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Edu^T li'f'O^'lJd

Harvard CoUege
Library

By Exchange

3 2044 102 771 383

PARAGRAPH-WRITING

A RHETORIC FOR COLLEGES

FRED NEWTON SCOTT

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
AND

JOSEPH VILLIERS DENNEY

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY

REWRITTEN AND MUCH ENLARGED

ALLYN AND BACON
ISoston anlr Cfiicago

PREFACE.

Thb idea which underlies this work and which has given
to it its distinctive place and character was thus set forth
in the preface to the first edition : —

Learning to write well in one's own language means in
large part learning to give unity and coherence to one's
ideas. It means learning to construct units of discourse
which have order and symmetry and coherence of parts.
It means learning theoretically how such units are made,
and practically how to put them together ; and further, if
they turn out badly the first time, how to take them apart
and put them together again in another and better order.
The making and re-making of such units is in general
terms the task of all who produce written discourse.

The task of the teacher of those who produce written
discourse, it follows, is in great part setting students to
construct such units, explaining the principles upon which
the units are made, arousing a sense that they are units
and not mere heaps or nebulous masses, and Qwc opus^
hie labor est) correcting departures from unity, order, and
coherence when such departures occur.

Work of this kind on the part of writer or of teacher
presupposes a unit of discourse. Of these units there are
three, — the sentence, the paragraph, and the essay or
whole composition. Which of these three is best adapted,
psychologically and pedagogical ly, to the end proposed?
The sentence may be rejected at the outset as at once too
simple and too fragmentary. . . . Moreover, as Professor

iii

IV PREFACE.

Barrett Wendell has pointed out {English Composition^
p. 117), the sentence is properly a subject of revision, not
of prevision, — good sentences are produced by criticising
them after they are written rather than by planning them
beforehand. Putting the sentence aside, then, what shall
be said of the paragraph and the essay ? Of the two the
essay is theoretically the more proper unit of discourse.
But is it always so in practic(9? Is it not true that for
students at a certain stage of their progress the essay is too
complex and too cumbersome to be appreciated as a whole ?
Aristotle long ago laid down the psychological principle
which should govern the selection of a structural unit:
" As for the limit fixt by the nature of the case, the great-
est consistent with simultaneous comprehension is always
the best." If students who have written essays for years
have with all their labor developed but a feeble sense for
structural unity, may the reason not lie in the fact that the
unit of discourse employed has been so large and so com-
plex that it could not be grasped with a single effort of
the mind ?

If there is a measure of truth in what has here been
urged, it would appear that for certain periods in the stu-
dent's development the paragraph, as an example of struc-
tural unity, offers peculiar advantages. The nature of these
advantages has already been suggested. They are, in brief,
as follows : The paragraph, being in its method practically
identical with the essay, exemplifies identical principles of
structure. It exemplifies these principles in small and
convenient compass so that they are easily appreciable by
the beginner. Further, while the writing of the paragraph
exercises the student in the same elements of structure
which would be brought to his attention were he drilled in
the writing of essays, he can write more paragraphs than
he can write essays in the same length of time; hence the
character of the work may be made for him more varied,

PREFACE. V

progressive, and interesting. If the paragraph thus suits
the needs of the student, it has even greater advantages
from the point of view of the teacher. The bugbear of the
teacher of Ehetoric is the correcting of essays. When
the compositions are long and crude and errors abound,
the burden sometimes becomes almost intolerable. In
many cases it is a necessary burden and must be borne
with patience, but this is not always so. Since the student
within the limits of the paragraph makes the same errors
which he commits in the writing of longer compositions,
in the greater part of the course the written work may
' profitably be shortened from essays to paragraphs. Para-
graph-writing has the further advantage that, if necessary,
the composition may be re-wfitten from beginning to end,
and, most important of all, when completed is not too long for
the teacher to read and criticise in the presence of the class.
Finally, the paragraph furnishes a natural introduction
to work of a more difficult character. When the time
comes for the writing of essays, the transition from the
smaller unit to its larger analogue is made with facility.

To this fundamental idea the authors in the work of
revision and enlargement have chosen to adhere, being
convinced both of its theoretical soundness and its practical
utility. In adapting the work, however, to the present needs
of college and university classes, they have made so many
modifications in general plan and in detail that the result
is virtually a new book. Among the changes and additions
which will be of special interest to teachers may be men-
tioned the following : —

1. The scope of the theoretical part has been extended
to embrace all pure types of compositions. In accordance
with this plan, the book opens with a discussion of the
Art of Composition and the Organic Structure of Discourse,
after which the two leading structural forms, the Para-

VI PREFACE.

graph and the Whole Composition, are taken up in turn.
This order makes possible a treatment at once more inclu-
sive and more logical than that of previous editions.

2. The types of composition, so called, that is, descrip-
tion, narrative, exposition, and argument, are treated at a
length and with a thoroughness more nearly corresponding
to their present importance in college and university classes.

3. The assignments have been removed from the text,
where they are an encumbrance to the university student,
and placed in a division by themselves. This arrangement
permits the continuity of the text to appear more plainly,
and at the same time gives space for a greatly extended
series of progressive exercises offering a wide choice to
instructor and student. It Is believed that many of the
assignments that have been added are novel both in method
and in subject-matter, and that all of them tend to keep
the student in the right attitude towards his work.

4. The illustrative matter of former editions, from long
use somewhat too familiar to both teacher and student, has
been replaced by fresh materials from a great variety of
sources, all of them worthy and thought-compelling. In
amount the material for illustration, study, and practice
has been more than doubled.

5. The authors have endeavored to avoid the fault —
perhaps more common in text-books on Composition than
in those on other subjects — of unnecessarily "affirming
the obvious." Nothing of theory has been admitted which
the diligent student cannot make his own by a reasonable
amount of practice. With these ends in view, the authors
have taken the advice of experienced instructors who have
used the book, both on questions of curtailment and of expan-
sion. To all who have been so kind as to offer suggestions,
the authors wish to make here a general acknowledgment
of obligation.

Sbptembeb, 1909.

CONTENTS.

PAET I. THE PARAGBAPH.

A. The Art of Composition 1

I. Composition an Art 1

11. Organic Structure a 'Characteristic of Art . , 2

B. Nature and Laws of the Paragraph 5

L The Paragraph a Sign of Organic Structure . . 5

II. Two Ways of Studying Paragi^aphs ... 8

in. General Laws of the Paragraph .... 10

1. Unity 10

2. Selection 13

3. Proportion 18

4. Sequence 22

5. Variety 24

C. The Isolated Paragraph 27

I. Paragraph Subject . 27

n. The Topic-Statement 28

1. Place of Topic-Statement 29

2. Topic-Statement Implied 32

vii

Vlll

CONTENTS.

