as the meaning is confined to two things or courses. And. (1) Do not use in place of the infinitive particle: Try to (not and) sleep. Come to (not and) see me. (2) Do not use and where connection is already made in another way : I have a large cat (and) which is an angora. He bought a piano (and) for which he has not paid. Angry. Use with of persons, at only of things. Another. Follow by than (not from) : A man of another temperament than Caesar's. As. Do not use for that: I do not know that I can tell. Not that I know of. As to. Do not use before how, where, when, whom, what, or other adverbs or pronouns introducing indirect questions: How this may be, I don't understand. Where he is, I don't know. Whom you mean, I cannot imagine. SENTENCE FAULTS 483 At. Do not use with where: Where is he? Not: Where is he at ? Between. Do not use for among. Between applies to per- sons or things taken by twos, and is followed by the ob- jective case: Between the King and his general. Between you and me. Between her and him. Blame. Do not use with on: Don't blame me for it. Not: Don't blame it on me. But. Do not use but what for that or but that: I do not doubt that he will come; I don't know but that he did. Cannot help. After cannot help use the participle, not the finite verb with but: You cannot help liking (not help but like) her. Caused by. This phrase is not a preposition. Do not say : He missed his train, caused by (for because of) the high water. Compare. Use with to mean measure by; to to express similarity: Why compare small things with great? He compared her to a rose. Differ. Use with, when the meaning is disagree; from when the meaning is be different: I differ toith you on this point. This text differs from the other in this respect. Different. Use with from, never with than or to: She is different from (not to) her sister. Directly. Do not use for a* soon as: As soon as (not directly) I saw him, I knew he was an impostor. 484 APPENDIX VIII Do and Did. It is usually better to repeat the verb than to use these substitutes. Due to. Do not use for owing to or because of. (See 342.) Each other. Use each other for two persons; one another for more than two. Else. (1) Follow by but, not than: No one else but (not than) I could have waited so long. (2) Usage warrants the addition of 's to else: Anybody else's (not anybody's else) house. Except. Do not use for unless. (See without.} Do not go unless (not except) I tell you. Former . . . latter. Avoid these words if possible, for they are often ambiguous. Got. (1) Omit with have when it shows possession: I have (not have got) a new hat. (2) Use must instead of have got to: I must (not have got to) buy some gloves. (3) Do not use with married: They were married (not got married). If. Whether is now preferred to if in an indirect question: I do not know whether (not if) he can. In search of. Search for is correct: but in search of: In search of gold (not for gold). Inside of. Do not use for urithin, to express time: Within (not inside of) a year I shall finish. Omit the preposition: He was inside (not inside of) the limit. Listen to. Listen to (not at) me. SENTENCE FAULTS 485 Like. Do not use for as if: They walked as if (not like) they were tired. Myself. Do not use for 7 in a series : Grace, Ben, and 7 (not myself) are going. Neither . . . nor. Do not say : Neither he or I. Nothing more nor less. It was nothing more nor (not or) less. Number. Treat the number as singular; a number as plural. Of. Do not use of for have, as : could of, would of, had of. Of any. Do not use for of all: This is the best book of all (not of any) I have read. Off. Never add of: Take your hand off (not off of) the paper. One. Use instead of you for an indefinite pronoun, except in conversation and colloquial writing. On to. Avoid if possible. Use on, upon, or to. Other. No other than not no other but. Ought. Never use with had. Over with. Omit with. Say : The game is over. Outside of. Omit preposition. (See inside of.) Provided that. Do not use providing: I shall go provided (not providing) that the meeting is not again postponed. Preferable. Never use more preferable or preferable than. Quantity. Use to mean amount, not number. Quite a few. Avoid quite a few, quite a while, quite a num- ber. Reference. Use with reference to, not in reference to. Regard. Use with regard to or as regards, not with regards to. Respect. Use with respect to not respect of. Same. Avoid same altogether as a pronoun. I received your enclosure and thank you for it (not the same). 486 APPENDIX VIII Seldom. Say : I seldom if ever go ; or I seldom or never go. Self-confessed. A confession can be made only by oneself. So. (1) Do not use absolutely: It is so pretty! (2) After not, so is usually to be preferred, to as: This is not so good as that. Such a. Do not use absolutely: She is such a nice girl! That. Do not use that for so: I was so tired (not that tired) that I could not remember. To. Do not use for at: He was not at (not to) home. Unique. Do not use if there is more than one of the kind. Used to could. A locution worthy of study but not of use. View to. Say: With a view to (not of) making. Want to. Carelessly used for ought, had better: You had better (not want to) keep out of that. Way. Use way, not ways. It is a long way (not ways) from here. Were. Always use you were, never you was. Without. Do not use for unless. Without is a preposition or an adverb, never a conjunction: Do not go unless (not without) I bid you. Would. Would have is much used vulgarly for the preterite in such expressions as, It's a wonder you wouldn't have seen him. You and me. Never use you and I after a preposition. SENTENCE FAULTS 487 EXERCISES IN DISCRIMINATION .- 386. With the aid of the dictionary study differences in meaning and use of the following: admit confess apparent evident audience spectators avenge revenge avocation vocation aware conscious beside besides character repu tation recommendation claim assert maintain common mu tual comprehensible comprehensive contemptible contemptuous continual continuous credible creditable credulous definite definitive discover invent disinterested uninterested distinctly distinctively elegant fine grand lovely splendid element factor feature phase equivalent equal essential necessary excessively exceedingly expect presume anticipate suspect farther further fewer less first two two first (last two .two last) hanged hung happen transpire healthy healthful wholesome hereafter henceforth imply infer in into 488 APPENDIX VIII inaugurate initiate individual person party insignificant trivial insoluble unsolvable learn teach leave let lend loan liable likely apt lie lay like as if literally figuratively majority plurality most mend repair necessities necessaries observance observation occasion induce cause on upon opposite contrary oral verbal patron customer peculiar odd unusual perpetually continually poisonous venomous practical practicable quiet quiescent raise rear raise rise rebellion revolt revolution recipe receipt recollect remember relation relative repudiate deny respectively respectfully respectably scholar student pupil seat set sit secure procure sensation emotion space period SENTENCE FAULTS 489 stay stop stimulant stimulus stimulation sustain incur talented gifted thrifty thriving transaction incident accident u nless without u tter absolu te entire various several witness see COLLOQUIALISMS 387. The following should be avoided in normal writing: about, for almost ad., for advertisement advisedly, for intentionally aggravate, for provoke or annoy alibi, for defense, excuse all the farther, all the faster, for as far as, as fast as allow, for think or admit allude to, for mention along this line, for of this kind anyplace ) /or anywhere anywheres j ' apt, for likely or liable around, for about as, for that: I don't know as atrocious, for disagreeable authoress, for woman writer average, for customary, ordinary, usual badly, for very much balance, for remainder bank on, for rely on be back, for return belong, without an object bogus, for counterfeit bound, for determined brainy, for intelligent build, for make 490 APPENDIX VIII bulk, for greater part bunch, crowd, far set, group business, for right calculate, for think calculated, for likely can, for may citizen, for civilian claim, for assert clever, for good-natured combine, for combination company, for visitor complected, for complexioned conclude, for decide could of, may of, must of, for could have, etc. couple, for several critically, for seriously ' for attractive or little curious, for odd, singular date, for engagement, appointment declared, for said demean, for degrade demise, for death depot, for station. directly, for immediately doctress, lady doctor, for woman doctor edify, for please, entertain electrocute, for kill by electricity elegant, for good endorse, for approve enthuse, for be enthusiastic entitled, for authorized, privileged episode, for occurrence every, for entire, full every place, for everywhere example, for problem expect, for suppose fail, as a transitive verb fail, when there has been no effort favor, for resemble feel of, for feel finances, for wealth first-rate, for well. SENTENCE FAULTS 491 fix, for repair, arrange, settle folks, for family foot the bill, for pay forebears, for ancestors funny, for strange gent, for gentleman gentleman, for man gentleman friend, for friend good, for well gotten, for got guess, for think, suppose, imagine had have, had of, for had (as, If he had of asked me, . . .) had ought, for ought handy, for near heigh th, for height home for house how, for What did you say? human, for human being hurry, for haste hurt, for harm idea, for purpose immediately, for as soon as invite, for invitation kind of 'for rather lady, for woman lady friend, for friend learn, for teach leave, for let ,. r ,/or h'ef lives j J lengthways, for lengthwise loan, for lend locate, for settle >* of },/ormuch mad, for angry make, for earn midst, in our, for among us mighty, for very mind, for obey minus, for lacking 492 APPENDIX VIII moneyed, for wealthy most, for almost never, as merely emphatic for not nice, for pleasant nohow, for not at all nowhere near, for not nearly opine, for think out loud, for aloud overly, for too pants, for trousers partial to, for fond of party, for person photo, for photograph piece, for short distance poorly, for ill post, for inform pretend, for profess quite, for rather or very much real, for very reckon, for think reccommend, for reccommendation regular, for real remember of, for remember researcher, for investigator rig, for outfit, costume right, for very right off^ } /" ^mediately, at once right smart, for a good many run, for manage say, listen, imperative to introduce a remark say so, for consent, n. second-handed, for secondhand settle, for pay shape, for condition show, for chance show, for performance show up, for expose side with, for agree with SENTENCE FAULTS 493 sideways, far sidewise sign up, for sign simply, for really since, for ago size