III.

IV.

Means of Developing the Paragraph-Theme .

1. Development by Particulars and Details .

2. Development by Definitive Statements

3. Development by Comparison and Illustration

4. Development by Specific Instances or Examples

5. Development by Presenting Reasons

6. Development by Applying a Principle

7. Development by Stating Causes and Effects

8. Introductory, Transitional, and Sumniarizin

Sentences

Effect on Sentence Structure

1. Inversion .

2. Parallel Construction

3. Repetition .

4. Subordination .

5. Punctuation

Types of Paragraph Structure
1. Expository and Argumentative

The Logical Type .
Deductive
Inductive .

The Less Formal Types
Paragraphs of Definition
Paragraphs of Specific Instances
Paragraphs of Illustration
Paragraphs of Causes and Results
Descriptive and Narrative Paragraphs

Paragraphs of Incident .

Descriptive Sketches

Portrait Sketches ....

Character Sketches . *

42-^

49
50
51
53
54
56

62*"'

64 I

CONTENTB. a.

PART II. WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

PAOB

A. Special Forms of Related Paragraphs ... 88

I. Introductory and Concluding Paragraphs . . 83

n. Transitional and Directive Paragraphs ... 88

III. Amplifying Paragraphs 89

B. Types of TVhole Composition 91

I. Description 92

1. Methods in Description 94

Purpose 95

Point of View 96

Outline 99

Selection of Details 101

Sequence and Grouping .... 102

2. Helps to Description 105

3. Kinds of Description 106

n. Narration 112

1. Simple Narrative 113

Requisites of Simple Narrative . . . 113

Unity 113

Sequence 114

Climax 116

The Elements of Simple Narrative . .117

2. Complex Narrative 119

The Elements of Complex Narrative . . 121
The Obstacle . . . . * . .121

The Plot 122

Characters 127

Suspense 129

3. Helps to Narration •••,,, 130

X CONTENTS.

m. Exposition .133

1. The Nature of Exposition 133

2. The Characteristics of Exposition . . . 135
8. The Process of Exposition — Analysis . . 137

Rules for Logical Definition . . • 138

Rules for Logical Division .... 141

4. Methods of Exposition 150

5. Kinds of Exposition 159

rV. Argumentation 165 ^

1. Definition of Argumentation .... 165

2. The Proposition 166

3. Analysis 167

4. The Brief 171

5. Liductive Reasoning 174

6. Deductive Reasoning 176

7. A priori Arguments 179

8. A posteriori Arguments 180

9. Arguments from Authority . . . .182

10. Arguments from Example .... 182

11. Methods of Refutation 183 I

PART III. ASSIGNMENTS.

A. The Paragraph 186

B. The "Wliole Composition 233

I. Description 233

n. Narration 246

IIL Exposition 263

IV. Argumentation 295 ^

Appendix A. Selections for Analysis and Criticism.

Isolated Paragraphs 333

Related Paragi*aphs 350

CONTENTS. XI

PAOB

Appendix B. Materials for Special Ezerciflea.

Outlines for Paragraph- Wfriting 373

Classroom Themes 374

Reproductions , . . 377

Paraphrases and Abstracts 380

Rhetorical Analysis 382

Stories 383

Essays, Speeches, Sketches 386

Books for Supplementary Reading 393

Appendix C. A Classified List of Essay Subjects • 400

Appendix D.

Reporting and Editing 421

Proof-reading 421

Appendix E.

General Rules for Capitals 430

General Rules for Punctuation 431

Appendix F.

General Directions for Preparing Themes . . . 433

Marks used in Correcting Themes 435

Appendix G. The Rhetoric of the Paragraph.

Unity 440

Clearness 445

Force 455

Index 465

PART I.

THE PARAGRAPH.

A. THE ART OF COMPOSITION.

1. Composition an Art. — When a person of good judgment
has a new piece of work to do, he considers first of all just
what it is that he is trying to accomplish. Having deter-
mined this clearly, he lays his plans. He decides what
means and materials, what instruments or tools he must
employ in order to bring his work to a satisfactory com-
pletion. He divides it into parts and attempts one part at a
time, subduing each part, as he works at it, to its proper
place and function. As far as possible, also, he tries to
foresee the obstacles that he is likely to encounter, and pre-
pares himself either to avoid them or to meet and overcome
them as they arise. If the thing which he is trying to do
has ever been done before, he takes pains to inform himself
about previous attempts and learns from the errors as well
as from the successes of his predecessors.

This procedure is of universal application. It is true of
making a garden, playing a game, conducting a business,
building a boat, writing a story, or making an argument. In
all of these lines of effort everything depends upon making
plans advisedly, choosing suitable means, working to realize
a purpose. That is what makes, the artist, whatever the
material in which he works. Emerson must have had this
idea in mind when, in his essay on Art, he wrote, "The
conscious utterance of thought by speech or action to any

2 THE PARAGHAPff.

end is Art." He says conscious utterance because art implies
knowing what one is about; he says by speech or action
because the rule is the same for the fine arts as for the
useful arts; it is universal; speech and action include all
manner of human effort. He is careful to add the qualifi-
cation, to any end, because it is purpose that makes speech
and action effective; without purpose they are futile and
meaningless.

Emerson's definition clearly classifies English Composi-
tion among the arts. In English Composition, as in all of
the other arts, success depends upon knowing what one is
about, upon having a conscious purpose expressed in a
theme or central thought, and upon employing suitable
material and methods in order to accomplish the purpose
in mind.

2. Organic Structare a Charaoteristio of Art — Every
piece of work when satisfactorily completed shows design.
In this one characteristic all of the arts, fine or useful, are
alike. The design is apparent in all of the details. The
parts of a picture, or of a piece of music, or of a story, all
have their work to do in realizing the design. If we examine
closely any well-written passage of English prose, we dis-
cover that it is not a haphazard collection of miscellaneous
ideas or observations, but an orderly presentation of thought.
Every sentence does its share of work towards making the
meaning clear. By analyzing such a passage into its con-
stituent parts, we can see just what the work of each part
is. After reading the following passage, for instance, we
are able to say that the one thought embodied in it is
"The Annihilation of an Army."