up, for estimate smart, for bright, able some, for somewhat soon, for willingly sort of, for rather stand for, for permit start, for begin state, for say substantiate, for prove suicided, for killed himself sure, for surely tasty, for tasteful these kind, for this kind this here, that there, for this, that through, for finished transpire, for happen unbeknown, unbeknownst, for unknown unique, for rare ventilate, for express, disclose was had: A delightful time was had by all. well, to introduce a sentence while, for whereas, because whip, for defeat whereabouts, for where why, to introduce a sentence write up, n.,for account of you all | we all ' , meaning merely you, we, who. who all) 494 APPENDIX VIH OVERWORKED PHRASES 388. Read this list and add to it as many similar ex- pressions as you can. Then avoid them all. cupid's bow cup that cheers devouring element festive board own vine and fig-tree skeleton in the closet old Sol fragrant weed downy couch dogs of war silvery locks velvety grass feathery snow starry eyes cupid's snare cakes and ale Patience on a monument worm i' the bud when my ship comes in distance lends enchantment shady nooks hide modestly paths of rectitude inviting dalliance ripple of girlish laughter wrought sad havoc cottage (or village) nestled connubial bliss snowy blossoms discreet silence culinary purposes familiar landmark fateful day epistolary efforts impenetrable mystery sequestered corner a mere song horny-handed son of toil fleecy clouds borne in triumph depth of winter SENTENCE FAULTS 495 lavish profusion humble friends heart's content old-world chivalry nefarious occupation the good-wife sun smites remorselessly modest requirements hotly contested misguided individual untoward accident more forcible than polite profound silence reigned fleecy clouds watery grave rippling water equal to the occasion quivered with excitement along these lines in the last analysis INDEX [Titles of separate publications are in italics; titles of single poems and short stories are quoted; pages containing quotations are printed in bold face.] Abstracts, making, 150 Abbreviation, 442 Action and movement, description of, 185 Addison, Joseph, 351, 354 Adjective clause, essential modifier, 86f.; non-essential modifier, 87; position and punctuation, 87 Adjective modifiers, blended, 69; essential, 69; non-essential, 69; place of, 70; punctuation, 69 Adjective phrases, place of, 93; punctuation of series of, 70 Adjectives and Adverbs, 466ff. Adjectives, connected by conjunc- tions, 70; two modifying same noun, 69 "Adonais," 407 Adverb, dislocated, 70 Adverbial clauses, non-essential, position and punctuation, 87 Adverbial modifiers, place of, 70 - Adverbial phrases, essential mod- ifiers, 70; non-essential modifiers, 70; placing for emphasis, 93; punctuation, 70f . ; rule for placing, 93 Adverb, relative, for subordination, 83 Adverbs, placing of, 467; punctua- tion of series, 71; qualifying predication, 68; transitional, 133; of negation, 467f . Alexandrine, 407 Alliteration, 401f. Almanac, Daily Neios, 232; Whit- aker's, 232; World, 232 American at Oxford, An, 29 Amplification, 204; illustrated, 190 Analogy, argument by, 243; method, 243f.; theory, 243; use of, 244 Analysis of narrative material, 149 Anapest, 398f. And, comma with, 73 And who, 465 Annual Magazine, 232 Answering letters, 389 Antecedent, pronoun near, lOlf.; definitely expressed, 102f.; un- mistakable, 102 Antithesis, 104 Any, 471 Apostrophe, 441f. Appearances, 104 Appendix, 412-495 Apposition, substantive clause in, punctuation of, 86 Appositive, defined, 69; punctuation of, 69; pronoun, 464 Arden, Joan, 164ff., 178f. Argument, 222-254; aims in, 247; by analogy, 243f.; audience in, 247f.; authority in, 226-232; basis of, 222; on current topics, 230; deductive reasoning in, 237- 240; errors in, causes of, 227, 235, 238f.; evidence in, 222-226; ev- idence, circumstantial, 224f., 229; evidence, direct, 223f.; evidence, indirect, 224f., 229; evidence tested, 228; facts tested, 230f.; fact and inference, difference be- tween, 234; formal, 249-253; formal, body of, 249ff.; formal, 497 498 INDEX conclusion, 250f.; formal, intro- duction, 249ff . ; formal, refutation, 253; hints for, 239; inductive reasoning in, 233-236; persuasion in, 246ff.; premise, major and minor, 237f.; propaganda paper, 365; reasoning in, 234f.; in re- search, 381; two sides in, 223; use of, 222 Arnold, Matthew, 20, 21, 265, 365. 400, 403 Article, informative, 335, 340, 350 Assignment, 8, 19, 29, 35, 49, 56, 62, 67, 71, 81, 89, 95, 100, 105, 110, 116, 120, 122, 129, 137, 140, 146, 150, 153, 163, 168, 173, 178, 185, 188, 194, 197, 204, 205, 207, 212, 219, 225, 232, 236, 240, 242, 245, 249, 253, 265, 273, 281, 283, 288, 289, 291, 295, 298, 301, 305, 314, 316, 320, 322, 324, 334, 339, 345, 351, 354, 356, 359, 361, 363, 366, 375, 390, 392, 394, 396, 402, 406, 407, 409 Atlantic Monthly, 63, 163, 339, 354, 355f. Attention, fundamental, 38; corrects faults, 38 Audience, in persuasion, 247f. Austen, Jane, 142, 157, 364, 373, 388 Autobiography, 363 Balanced sentence, 104 Ballad, The, 403; meter of, 401 "Ballad of Trees and the Master, A," 19 Barrack Room Ballads, 204 Barrie, Sir James, 259, 325 "Battle of Otterburn, The," 407 Beebe, William, 162, 163, 363, 354 Beerbohm, Max, 351 Bennett, Arnold, 157, 203f. Benson, A. C., 357 Benson, E. F., 324 Better, 471 Bibliography, 382; card, 422 Bierce, Ambrose, 305, 323f. Biographical Study, 357-363; I with abundant material, 357f. II, with few facts, 359; III, in- ternal evidence, 