1. Then the march of the army, without a general, went on
again. 2. Soon it became the story of a general without an army ;
before very long there was neither general nor army. 3. It is
idle to lengthen a tale of mere horrors. 4. The straggling rem-

THE ABT OF COMPOStTlON. 3

nant of an army entered the JugduUuk Pass — a dark, steep,
narrow, ascending path between crags. 5. The miserable toilers
found that the fanatical, implacable tribes had barricaded the pass.
6. All was over. 7. The army of Cabul was finally extinguished
in that barricaded pass. 8. It was a trap ; the British were taken
in it. 9. A few mere fugitives escaped from the scene of actual
slaughter, and were on the road to Jellalabad where Sale and his
little army were holding their own. 10. When they were within
sixteen miles of Jellalabad the number was reduced to six. 11. Of
these six, five were killed by straggling marauders on the way.
12. One man alone reached Jellalabad to tell the tale. 13. Liter-
ally, one man. Dr. Brydon, came to Jellalabad out of a moving
host which had numbered in all some sixteen thousand when it
set out on its march. 14. The curious eye will search through
history or fiction in vain for any picture more thrilling with the
suggestion of an awful catastrophe than that of this solitary sur-
vivor, faint and reeling on his jaded horse, as he appeared under
the walls of Jellalabad, to bear the tidings of our Thermopyle of
pain and shame. — McCarthy: A History of our Oum Times, Yol. L,
p. 199.

The passage divides into the following parts, four in
number : —

1. The story of the march is a tale of horrors. (Sentences

2. The JugduUuk Pass proved to be a trap. (Sentences
4-8.)

3. The few fugitives were reduced to one. (Sentences
9-11.)

4. Dr. Brydon alone reached Jellalabad. (Sentences
12-14.)

In this passage the divisions are stages in the annihila-
tion of the army. Each stage is distinct, and each has its
own work to do in making clear the one thought of the
whole passage.

The following passage also gives evidence of regular
organic structure: —

4 THE PARAGRAPH.

1. The originality of form and treatment which Macaulay gave
to the historical essay has not, perhaps, received due recognition.
Without having invented it, he so greatly improved and expanded
it that he deserves nearly as much credit as if he had. He did for
the historical essay what Haydn did for the sonata, and Watt for
the steam-engine : he found it rudimentary and unimportant, and
left it complete, and a thing of power. 2. Before his time there
was the ponderous history, generally in quarto, and there was the
antiquarian dissertation. There was also the historical review,
containing alternate pages of extract and comment, generally dull
and gritty. But the historical essay, as he conceived it, and with
the prompt inspiration of a real discoverer immediately put into
practical shape, was as good as unknown before him. 3. To take a
bright period or personage of history, to frame it in a firm outline,
to conceive it at once in article size, and then to fill in this limited
canvas with sparkling anecdote, telling bits of color, and facts all
fused together by a real genius for narrative, was the sort of genre-*
painting which Macaulay applied to history. 4. And to this day
his essays remain the best of their class, not only in England, but in
Europe. Slight, or even trivial, in the field of historical erudition
and critical inquiry, they are masterpieces if regarded in the light
of great popular cartoons on subjects taken from modern hi5»^ory.
They are painted, indeed, with such freedom, vividness, and power
that they may be said to enjoy a sort of tacit monopoly of the peri-
ods and characters to which they refer, in the estimation of the
general public. — J. Cotter Morison.

Analysis by thought-divisions : —

1. Macaulay gave to the historical essay originalily of form and

treatment.
(a) He did not invent it, but
(6) He improved it greatly. (Parallel cases — Haydn and

Watt.)
(c) He found it rudimentary and left it complete.

2. Forms of historical writing, before Macaulay.

(a) The ponderous history.

(b) The dissertation.

LAWS OF THE PAnAGHAPH. 6

3. In what consisted Macaulay's originality of treatment.

(a) Selection of effective points and periods and telling per-
sonages.

(6) Framing the selected period or personage in firm out-
line — Unity.

4. His essays the best of their class.

(a) Others surpass them in erudition and critical research,

but
(6) They are masterpieces if judged as specimens of broad,

popular treatment.
(c) They have a monopoly • of the periods and characters

treated by them.

B. NATURE AND LAWS OF THE PARAGRAPH.

3. The Paragraph a Sign of Organic Stmctore. — A pas-
sage like the foregoing is called a paragraph. From our
consideration of its form and function thus far, we may
deduce the following definition : —

A paragraph is a unit of discourse developing a single idea.
It consists of a group or series of sentences closely related to
one another and to the thought expressed by the whole group or
series. Devoted^ like the sentence, to the development of one
topic, a good paragraph is also, like a good essay, a complete
treatment in itself.

The following paragraphs illustrate this close relation of
sentences : —

I willingly concede all that you say against fashionable society
as a whole. It is, as you say, frivolous, bent on ajnnsement,
incapable of attention sufficiently prolonged to grasp any serious
subject, and liable both to confusion and inaccuracy in the ideas
which it hastily forms or easily receives. You do right, assuredly,
not to let it waste your most valuable hours, but I believe also that
you do wrong in keeping out of it altogether.

The society which seems so frivolous in masses contains indi-

6 TEE PARAOBAPH.

vidual members who, if you knew them better, would be able and
willing to render you the most efficient intellectual help, and you
miss this help by restricting yourself exclusively to books. Nothing
can replace the conversation of living men and women ; not even
the richest literature can replace it. — Hamerton : The Intellectual
Life, Part IX., Letter V.

The topic treated by the first of these paragraphs is
"Society is frivolous as a whole"; that treated by the
second is "But society contains individuals whose conver-
sation is highly profitable." These paragraphs are closely
related, but each represents a distinct phase of the thought.
In this way, the successive paragi-aphs of an essay treat in
turn the topics into which the essay naturally divides itself.
If the subject requires only a brief treatment and includes
but two or three topics, a single paragraph will suffice for
each. Of a more extensive production, involving topics and
subtopics, each subtopic may require a separate paragraph
for its adequate treatment. The paragraphs thus indicate
the organic structure of the whole composition, while each
paragraph singly has its own organic structure also. Thus
in the following essay by Sir Walter Besant on the London
Mob, the first paragraph describes the close relation of the
master and workman prior to the eighteenth century ; the
second tells how with the separation of companies and
craftsmen the London mob came into existence; the third
presents the condition and temper of the working men at the
close of the last century ; the fourth explains why the mob
did not gain the upper hand.

1. The eighteenth century was remarkable, among other things,
for the complete separation of master and workman. When the
companies received their charters and the crafts were organized,
the burden of the work might be heavy, but the masters and the
workmen were united ; they belonged to the same company, which
looked after the interests of the craft, and cared for every man in
it. The company educated the boy, apprenticed him, received him

LAWS OF THE PABAGBAPU. 7

into its body when he had served his time, made him obey the
rules, made him go to church, perhaps started him in business on
his own account, cared for him if he fell sick or was disabled, cared
for his children if he died, pensioned him when he was old, buried
him and had masses said for his soul. All through life he was the
servant of the company ; he lived and worked under a discipline
which was sometimes severe but generally wholesome.

2. But London pressed beyond the walls, and with the expan-
sion of London, in Whitechapel, Wapping, Ratcliffe, or Clerken-
well, the companies lost their hold upon the craftsmen; they
ceased to enroll the craftsmen in their societies; between the mer-
chant and the craftsmen there was no longer the bond of common
interests and common obedience. In a word, the London mob
grew up, apart and separate, unheeded, until it became a frightful
danger, terrible in its ignorance, its drunkenness, its brutality, and
its freedom from all restraint of morality and religion. How they
lived, how they wallowed — this mass of humanity uncared for —
must be learned bit by bit, for they have no historian. No one
cared for them; not the Church, for they were outside the city
parishes — besides, the eighteenth century clergyman of the Estab-
lished Church was a preacher, not a visitor of the poor ; the church
stood open for its daily services if any chose to appear ; if they did
not appear, so much the worse for them. Of schools there were
next to none; no gentlefolk lived among this class of people;
neither restraining nor elevating influences existed at all for them.

3. The lowest depth ever touched by the lowest class of a modern
city seems to have been reached by the London mob about the end
of the last century. Looking back upon that time, remembering,
among other things, the constant demand for sailors and soldiers,
which devoured the best youth of the country, one asks in admira-
tion how government was carried on at all. For the whole of the
great class who did the work — in the towns at least — were filled
with hatred of the governing class. As for any share or voice in
the government, they had none. There was danger if the people
got any education, for they w^ould then become agitators and
leaders ; there was danger if they remained ignorant, because an
ignorant people is liable to sudden storms. One touch of elo-
quence — one little unimportant event — and lo ! a Jacquerie. The

8 THE PARAGRAPH.

mutiny of Spithead and the Nore showed the dangers of combined
action; the Gordon riots showed the danger of an accidental
flame.

4. His own position, however — and here was the safety — made
it extremely difficult for the working man to combine ; he had to
work hard every day and all day long, with no respite, or holiday,
except on Sunday: his hours were long; his wages — which did
not pretend to have any relation to his productive value — were
miserable. He was, for all practical purposes, bound to the place
where he was born and where he served his apprenticeship. As a
rule he could not read, or, if he could, there were no journals, or
books, for him ; he drank as much as he could afford to drink ; his
wits were besotted ; he was inarticulate. The Government was an
unseen power which stood beside his master; it flogged, trans-
ported, and hanged people ; these accidents might happen to any-
body. There can be no doubt that the London mob — which was
born late in the seventeenth century, and grew greater, more
dangerous, more temble in its unknown powers every year — was
kept down by two weapons only — these were its own ignorance,
and the strong hand of the executioner. — Besant : The Science of
Sympathy,

4. Two Ways of Studying Paragraphs. — A paragraph
may be studied as a structural part of an essay ; or it may
be isolated from the rest of the essay and be studied by it-
self. In a later chapter we shall study paragraphs in the
first way. In this chapter we shall study each paragraph
as if it were a separate and complete composition in minia-
ture, and shall use the term isolated paragraph to indicate
that fact. A large class of subjects admit of adequate
treatment in single paragraphs; for example, incidents,
brief descriptions, short comments on current events, and
discussions of single phases of political and social questions.
The writing of single paragraphs has become a recognized
feature in editorial work. The following paragraph is taken
from a longer composition, yet it is as adequate a treatment
of its own topic as if it were an independent composition.

LAWS OF THE PARAQBAPB. 9

In England the chief characteristic of the Tory party has been
its support of measures which tend to strengthen the crown and
the aristocracy, and to enlarge and tighten the control exercised
by the community over its individual members. The chief charac-
teristic of the Liberal party has been its support of measures which
tend to weaken the crown and the aristocracy, and to diminish
and relax the control exercised by the community over its indi-
vidual members. In all times and countries there has been such
a division between parties, and in the nature of things it is the
only sound and abiding principle of division. Ephemeral parties
rise and fall over special questions of temporary importance, but
this grand division endureth forever. Wherever there are com-
munities of men, a certain portion of the community is marked
off, in one way or another, to exercise authority over the whole
and perform the various functions of government. The question
always is how much authority shall this governing portion of the
community be allowed to exercise, to how great an extent shall it
be permitted to interfere with private affairs, to take people's
money in the shape of taxes, whether direct or indirect, and in
other ways to curb or restrict the freedom of individuals. All
people agree that government must have some such powers, or else
human society would be resolved into a chaos in which every man's
hand would be raised against every other man. The political
question is as to how much power government shall be permitted
to exercise. Where shall the line be drawn beyond which the
governing body shall not be allowed to go? This has been the
fundamental question among all peoples in all lands, and it is
the various answers to this question that have made all the differ-
ences in the success or the failure of different phases of civilization,
— all the differences between the American citizen and the Asiatic
coolie. We might thus take any nation that has ever existed for
comparison with the United States, but we choose to take England,
because there the will of the people has in all ages been able to
assert itself. In countries where the voice of the people has been
for a long time silenced, as in France under the old regime and in
Russia, we naturally find parties coming up, like the Jacobins and
the Anarchists, who would fain destroy all government and send
us back to savagery ; for in politics as well as in physics it may be
said that action and reaction are equal and in opposite directions.

10 THE PARAGRAPH.

Bat in England, just because the people have always been able to
find their voice and use it, things have proceeded normally, in a
quiet and slow development, like the unfolding of a flower; and
so the differences between parties have never assumed a radically
explosive form, but have taken the shape with which we are famil-
iar as the differences between Liberals and Tories. — Fiske : Essays
Historical and Literary , Vol. I., p. 171.

General Laws op the Paragraph.

5. As a unit of discourse, every paragraph, whether
related or isolated, is subject to the general laws of unity,
selection, proportion, sequence, and variety, which govern all
good composition.

6. Unity. — The most important of these is the law of
unity, which requires that the sentences composing the para-
graph be intimately connected with one another in thought and
purpose. The fundamental idea of the paragraph is oneness of
aim and end in all of its parts. Unity is violated, therefore,
when any sentence is admitted as a part, which does not
clearly contribute its share of meaning towards the object
for which the paragraph is written. Unity forbids digres-
sions and irrelevant matter. The most common violation
of unity is including matter in one paragraph which should
either be taken out and made a separate paragraph by itself
or be dropped altogether.