362; problems in, 358 "Bishop's Comedy, The," 305 "Black Cat, The," 141 Blackmore, R. D., 141 Blackwood, Algernon, 5, 77, 267, 271, 305 Blank verse, 400 Bleak House, 139, 157 "Boarded Window, The," 326 Body, in formal argument, 249ff.; news, 286 Book, appeal of, variable, 373 Books, system in use of, 24 " Borrowed Plumes, In," 305, 326 Boswell, James, 233, 364 "Bottle Imp, The," 325 " Bounty- Jumper, The," 326 " Brachycephalic Bohunkus, The," 325 Brackets, 44, 455 "Bridge-builders, The," 305 Brief (model), 251f. Brooke, Rupert, 19 Browsing process in reading, 22, 27 "Brushwood Boy, The," 141, 305 Bryant, W. C., 402 Bryce, Sir James, 146, 233 Bunyan, John, 403 Burr, Amelia, 19 Burroughs, John, 136, 163, 252f. Butler, Samuel, 271, 366 Byron, 408 "By Water," 326 Cacophony, 107 "Cain's Atonement," 326 Cambridge and Its Colleges, 29 Cannan, Gilbert, 333 Canterbury Tales, 380 Capital letters, use of, 39f . Capitals, 424-428; and italics, 422 Card catalogue, how to use, 23 Carlyle, Thomas, 40, 233, 388 INDEX Carpenter, Edward, 30. 349 "Case of Paramore, The," 305 Carrell, Alexis, 233 Carroll, Lewis (Dodgson, C. L.), 269, 388 Cause and effect, 192, 208, 213 Century Magazine, 63 Chamberlin, Thomas Chrowder, 233 "Change of Treatment, A," 305, 315 Character drawing, 213-219; methods, 213f.; indirect method, 214; purpose, 213; useful sugges- tions for, 318 Character essays, methods of writ- ing, 354f. Characteristics and sources of short story, 303f. Characterization, 193; direct ex- position avoided in, 317; essen- tials in, 317; ideal in, 316; in play, 331 Characters in short story, 316-320; few, 316; naming of, 319 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 380, 407 Chesterton, Gilbert, 279 Child in the House, The, 265 Choice determined by rhythm, 264 Choosing a subject, 381 Christmas Carol, A, 305 Chronicle, Old English, 142 Clarendon, Earl of, 229 Clarke, A Treasury of War Poetry, 19 Clauses, 475; correlative in content, 76ff.; correlative, use of, 77f.; essential and non-essential, how to distinguish, 88; parallel in con- struction, 88; parallel, position of, 79; pronouns in, 464f.; punctua- tion of, in compound sentences, 79f.; subordinate, arrangement of, 88; subordinate, function of, 86; subordinate, number in com- plex sentence, 85; transitional, 133; transitional, position of, 133; transitional, punctuation of, 68 Clearness, 100-105; grammatical correctness requisite for, 100; mastery of pronoun, requisite for, 101 ; proper arrangement requisite for, 101; parallelism aid to, 103 Climax, 88; defined, 156; keep in mind, 306; order of, 104, 125; in play, 330 Coffin, Howard E., 344 Colon, 447f. Colloquialisms, 489 Comedy plot, 156 Comma, 44, 80, 86ff., 94, 448-451; abuses of, 451f.; with and, 73; omitted with and, 73; with adjec- tive modifiers, 68; with adverbial modifiers, 68; with conjunction!, 79f.; with independent elements, 68; with multiple elements, 73; in simple sentence, 68-71; use of single, 67 Commas, use few, 71; two, 67 Compactness, 96-100; rules for, 97f. Compact structure, illustrated and explained, 96f. Comparison, 469ff.; and contrast, 192; use of, 125 Complement, predicate, 55, 463 Complex sentence, 56; construction of, 82, 84; correlation of clauses in form and content, 77, 79 Compound sentence, 56; basic prin- ciple, 76 Compound-Complex sentence, 84 Concatenation, 258 Concentration, 29 Conclusion, 237f.; in formal argu- ment, 249ff.; in play, 330 Condition of success, 340 Congressional Record, 233 Conjunction, 73f., 79f. ; coordinating, 132f.; correlative, 472; omission of, 73f., 76, 79f.; repeated, 103; for subordination, 83 Conjunctions, 473f. Conrad, Joseph, 4, 58f., 65, 67, 72, 74. 76, 77f., 173, 264, 305, 322, 363 Constitutional History of England, 146 500 INDEX Contents, tables of, 24 "Contraband of War," 305 Contrast, 88 "Contributors' Club" in Atlantic Monthly, 355f. Conversation, paragraphing, 122 Coordination, 472f. Corbin, John, 29 "Courting of Dinah Shadd, The," 320 Cranford, 141 Critic, good, 370f.; must be un- biased, 372 Critical attitude, 374 Criticism, 369-380; point of view in, 374; problems of technique in, 371f.; unprofitable, 369f. Cromwell, Oliver, 229 Crothers, Samuel McChord, 128, 129, 130, 131 Culture and Anarchy, 20 Cunliffe, Poems of the Great War, 19 "Cultivated Man, The," 9 Dactyl, 399 Darmsteter, James, The Life of Words, 265 Dash, 86, 452f. "Daunt Diana, The," 305 David Copperfield, 157 "Death of Arthur, The," 407 Declaration of Independence, 233 Deductive reasoning, 237-240; er- rors in, 238f.; hints for, 239 Definition, 189, 194-197; accurate, 196; close, 195 Demonstrative, repetition of, 472 Description, 159-188; aim, 159; art of, 161; of action and move- ment, 185; combined with narra- tion, 185-188; conditions of, 161f.; danger of inexperienced writer, 170; details, choice of, 166ff.; general impression, 174-178; gen- eralized, 190; generalized descrip- tion and narration, 206f.; plan, 182-185; point of view, 170-173; root of trouble, 171; sense appeal, 159-163; test of, 160; unifying principle in, 174; use of, 159 Des Moines Register and Leader, 301 Development, of paragraph, 124; of short story, 305-313 Dialogue, 322ff.; materials for, 324; in play, 332; secret of good, 322 Diana of the Crossways, 157 Dickens, Charles, 139, 141, 155-157, 373 Dickinson, J. Lowes, 103-105 Dictionary, 30-34; methods of pre- senting information, 33; rules for use of, 31-34 Dictionary of National Biography, 232 Dimeter, 401 Discrimination, exercises in, 487ff. Division, 191, 198ff.; process of, 198; satisfactory, 