The following paragraph treating of the unity of the
Gothic cathedral is a fine illustration of this fundamental
law: —

Wonderful as the art of the cathedral is, it was no mere wanton
exercise of the imagination. Every part of the most complicated
cathedral was carefully adjusted to every other, was as nicely cal-
culated and as boldly executed as any notable piece of modern
engineering. Every portion of a well-ordered Gothic structure
performed a useful and necessary function. The high vaults of

UNITY. 11

the nave were the fundamental element. These must be high
enough to permit the introduction of windows beneath them that
would admit light over the roofs of the aisles. This was the great
architectural problem of the Middle Ages, and Gothic architecture
was developed in striving to solve it. How this was done and
where and why, we need not stop to inquire. But it is useful to
keep in mind the fact that the buttresses and flying buttresses,
which, in the hands of the French builders, became so marked an
ornamental feature, performed the useful and necessary work of
carrying the vault thrusts, which were further held in check by the
pinnacles placed on the buttresses. The walls in a thoroughly
developed Gothic church — thoroughly developed, that is, in the
sense of illustrating Gothic principles in their fullest phase of
development — are mere curtains between the buttresses. It thus
became possible to introduce windows of great size, wholly filling
the space between the buttresses, and reaching quite to the vault-
ing ribs in the aisles and the clearstory of the nave. The funda-
mental Gothic principle of building was the ' concentration of
weights and thrusts upon certain strong structural points, which,
in the church, were the buttresses. This accomplished, it was the
builders' task to give this structural frame an artistic form, which
should make it beautiful without hiding its structural nature.

— Barr Ferree.

The following paragraph from Dryden, on Translation,
will, on the other hand, serve to illustrate how unity is
frequently violated; —

(1) Translation is a kind of drawing after the life; where
every one will acknowledge there is a double sort of likeness, a
good one and a bad. It is one thing to draw the outlines true,
the features like, the proportions exact, the coloring itself per-
haps tolerable; and another thing to make all these graceful,
by the posture, the shadowings, and chiefly by the spirit which
animates the whole. (2) I cannot, without some indignation,
look on an ill copy of an excellent original; much less can
I behold with patience Virgil, Homer, and some others, whose
beauties I have been endeavouring all my life to imitate, so
abused, as I may say, to their faces by a botching interpreter.

12 THE PARAGRAPH.

What English readers, unacquainted with Greek or Latin, will
believe me or any other man, when we commend these authors,
and confess we derive all that is pardonable in us from their
fountains, if they take those to be the same poets whom our
Oglevies have translated? But I dare assure them that a good
poet is no more like himself in a dull translation, than his carcase
would be to his living body. (3) There are many who under-
stand Greek and Latin and yet are ignorant of their mother
tongue. The proprieties and delicacies of the English are known
to few; it is impossible even for a good wit to understand and
practise them without the help of a liberal education, long reading
and digesting of those few good authors we have amongst us; the
knowledge of men and manners, the freedom of habitudes and
conversation with the best company of both sexes ; and, in short,
without wearing off the rust which he contracted while he was
laying in a stock of learning. Thus difficult it is to understand
the purity of English, and critically to discern, not only good
writers from bad, and a proper style from a corrupt, but also to
distinguish that which is pure in a good author from that which
is vicious and corrupt in him. And for want of all these requisites,
or the greatest part of them, most of our ingenious young men take
up some cried-up English poet for their model; adore him, and
imitate him, as they think, without knowing wherein he is defec-
tive, where he is boyish and trifling, wherein either his thoughts
are improper to his subject, or his expressions unworthy of his
thoughts, or the turn of both is unharmonious.

The section of this paragraph marked (2) is an expression
of Dry den's personal feelings towards bad translations, and
shows no connection with what precedes in the section
marked (1), which states the nature and difficulties of
translation. Section (2) should either be omitted entirely
or be taken out and made into a separate paragraph, prefaced,
as Bain suggests (Rhetoric, Part I. p. 113), by some such
statement as this : "A good original must not be judged by
an ill copy." Section (3) would, in the latter case, also be-
come a separate paragraph, prefaced by some such state-
ment as this: "That good translations are few is not to be

SELECTION. 13

wondered at. For a good translation two things are re-
quired: a knowledge of English, as well as a knowledge
of the original. " The order of the paragraphs would then
be (1), (3), (2). If section (2) were omitted entirely, sec-
tion (3) might be unified with section (1) by prefacing (3)
with the single sentence: "Eor a good translation two
things are required : a knowledge of English, as well as a
knowledge of the original." The changes suggested here
in the order of sentences illustrate also the law of sequence
(the fourth law of the paragraph).

7. Selection. — Of the multitude of things that may be
said on a given subject, what shall be chosen for mention
in the paragraph? The law of selection gives a twofold
answer. In the first place, the points selected should be
those that will best subserve the purpose in writing and will
give force and distinction to its main idea. In the second place,
the points selected should be those that will be best adapted to
the particular audience addressed. On the first part of the
, rule, it should be said that a few points will usually serve
better than many. What to omit is always an important
question, especially in narrative and descriptive paragraphs.
The effort to make a narrative or a description complete
even to the smallest details may render the account obscure.
It is not the number of items cited, but their significance
that counts. In the following, the illustration from por-
trait painting is especially apt, embodying in itself the
point of the whole matter at issue.

How, indeed, is it possible for any writer to narrate any fact
without having previously determined its value and importance
in his own mind? and how can he determine these, unless he
previously possess some theory of the moral laws by which human
action is regulated? A narration, you say, is a picture in words ;
neither more nor less. Be it so ; but even the painter who paints
your portrait must place you in some attitude or costume, and
will endeavor to select the attitude or costume most character-

14 THE PARAGRAPH,

istic of the predomiryiaiit disposition of your mind. And the facts
he is about to relate ought to present themselves in a definite
maimer before the mind of the writer, whose aim it should be to
place himself in a definite point of view, from which he feels he
can most completely grasp their true aspect. The historian must
necessarily have some theory of arrangement, perspective, and
expression, from which, logically, he will be guided to a theory of
causes. The cause of every fact is an essential part of that fact,
and determines its ruling characteristics. What is a fact, but the
effort of a cause seeking to create or influence the future ? — Joseph
Mazzini: Essays, Carlyle's History of the French Revolution.

In paragraphs of an expository or argumentative char-
acter, violations of the law of selection most often appear
in the use of remote and inapplicable figures of speech and
far-fetched and misleading contrasts. The following con-
tains two such contrasts, here printed in italics : —

Ordinary criminal justice knows nothing of set-off. The
greatest desert cannot be pleaded in answer to a charge of the
slightest transgression. If a man has sold beer on Sunday morning,
it is no defence that he has saved (he life of a fellow-creature at
the risk of his own. If he has harnessed a Newfoundland dog to
his little child's carriage, it is no defence that he was wounded at
Waterloo, — Macaulay : Lord Clive.

Some more obvious " transgression " than "harnessing a
Newfoundland dog to his little child's carriage" (it will
occur to most readers) ought to have been cited, in order
to justify the extraordinary method of defence suggested
— that of exposing the wounds the prisoner received at
Waterloo. The very wideness from each other of the things
selected for contrast defeats the writer's purpose.