199 Dolly Dialogues, 324 Domesday Book, 233 Don Quixote, 373 Drama, 329; acts of, 329 Drinkwater, John, 19 Drummond, Henry, 243 Dryden, John, 399 Dunsany, Lord, 333f. East Lynne, 245, 369 Economy, in sentence, 264 Editorials, 299; length of, 299 Egoist, The, 157 "Elaborate Elopement, An," 326 Elimination of unsuitable material, 143f.; methods of, 151 Eliot, George (Evans, Mary Ann), 157 Elliot, Charles William, 9 Ellipses, 453 Elliptical sentence, 5, 322; sub- ordinate clause, 468 "El Ombu," 305 Emma, 142 Emphasis, secured by comma, 71; placing of phrase for, 92 INDEX 501 Encyclopaedia Britannica, 232, 233 English, on speaking, 442-445; suggestions for improvement in, 443 English Prose and Poetry, 265, 406f. English Review, 63 ' Enunciation, 15f. Erehwon, 271, 366 Errors, causes of, 227; in deductive reasoning, 238f.; in inductive rea- soning, 235f. Essay, 335-366; art of writing, 350; character, methods of writing, 354f.; informal, 350f. Essential modifiers, 86ff.; placing of, 92; distinguish between non- essential and, 88 Essentials of good narration, 145 Euphony, 107f.; and rhythm, 107f.; rule for combining, 107 Evidence, 222-226; circumstantial, 224, 229; direct, 223; indirect, 224, 229; tested, 228 Exclamation mark, 44, 68, 80, 447 Exclamatory sentence, use of, 98 Exemplification, conditions of, 202f.; kinds of, 202f. Exercises, in discrimination, 487ff.; in the short story, 326 Exposition, 189-221; by amplifica- tion, illustrated, 190; by ampli- fication, 204; by cause and effect, 192, 208-212; by character draw- ing, 213-217; by characterization, 193; by comparison and contrast, 192; by definition, 189, 194-197; by generalized description, 190; by generalized description and narration, 206f.; by division, 191, 198-201; by enumeration of qual- ities, 192; by example, 192; by exemplification, 202f.; fundamen- tals of, 194; by paraphrase, 204f. Expression, art of, can be learned, 3 Fabre, Henri, 163 Faerie Queene, The, 407 Fall, 330 "Fall of the House of Usher, The," 141 Feature story, 289 Fiction, defined, 153 Fifes and Drums, 19 "Fifty Fathoms Down," 305, 321 Figures, in compound sentences, 77; in effective phrasing, 263; use of, 263 Fire Bring cr, The, 19 Firth, J. B., 29 Five Plays, 333 "Follow-up" stories, 296 Foot, in verse, 398ff. Footnotes, 413; abbreviations in, 442 Form, good, 37-49; confidence and ease how gained, 37; essential, 386; main features of, 39; value of, 37 Formal argument, 249-253; body of, 249ff.; brief, 25 If.; conclusion, 249ff.; introduction, 249ff.; refuta- tion, 253 Formal report, 344 Forum, The, 63 Franklin, Benjamin, 233, 278f . Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins, 305, 313, 320, 322 French Revolution, The, 233 "From the Main Top," 305 Fuller, Henry, 367 Fulleylove, John, Oxford, 29 Galsworthy, John, 67, 176-178, 181f., 323, 332-334, 445 Gaskell, Mrs. E. C. S., 141 "Gate of a Hundred Sorrows, The," 326 "Geraniums," 19 Gerould, Katherine Fullerton, 305, 813, 320 Gerund, 468 Gibson, Wilfred, W., 19 Gisze, picture, 221 "Gold Bug, The," 141, 305 Good Housekeeping, 348 502 INDEX Grammar, 44ff.; brought to life, 46; practical, 45; review, 455-459; review, questions in, 455ff . ; theory of, 45; a theoretical system, 44; reviewed under two aspects, 44 Green, J. R., History of the English People, 146, 151 Green Mansions, 271 Greenough and Kittredge, Words and their Ways, 265 Guide, The Reader's, 232 Gulliver's Travels, 141, 269f. Hague Conventions, 233 "Half-past Ten," 326 Hankin, St. John, 445 Hardy, Thomas, 74, 139, 157, 169, 179, 261, 369 Harper's Magazine, 63, 354 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 141 Hearne, Lafcadio, 184, 347 "Heart of Darkness," 305, 363 Heart of Midlothian, 157 "Heart of Youth," 326 Henry, O. (Porter, Sidney B.), 87f., 141, 215, 219ff., 263, 305f.. 322, 324, 326 Henry Esmond, 157 Heptameter, 401 Heroic couplet, 401 Heron, Cicely, 361f. Herrick, Robert, 305, 378, 379 Hewlett, Maurice, 267 Hexameter, 401 Historical sketch, 361 History of the American Common- wealth, 146 History of England, 233 History of the English People, 146, 151 History of English Literature, 233 Holbien, Hans, 218, 221, 361 "Horseman in the Sky, A," 305, 323 House of the Seven Gables, The, 141 "How Fear Came," 188 Howells, W. D., 67, 313 Hudson, W. H., 62f., 67, 135, 136f., 163, 182, 271, 305, 353, 363 Human nature, studies in, 354ff. Humble Romance, A, 305 Huxley, Thomas H., 233 Hyphen, 439ff. Iambic foot, 398 "Ice- Water PI ," 326 Idioms, 482 Illiteracy, national, 45f. Imagination, 268-273; builds upon fact, 271; constructive work, 271; how cultivated, 269; facts about, not understood, 268; reading with, 7 Imaginative writing, law in, 269 Indention, 48, 121 Independent, The, 339 Independent elements, 68 Index, 24; special, 23; volume, 23 Index, Pooles, 232 Indirect method in character draw- ing, 214 Inference, drawing of, 233f.; differ- ence between fact and, 234 Infinitive, 469; sign of, 469; split, 469; tense of, 469 Information, reading for, 25f . Informative article, 335, 340-350; conditions of success in, 340 Intellectual treasury enriched, 21 Interjections, 68, 447, 448 Interpretation, 217f.; of class, 355; important points in, 217f.; revela- tion of personality, 217 Intonation, 15f.; associated with character, 16 Introduction, 247, 249ff.; formal argument, 249ff.; play, 329 Irving, Washington, 305 Italics, 40, 422, 428ff. Invitation, formal, 389f., 417.; acceptance, 417; declination, 418 Jacks, L. P., 125-128, 130 Jacobs, W. W., 305, 315, 322 INDEX 503 James, Henry, 67, 155, 313 Jefferies, Richard, 106, 109, 168f., 176, 218, 351. 352, 353 Jespersen, O., Structure and Growth of the English Language, 265 Jewett, Sarah Orne, 305, 312, 322 John Silence, 305 Jonson, Ben, 375f. Journal of Political Economy, 232 Journalism, force in life, 278 Julius Ca>sar, 366 Jungle Books, The, 188 " Kaa's Hunting," 188 Keats, John, 376, 402, 407 Kenilworth, 157 Kensington Rune Stone, 382 "Kerfol," 305 Kidnapped, 139 Kipling, Rudyard, 9, 10, 11, 13, 67, 78, 81, 90, 98, 115, 138f., 141, 149, 163, 186ff ., 188, 204, 262, 267, 305, 321, 322 Kittredge and Greenough, Words and their Ways, 265 Knowledge, securing special, 342 "Lady of the Land, The," 407 "Lady or the Tiger, The," 325 "Lake Isle of Innisfree, The," 19 Lamb, Charles, 350, 351, 364, 388 Language, what people make it, 46 Lanier, Sidney, 19, 402 Lead, 286 "Legend, The," 305 Letters, 386-396, 415-419; busi- ness, 390-397, 418f.; constructive business, 394ff.; form, 393f.; formal, 417; official, 393f.; per- sonal, 386-390, 415ff.; routine, 390-393; rules for, 415-419; rules for answering, 389; rules for busi- ness, 418f.; rule for formal, 417f.; rules for personal, 415ff.; style of, 396; subjects for personal, 387; types of, 393 Letter writing, 386-396; art worth cultivating, 388; when formality unnecessary, 387; rules for success in, 386 "Letting in the Jungle," 188 Letts, Winifred M., 17f. Library, 20-29; getting at resources of, 23; use of, 20-29; notes, 420ff. "Life" 326 Life of the Spider, 163 Life of Words, 265 Littel's Living Age, 354, 363 Little Dorrit, 157 "Little Souls," 326 "Little Speck in Garnered Fruit, A," 326 Lodge, Sir Oliver, 233 "Lodging for the Night, A," 139, 305 Loose sentence, 99 Lord Jim, 157 Lorna Doone, 141 "Louisa," 305 Lowell, James Russell, 402 Lucas, E. V., 81f. "Lycidas," 408 Macaulay, Lord, 99, 233 Mackenzie, Compton, 29, 74, 89, 171f., 183 Magazine Subject Index, Annual, 232 Magna Charta, 233 "Making Port," 326 Malory, Sir Thomas, 90 Man of Property, A, 178 Mandeville, Sir John de, 149 "Man Who Could Work Miracles, The," 305 "Man Who Understood Women, The," 305 "Man Who Was, The," 141, 305 "Man Who Would be King, The," 141 Manly, J. M., 265, 406f. Manuscript, rules for, 412ff . Marble Faun, The, 141 Margins, 414f. Marjorie Daw, 325 "Markheim," 305 504 INDEX "Mary's Wedding," 333 Masefield, John, 4, 19, 76 Master of the Sun, The, 305 Material, choice of, 5,340; choice conditioned, 5; how to get, 6; how organize, 338; how recognize at a glance, 28; for short story. 303 "Matter of Mean Elevation, A," 326 Maupassant, G. de, 141, 305, 306; 307-313, 314, 317, 322, 334 McElween, John C., 263 Mechanical features of writing, rule for, 39 Meredith, George, 67, 155, 273 Merim'e, Prosper, 141 Merrick, Leonard, 305 "Merry Men, The," 141, 321 Metaphor, 256f., 263 Meter, 398ff.; names of, 400, 401; stanzaic forms, 401, 407, 408, 409 Metonomy, 256f., 263 "Middle Toe of the Right Foot, The," 305 Middlemarch, 157 Mill on the Floss, The, 157 Milton, John, 364, 370, 371, 373 Minneapolis Journal, 300 Minstrelsy of Isis, 29 "Miracle of Purun Bhagat, The," 141, 188 Models, conditions in use of, 279f.; intelligent use of, 278 Modification, 64-71 Modifiers, 64-71; adjective, 68ff.; adverbial, 68-71; essential, 69f., 86f.; non-essential, 69f., 87, 92; rule for, 64; use of, 66; well chosen, 65 Montague, Lady Mary Wortley, 388 Montaigne, Michel de, 351, 379 Moody, William Vaughan, 19, 402 More, Sir Thomas, 361 Morris, William, 407 Morrison, Arthur, 322 Muir, John, 352f. "Municipal Report, A," 326 Muse in Arms, The, 19 Narration, 142-157; causes of in- effectiveness in, 151; combined with description, 185-188; nar- rative devices, 151; elimination of unsuitable material, 143f.; elim- ination, methods of, 151; essentials of good narrative, 145; limitation of material, 142-146; plot, 153- 157; principle of, 142; processes in, 143; scale of treatment, 147- 150 Nation, The, 63, 339 Natural Law in the Spiritual World, 243 Nature in Doicnland, 163 Nature study, 351-354 "Necklace, The," 141, 305 Negation, adverbs of, 467f. Newcomes, The, 157 New England Nun, A, 305 Newman, H. J. (Cardinal), 116 New Republic, The, 63, 339 Newspaper, the ideal, 282; ideal man, 282 "Newspaper Story, A," 326 Newspaper work, 282-302; ed- itorials, 299f.; feature stories, 289ff.; "follow up" stories, 296f.; general principles, 285ff.; "human interest" stories, 292-296; news, 282f.; new sources of, 283; news stories, 288f.; news stories, body of, 286; news story, lead, 286; news story, rules for, 285ff.; "re- write stories," 296f.; Sunday ed- ition, 298 Neic York Times Current History, 232 New York Times Index, 232 "Night Mail, The," 305 Norris, Frank, 170f, 180 Note, card, 421; informal, 416 Note taking, 25, 420 Notes, class, 422f.; library, 420ff. North American Review, 63 Octave, 408 0/-phrase, 466 INDEX 505 Old Wives' Tale, The, 157 Onomatopoeia, 263 Order, of climax, 104, 125ff., 128; of logical relation, 124; place, 124; time, 124; of sentences in par- agraph, 123ff. Organization, of paragraph, 118,123; of sentence, 57-63; rule for, of sen- tence, 61f.; of thought, 57f. Orgeas and Miradou, 325 Osborn, The Muse in Arms, 19 Other, 470 Ottava rima, 401, 407 Outline, 119f., 335-339; fill in, 123; making an, 343; mechanical points in, 338; model, 337; of short paper, 335-339; suggestions for, 336 Outlines, 119f., 146, 148, 198f., 201, 210, 211, 212 Outlook, The, 63, 339 Oxford, 29 Oxford and Its Colleges, 29 Oxford and Oxford Life, 29 Palmer, G. H., 8 Papers, suggested subjects for term, 384 Paragraph, the, 118-137; develop- ment of, 124-132; external organ- ization, 118ff.; internal organiza- tion, 123-132; length, 121f.; mark, 122; organization of thought, 118; structural devices, 132-137; transition, 152 Paragraphing, conversation, 122; effective, 125 Parallelism, aid to clearness, 103; balanced sentence, type of, 104; basic principle of compound sen- tence, 76; rule for, 103 Paraphrase, 189, 204f.; and am- plification, 204f. Parenthesis, marks of, 454f. Participle, 103, 468; repeated, 103 Paston Letters, 233, 388 Pater, Walter. 