Another example from the same author has been noted
by Morley : —

Those strokes of minute circumstantiality which he [Macaulay]
loved so dearly show that even in moments when his imagination
might seem to be moving both spontaneously and ardently, it was
really only a literary instrument, a fashioning tool and not a

SELECTION, 15

melting flame. Let us take a single example. He is describing
the trial of Warren Hastings. ** Every step in the proceedings,"
he says, "carried the mind either backward through many
troubled centuries to the days when the foundations of our con-
stitution were laid ; or far away over boundless seas and deserts,
to dusky nations living under strange stars, worshiping strange
gods, and writing strange characters from right to left." The odd
triviality of the last detail, its unworthiness of the sentiment of
the passage, leaves tbe leader checked; what sets out as a flne
stroke of imagination dwindles down to a sort of literary conceit.
And this puerile twist, by the way, is all the poorer, when it is
considered that the native writing is really from left to right, and
only takes the other direction in a foreign, that is to say, a Persian
alphabet. — J. Morley : Critical Miscellanies, Macaulay,

This is a charge, however, that cannot often be brought
against Macaulay. His paragraphs are, in general, models
of structure, unity, and force.

De Quincey, especially when he tries to be humorous,
often suffers a temporary paralysis of the selective faculty.
In the following etample, if the subject of the paragraph is
" The Age of the Earth according to Kant," the portions in
brackets are not happily chosen.

Meantime, what Kant understood by being old is something
that still remains to be explained. If one stumbled in the steppes
of Tartary on the grave of a megalonyx, and, after long study, had
deciphered from some pre-Adamite hiero-pothooks the following
. epitaph : ** Hie jacet a megalonyx, or Hicjacet a mammoth, (as the
case might be,) who departed this life, to the grief of his numer-
ous acquaintance, in the seventeen thousandth year of his age,"
— [of course one would be sorry for him ; because it must be dis-
agreeable at any age to be torn away from life and from all one's
little megalonychal comforts : that's not pleasant, you know, even
if one is seventeen thousand years old. But] it would make all
the difference possible in your grief whether the record indicated a
premature death, — [that he had been cut off, in fact, whilst just
stepping into life, — or had kicked the bucket when full of honors,
and been followed to the grave by a train of weeping grandchil-

16 THS PARAOBAPB.

dren. He had died " in his teens " ; that's past denying. But still]
we must know to what stage of life in a man had corresponded
seventeen thousand years in a mammoth. Now, exactly this was
what Kant desired to know about our planet. Let her have lived
any number of years that you suggest, (shall we say, if you please,
that she is in her billionth year ?) still that tells us nothing about
the period of life, the stage, which she may be supposed to have
reached. Is she a child, in fact? or is she an adult? [And if an
adult, and that you gave a ball to the solar system, is she that kind
of person that you would introduce to a waltzing partner, some
fiery young gentleman like Mars ? or would you rather suggest to
her the sort of partnership which takes place at a whist table?]
On this, as on so many other questions, Kant was perfectly sensi-
ble that people of the finest understandings may, and do, take the
most opposite views. — De Quincey : System of the Heavens,

In the following description, notice that the points se-
lected for mention are few in number, and are all chosen
with the single purpose of bringing out the idea of great
wealth : —

Of the provinces which had been subject to the house of Tam-
erlane, the wealthiest was Bengal. No part of India possessed
such natural advantages both for agriculture and for commerce.
The Ganges, rushing through a hundred channels to the sea, has
formed a vast plain of rich mold which, even under the tropical
sky, rivals the verdure of an English April. The ricefields yield
an increase such as is elsewhere unknown. Spices, sugar, vegeta-
ble oils, are produced with marvelous exuberance. The rivers
afford an inexhaustible supply of fish. The desolate islands along
the sea-coast, overgrown by noxious vegetation, and swarming
with deer and tigers, supply the cultivated districts with abundance
of salt. The great stream which fertilizes the soil is, at the same
time, the chief highway of Eastern commerce. On its banks, and
on those of its tributary waters, are the wealthiest marts, the most
splendid capitals, and the most sacred shrines of India. The
tyranny of man had for ages struggled in vain against the over-
flowing bounty of nature. In spite of the Mussulman despot and
of the Mahratta freebooter, Bengal was known through the East

SELECTION. 17

as the Garden of Eden, as the rich kingdom. Its population mul-
tiplied exceedingly. Distant provinces were nourished from the
overflowing of its granaries ; and the noble ladies of London and
Paris were clothed in the delicate produce of its looms.

— Macaulay : Lord Clive.

The second part of the rule enjoins the selection of those
points that the particular audience addressed will under-
stand and appreciate. The writer needs to consider what
his reader knows about the subject, how much explanation
is necessary, what may be curtailed or omitted. The
scientist will write differently on the same topic for an
association of scientists and for a popular magazine. One
who is addressing an audience of students, or of working men,
or of business men, or of scholars, will find himself choos-
ing the things to say that are most likely to be of interest
to the particular audience before him. In the following it
is evident that the names chosen for mention are precisely
those that are held in universal esteem, though other names
might be substituted that would not be so willingly granted
by all readers the high title of "Christian hero."

One of the most encouraging features of the age in which we
live is the rapidity with which the bitter feelings attendant upon
a terrible civil war have faded away and given place to mutual
friendliness and esteem between gallant men who, less than thirty
years ago, withstood one another in deadly strife. Among our
public men who hunger for the highest offices, a few Rip Van
Winkles are still to be found who, without sense enough to realize
the folly and wickedness of their behavior, try now and then to
fan into fresh life the dying embers of sectional prejudice and dis-
trust ; but their speech has lost its charm, and those that bow the
ear to it are few. The time is at hand when we may study the
great Civil War of the nineteenth century as dispassionately as
we study that of the seventeeiith ; and the warmest admirer of
Cromwell and Lincoln may rejoice in belonging to a race of men
that had produced such noble Christian heroes as Lucius, Vis-
oount Falkland, and Greneral Robert Lee. Such a time seems

18 THE PARAGRAPH.

certainly not far off when we see how pleasantly the generals of
opposing armies can now sit down and tell their reminiscences, and
discuss each other's opinions and conduct in the pages of a popular
magazine. — Fiske : Essays Historical and Literary, Vol. L, p. 3.

8. Proportion. — The law of proportion requires, first, that
enough be said to exhibit fully the purpose and idea of the para-
graph. Paragraphs will, therefore, differ in length according
to the importance and scope of the ideas they present. No
arbitrary rules can be given as to the proper length of para-
graphs. Observing the custom of some of our best writers,
we may safely say that it is not well to extend a single
paragraph beyond three hundred words. The advantage
of at least one paragraph-indention on almost every pag«
of a printed book is felt by every reader. On the other
hand, as Professor Earle says {English Prose, p. 212),
" The term paragraph can hardly be applied to anything
short of three sentences," though skilful writers sometimes
make a paragraph of two sentences, or even of one.

This law requires, secondly, that the details which make up
the paragraph be treated and amplified in proportion to their
respective importance to the main idea and purpose of the para-
graph. Subordinate ideas and subsidiary details should be kept
subordinate and subsidiary.^

1 A corollary of this requirement of the law of proportion has been
elevated by Professor Barrett Wendell to the dignity of a fundamental
principle : —

*• So we come to the principle which governs the external form of para-
graphs, — the principle of Mass : that the chief parts of each composition
should be so placed as readily to catch the eye."

— English Composition^ p. 126.

" How conspicuous the chief places in any paragraph are, a glance at
any printed page will show. Trained or untrained, the human eye cannot
help dwelling instinctively a little longer on the beginnings and ends of
paragraphs than on any other points in tie discourse. ... It is a simple
question of visible, external outline ; and it means, in other words, that
the beginning and the end of a paragraph are beyond doubt the fittest
places for its chief ideas, and so for its chief words." — J6., pp. 127-128.

PROPORTION. 19

Thirdly^ overamplification and too extensive illustration of
a simple statement admitted by every one are violations of the
law of proportion. The term economy is very aptly used
by Spencer in his Philosophy of Style to express this require-
]iieut of the law of proportion. Concisely stated, it implies
the employment of the simplest means for securing the full-
est effects. At any moment, Spencer argues, the reader or
hearer has only a certain amount of mental energy to ex-
pend upon what he is reading or hearing. Part of this
energy must be expended upon the mere symbols of writing
or speech ; the remainder may be devoted to the ideas or
emotions embodied in those symbols. It follows that the
less energy the reader or listener needs to expend upon the
form, the more he may devote to the thought or the emotion.
Difficult words, involved constructions, unnecessary ampli-
fication or illustration, as well as unidiomatic order, are all
uneconomical because they attract the reader's attention
from the thought to the manner of expression.

In illustration of the first requirement of this rule, con-
trast the two paragraphs that follow. In the first, the main
thought is found in the words, "A man is a fagot of , thun-
derbolts," and " We only believe as deep as we live." This
thought is not sufficiently illustrated for the general reader,
and what is said by way of explanation is as indefinite in
character as the proposition it purports to explain. The
force of the last sentence in the quotation will hardly be
felt at the first reading, unless one happens to emphasize

Elsewhere, in speaking of whole compositions, Professor Wendell iden-
tifies mass and proportion: " We have now reached a point in our dis-
cussion of the principle of Mass where I believe we may well glance at
another phase of it. The bulk of sentences is too small to permit this
.phase to be considered in connection with them. The bulk of paragraphs
is large enough to make it now worth attention. In whole compositions
we shall find it more important still. Briefly phrased, it is simply this;
Due proportion should subsist between principal and subordinate matters."

— /6., p. 131.

20 THE PABAGRAPH.

the word we. The second paragraph, from the same
writer, is quoted as an illustration of the perfect fulfilment
of the law of proportion.

We are just so frivolous and sceptical. Men hold themselves
cheap and vile ; and yet a man is a fagot of thunderbolts. All the
elements pour through his system; he is the flood of the flood,
and fire of the fire ; he feels the antipodes and the pole, as drops
of his blood : they are the extension of his personality. His duties
are measured by that instrument he is ; and a right and perfect
man would be felt to the centre of the Copernican system. 'Tis
curious that we only believe as deep as we live. We do not think
heroes can exert any more awful power than that surface-play
which amuses us. A deep man believes in miracles, waits for
them, believes in magic, believes that the orator will decompose
his adversary; believes that the evil eye can wither, that the
heart's blessing can heal; that love can exalt talent; can overcome
all odds. From a great heart secret magnetisms flow incessantly
to draw great events. But we prize very humble utilities, a pru-
dent husband, a good son, a voter, a citizen, and deprecate any
romance of character ; and perhaps reckon only his money value,

— his intellect, his affection, as a sort of bill of exchange, easily
convertible into fine chambers, pictures, music, and wine. — Emer-
son : Essay on Beauty,

The artist who is to produce a work which is to be admired, not
by his friends or his townspeople or his contemporaries, but by all
men, and which is to be more beautiful to the eye in proportion
to its culture, must disindividualize himself, and be a man of no
party, and no manner, and no age, but one through whom the
soul of all men circulates, as the common air through his lungs.
He must work in the spirit in which we conceive a prophet to
speak, or an angel of the Lord to act ; that is, he is not to speak
his own words, or do his own works, or think his own thoughts,
but he is to be an organ through which the universal mind acts.

— Emerson : Essay on Art.

The two paragraphs cited from Emerson are of about
equal difficulty in regard to the thought ; the ease of com-
prehension in the case of the latter and the difficulty of

PROPORTION. 21

comprehension in the case of the former are fairly attribu-
table to the observance of the law of proportion in the one
and to its neglect in the other.

The following will illustrate undue prominence given to
a subordinate idea, at the cost of clearness : —

(1) If we would study with profit the history of our ancestors,
we must be constantly on our guard against that delusion which
the well-known names of families, places, and offices naturally
produce, and must never forget that the country of which we
read was a very different country from that in which we live.
(2) In every experimental science there is a tendency towards
perfection. (3) In every human being there is a wish to amelior-
ate his own condition. (4) These two principles have often
sufficed, even when counteracted by great public calamities and
by bad institutions, to carry civilization rapidly forward. (5) No
ordinary misfortune, no ordinary misgovernnient, will do so much
to make a nation wretched, as the constant progress of physical
knowledge and the constant effort of every man to better hiiiiself
will do to make a nation prosperous. [Then follows a page show-
ing the vast increase of wealth in England during the last six
centuries and the reasons for it.] (12) The consequence is that a
change to which the history of the old world furnishes no parallel
has taken place in our country. (13) Could the England of 1685
be, by some magical process, set before our eyes, we should not
know one landscape in a hundred or one building in ten thousand.
[Another page of details, similar to those in the last sentence,
follows.] — Macaulay: History of England, Vol. I., chap. iii.

The undue prominence given to the second and third
sentences, stated (as they are) as independent propositions
apparently 'of equal importance with the first sentence and
illustrated at great length, occasions doubt in the mind of
the reader as to what is the main idea of the paragraph ;
and it is not until sentence (12) is reached that it becomes
evident that sentence (1) contains, after all, the main idea,
and that the ten sentences intervening are subordinate and
are intended to account for the fact that " the country of

22 THE PARAGRAPH.

which we read was a very different country from that in
which we live." The subordination might be plainly indi-
cated, and all doubt of the reader removed, by introducing
immediately after sentence (1) some such statement as this :
" In the course of centuries, vast differences are inevitably
brought about in a country by the operation of social prin-
ciples alone."