265 "Penance," 326 Penmanship, 419 Period, 44, 446 Periodic sentence, 99 Persuasion, 246ff.; aims, 247; au- dience, 247f.; introduction, 247; underlying principle, 246 Persuasion, 157 Petrie, W. M. Flinders, 233 Phrase, adjective, place of, 93; ad- jective, punctuation of series of, 70; choice between, and clause, 94; essential modifier, 92; non- essential modifier, 92; of, 466 Phrases, 90-96, 262f.; adjective, 93; adverbial, 70; to be avoided, 262; close weaving of, 91f.; importance of, 90f.; overworked, 494; placed for emphasis, 92; punctuation of, 95; rule for, 262; transitional, 68 "Piece of String, The," 306, SOT- SIS, 314, 317, 322, 334 "Pit and the Pendulum, The," 261 Pitt-Rivers, A. H. L. F., 233 Plagiarism, 279 Plan, in description, 182-185; in short paper, 335-340 Play, 328-334; Act, one, 331ff.; climax, 330; conclusion, 330; dialogue, in, 332; fall, 330; in- troduction, 329; plot, 329; pur- pose and process, 328; rise of ac- tion, 329; setting, 332; suspense, final, 330 "Pleasing Everybody," 326 Plot, 153-157, 306, 313; comedy, 156; complication, 313; essence of, 154; suspense in, 156; tragic, 156; unification of, 306 Poe, Edgar Allan, 141, 261, 305, 402 Point of view, 170-173, 314f.; deter- mined by material, 315 Pooles Index, 232 Pope, Alexander, 401 Possessive case, 466 Predicate, 53ff.; complement, 55, 463; verb, 54 500 INDEX Predication, 53-56, 459 Premise, 237f. Preposition repeated, 103 Prepositions, 474 Pride and Prejudice, 157, 373 Process and purpose, distinguished, 138ff. Pronoun, appositive, 464; near an- tecedent, 101; antecedent un- mistakable, 102; antecedent def- initely expressed, 102; case, 463; in clauses, 464f.; demonstrative, 134; indefinite, 463; number, 462; object, 464; personal, 134; prin- ciple underlying proper use of, 101 ; relative, 83, 134; relative omission of, 465; relative, for subordina- tion, 83; shifting of, 465 Pronunciation, 442-445; errors in, 443; list of flagrant errors in, 444 Propaganda paper or speech, 335- 365; argument, 365 Prose, 277 Punctuation, 67-95, 445-455; of blended adjective modifiers, 69; of adjectives connected by con- junctions, 70; of adjective mod- ifiers, essential, 69; of adjective modifiers, non-essential, 69, 87; of adjective phrases, series of, 70; of adverbial clauses, non-essential, 87; of adverbial phrases, essential, 70; of adverbial phrases, non- essential, 70; of adverbial phrases, series of, 71 ; of adverbs qualifying predication, 68; adverbs, series of, 71; of appositive, 69, 86; inter- jection, 68, 447f.; marks, end, 76; marks, interior, 76; marks, va- riable and invariable, 44f.; origin of errors in, 67; of phrases, dis- tributed, 945; of phrases movable, 95; of phrases, transitional, 68; printer's device, 43; of sentence, 67-95; of simple sentence, 71 "Purloined Letter, The," 305 Purpose and process, distinguished, 138ff. Pygmalion, 258 Quatrain, 409 Questions, direct, indirect, and rhetorical, punctuation of, 44, 80, 446f. Quotation marks, uses of, 44. 102, 135, 279, 453f. Quoting, for indebtedness, 279; in notes, 421 Radiation, of words, 258 Read, how to, 6ff. Readers Guide, The, 23, 29, 232, 364, 366 Reading, 4-8; aloud, 11-19, 107; aloud, difficulties in, mechanical, 13f.; aloud, difficulties over-come, 14; aloud, rhythm discovered by, 12; aloud, tone color and rhythm realized by, 11; aloud, test of quality in writing, 12; browsing process in, 27; how long continued, 29; with imagination, 7; for information, 25f.; for par- ticular fact, 26; perfect, 25; by phrases, 27; vicarious living, 7; vitalized, 7 Reasoning, 233-246; by analogy, 243f.; deduction, 237-240; hints for, 239; errors in, 235, 238f.; in- ductive, 233-236; inductive and deductive, 24 Iff.; processes, 234 Reference, words, 134 References, forms of, 414 Refutation, 253 Relation, order by, 124 Relationship, expressed by clause or phrase, 94 Relative, adverb, 83; pronoun, 134; omission of relative, 465; pro- noun for subordination, 83 Repetition, 97f.; for clearness, 472; principles of, 34f . Report, formal, 344 INDEX 507 Research, 381-385; argument in, 381 ; attitude in, 381 ; bibliography. 382; presentation of proofs, 383f.; principal stages, 381 "Revolt of 'Mother,' The," 305, 326 "Rewrite" and "Follow-up" stories, 296 Rhyme royale, 401. 407 Rickert, Edith, 184 Riders to the Sea, 333 "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," 138 "Rip Van Winkle," 305 Roberts, C. G. D., 354 Robertson, Morgan, 305, 321 Robinson Crusoe, 126f., 141 Rosalind, 325 Rossetti, Christina, 409 Ruskin, John, 12, 265 Said, use of, 324 Saturday Evening Post, The, 339 Scale of Treatment, how determined, 147; use of outlines, 148; use of abstracts, 150 Scott, Sir Walter, 155, 157. 401. 402, 403 Scottish Chiefs, 373 Scribner's Magazine, 63, 354 Seeger, Alan, 19 Self-Cultivation in English, 8 Semicolon, uses of, 80, 448 Sense appeal in description, 159 Sentence, art of constructing, 112; clearness, 100-105; compactness, 96-100; compound elements, 72; content, 60; economy, 264; eu- phony and rhythm, 107; function, 53; life of, 55; modification of, 64; organization of, 57-63; predica- tion, 53; subject of, 53; unity, how secured, 57, 58. See also Balanced Sentence, Complex, Compound, Compound-Complex, Elliptical, Ex- clamatory, Loose, Periodic, Simple, Topic, Well-built Sentence faults, 459ff . Sentence length, 60; determined by emphasis, 60f.; by relief, 61; by rhythm, 61 Sentences for correction, 475ff. Sentimental Tommie, 259 Sequence of facts, assimilation of, 27 Series, punctuation, of, 72f., 449 Sestet, 408 Setting, in fiction, 320; rule in short story, 321 Shadow of the Glen, The, 333 Shakespeare, William, 232, 245, 366. 409. 410 Sharp, D. L., 354 Shaw, George Bernard, 258, 279, 332. 334, 369, 445 Shelley, P. B., 407 Shall and will, summary of rules, 458f. "Ship that Found Herself, The," 321 Short story, beginning, 305; char- acters, 316; characteristics and sources, 303; development, 305; dialogue, 322; materials, 303; point of view, 314; setting, 320f.; sources of plots, 304; titles, 325 Short paper, plan of, 335; varieties of, 335, 340, 350, 351, 357-362 Silas Marner, 157 "Silent Infare, The," 325 Silver Box, The, 332 Simile, 263 Simple sentence, 56 "Sir Patrick Spence," 404ff. "Sire de Maletroit's Door, The," 139, 305 So, 471 So-type of sentence, 84f. " Sociology in Serge and Straw," 326 Soldiers Three, 204 Sonnet, 401, 408 Spectator, The, 351, 354 Speech, improvement of, 14ff., 442- 445 Spelling, can be learned, 40; de- pends on observation, 41; exer- cises, 434-438; general rules, 431- 434; methods of learning, 41-42 508 INDEX Spelling out and abbreviation, 442 Spenser, Edmund, 407 Spenserian stanza, 401, 407, 408 "Spires of Oxford, The," 17f. "Spring Running, The," 188 Stanza forms, 407 Statesman's Year Book, 232 Steele, Sir Richard, 350, 388 Stevenson, Robert Louis, 13, 64, 67, 72. 74, 77, 79, 88, 89, 91. 98. 99. 108, 110, 116, 134, 139, 141, 157, 264, 267, 279, 305, 314. 321, 325, 350, 351, 387f. Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The, 325 Strickland, Agnes, 146 "Strictly Business," 326 Structural devices, 132; purpose of, 132 Structure and Growth of the English Language, 265 Stubbs, William, 146 Subject, finding and forming, 381ff. Subject of sentence, 53 Subject and predicate, 460ff. Subjects for term papers, 384 Subordinate clauses, arrangement, 88; functions, 86; number, 85; punctuation, 71, 86 Subordination, methods of, 83f. Substantive clause, in apposition, punctuation of, 86 "Suicides in the Rue Sombre, The," 305 "Suite Homes and Their Ro- mances," 326 Sunday editions, 298 "Supers," 326 Suspense, in plot, 156; result of def- inite devices, 155 Swift, Jonathan, 141, 269f. Swinburne, A. C., 12, 399 Syllogism, 237f.; value of, 240 Synecdoche, 256f. Synge, J. M., 324, 333, 334 Synonyms, as structural device, 136 Taine, H. A., 30, 233 Tale of Two Cities, A. 141, 373 Toiler, The, 351, 354 "T. B.," 326 "Tell-Tale Heart, The," 141 Tennyson, Alfred Lord, 245, 398, 399, 400 Tense agreement, 460 Tess of the Z>' Urbervilles, 157 Thackeray, W. M., 141, 155, 157 That, 471 That and which, 466 Theme, use of, 3 "Theory and the Hound, The," 141, 326 "They," 141, 305, 326 Thomas, Edward, Oxford, 29 Thompson, A. H., Cambridge and Its Colleges, 29 Thought relations between sen- tences, methods of indicating, 132ff. Through the Looking-Glass, 269 "Time Machine, The," 305 Time order, as basis of narrative, 1 24 Tolstoi, Count L., 157 Tone-color, 11 "Toomai of the Elephants," 139, 186ff. Topic sentence, 123; position of, 124 "Tragedy of a Comic Song, The," 326 Tragic plot, 156 Traill, H. D., Social England, 146 Transition methods, 152 Transitional words, phrases, and clauses, punctuation of, 68 Treasure Island, 141, 157 Troilus and Cressida, 407 Twelve Pound Look, The, 325 Two sides, in argument, 223 Types of writing, fundamental dis- tinctions, 277 Under the Greenwood Tree, 139, 157, 169, 179, 261 "Unfinished Story, An," 305 INDEX 500 UniBcation of plot, 306 Unifying principle, in description, 174 Unity, of sentence, how to secure, 58ff. Unpopular Review, The, 63, 339 Usage, books on, 48 Vanity Fair, 141, 157 "Venus of Hie, The," 141 Verb, nature and functions, 54 Verbs, List of Troublesome, 457f. Verbs, series of, punctuation, 72ff. Verse, 277, 398ff.; method of quot- ing, 415 Verse, Uank, 400 Vocatives, punctuation of, 68, 448 Voice, 460 Voice production, 15f. Walpole, Horace, 388 Walton, Isaac, 379 War and Peace, 157 Washington, George, Letters of, 233 "Weaver Who Clad the Summer, The," 326 Well-built sentence, 96, 107 Wells, H. G., 5, 67, 217, 367, 368 Wells, J., Oxford and Its Colleges, 26 Wharton, Mrs. Edith, 216, 217, 305, 313 Wheeler, Fifes and Drums, 19 "While the Auto Waits," 326 Whitaker's Almanac, 432 Whittier, John Greenleaf, 402 Who's Who, 232 Who's Who in America, 232 "Whose Dog ?" 326 Wilkins-Freeman, Mary E., 319 "Wireless," 305 Word lists: differences in meaning, 487; spelling lists, 435-438 Words and Their Ways, 265 Words, birth of, 255; change and growth of, 256; history of, 258; importance of, 259; mastery of, 31; processes of growth, 258; sources for writer, 259; stimula- tive power, 260; transitional, 68; values of, 255; variation in values, 259; vital force of, 30 Wordsworth, William, 377-379, 400 World Almanac, 232 Writing, art of, 48; fundamental purpose, 138; good form, 412-420; initial problem, 4f.; purpose and process, distinguished, 138; read- ing and, 3 Xingu, 305, 326 Year Book, Stateman's, 232 "Years, The," 305 Yeats, W. B., 19 Youth, 305, 363 Youth's Encounter, 29 IBRARY FACIL1TJ A 000033788 1