The following paragraph, which illustrates unnecessary
amplification of a self-evident proposition, is termed by the
writer of it " a string of platitudes " : —

Lucidity is one of the chief characteristics of sanity. A sane
man ought not to be unintelligible. Lucidity is good everywhere,
for all time and in all things, in a letter, in a speech, in a book,
in a poem. Lucidity is not simplicity. A lucid poem is not
necessarily an easy one. A great poet may tax our brains, but he
ought not to puzzle our wits. We may often have to ask in
humility, What does he mean ? but not in despair, What can he
mean ? — A. Birrell : Obiter Dicta.

9. Sequence. — The law of sequence, or method, requires
that the sentences be presented in the order which will best
bring out the thought. In narrative paragraphs the order of
events in time is usually the best ; in descriptions, the order
of objects in space or according to their prominence. In
expository or argumentative paragraphs, climax, or that
ordering of sentences which proceeds steadily from •the least
to the most forcible and important, will sometimes prove to
be the best method. But usually, the thought of each para-
graph as it develops will dictate the natural sequence of the
sentences.

A good sequence of sentences will result in the literary
virtue that is called Coherence. Close attention to words of
connection and subordination and to the adjustment of each
sentence to the one preceding it (see §§ 27-28) will do much
in securing this valuable quality.

SEQUENCE. 28

In the followiog paragraph, a logical method is strictly
observed, the second, third, and fourth sentences particular-
izing the idea of "prerogative," and the fifth, sixth, and
seventh, the idea of " purity."

The watchwords of the new government were prerogative and
purity. The sovereign was no longer to be a puppet in the hands of
any subject, or of any combination of subjects. Greorge the Third
would not be forced to take ministers whom he disliked, as his
grandfather had been forced to take Pitt. George the Third would
not be forced to part with any whom he delighted to honor, as his
grandf atherhad been forced to part with Carteret. At the same time,
the system of bribery which had grown up during the late reigns was
to cease. It was ostentatiously proclaimed that, since the accession of
the young King, neither constituents nor representatives had been
bought with the secret service money. To free Britain from corrup-
tion and oligarchical cabals, to detach her from continental connec-
tions, to bring the bloody and expensive war with France and Spain
to a close, such were the specious objects which Bute professed to
procure. — Macaulay : Second Essay on the Earl of Chatham^ p. 40.

The follovjring vnll serve to illustrate the order of climax.
The clauses of the last sentence grow in length, power, and
in volume both of sound and of idea until the end is reached
in the strongest words.

The great wheel of political revolution began to move in America.
Here its rotation was guarded, regular, and safe. Transferred to the
other continent, from unfortunate but natural causes, it received an
irregular and violent impulse ; it whirled along with a fearful celerity;
till at length, like the chariot wheels in the races of antiquity, it took
fire from the rapidity of its own motion, and blazed onward, spread*
ing conflagration and terror around. — Webster : First Bunker Hill
Oration,

The first of the two paragraphs which follow illustrates
in the last three sentences what may be called the alter-
nating method, in which the main idea (that of " sublimity ")
occurs, under different forms of expression, in every sen-
tence, accompanied in each case by the statement of some

24 THE PARAGRAPH.

other characteristic of Milton's style, of lesser importance.
The three lesser qualities mentioned are arranged in the
order of climax. The second of these two paragraphs is
quoted for the sake of completeness.

He had considered creation in its whole extent, and his descrip-
tions are therefore learned. He had accustomed his imagination to
unrestrained indulgence, and his conceptions therefore were exten-
sive. The characteristic quality of his poem is sublimity. He
sometimes descends to the elegant, but his element is the great. He
can occasionally invest himself with grace; but his natural port is
gigantic loftiness. He can please when pleasure is required; but
it is his peculiar power to astonish.

He seems to have been well acquainted with his own genius, and
to know what it was that nature had bestowed upon him more bounti-
fully than upon others ; the power of displaying the vast, illuminating
the splendid, enforcing the awful, darkening the gloomy, and aggra-
vating the dreadful ; he therefore chose a subject on which too much
could not be said, on which he might tire his fancy without the cen-
sure of extravagance. — Johnson : Life of Milton,

In the last paragraph just quoted, the logical method is :

(1) Milton's knowledge of the character of his own genius,

(2) what that character was, (3) result of this knowledge on
his choice of a subject.

10. Variety. — The law of variety requires that as much
diversity as is consistent with the purpose of the paragraph be
introduced. Variety will appear in length of sentences, in
their structure, in phraseology, in the ordering of details,
and in the method of building different paragraphs. Vari-
ety in the length of different paragraphs as well as in their
structure is also desirable.

To illustrate fully this important law is obviously im-
possible. Let the student note carefully the paragraphs
already quoted : —

First, as to length of sentences. The use of both long
and short sentences will be noticed as helpful in sustaining

VABIETT, 25

the reader's interest. Observe the forceful but curt and
choppy effect of the almost exclusive use of short sentences
in the first quotation from Emerson; equal length giving
all of the sentences equal prominence, thus making the
main idea harder to find. In the other quotations, note
that one use of the short sentence is to state forcibly the
main thought in brief, the longer sentences being devoted
to explanations or details. Point out instances of this,
especially in the quotation from Dryden. Observe also the
smooth effect of the long sentences. It is the character of
the thought of the paragraph that decides in many cases
whether the sentence shall be long or short. Point this out
in the quotations from Emerson, Macaulay, and Webster.

Secondly, as to structure of sentences. Point out the
various ways in which the sentences of these quotations
begin. Is the subject introduced first in all cases ? Notice,
in reading Emerson's first paragraph, after several short sen-
tences constructed alike, the relief occasioned by the slight
change of structure in the seventh sentence beginning
"From a great heart," etc. Find examples of sentences
in these quotations in which the full idea is not apparent
until the close of the sentence is reached (Periodic struc-
ture). Notice in the conversational paragraphs of the first
quotation examples of loose structure, in which the sentence
might come to a full stop before the close, and still make
sense. Find other examples of this. Find examples of
balanced structure, in which the different elements of a
sentence are made to answer to each other and set each
other off by similarity of form ; especially in the quotations
from Macaulay, Dryden, Johnson, and Emerson. Find
examples in which whole sentences have this similarity of
form and answer to each other. Do the complex sentences
usually contain the main idea of these paragraphs ? Note
that it is the nature of the thought which makes some of
the sentences interrogative and which causes other depart-

26 THE PARAGRAPH,

ures from the usual form of sentence structure. Find ex-
amples of this.

Thirdly, as to phraseology. Notice, first, variety in the
words used for expressing the same idea in a paragraph.
What words in the quotation from Hamerton bring out the
idea of "frivolous"? What, in the second quotation from
Emerson, the idea of "disindividualize" ? What, in the next
quotation (from Macaulay), the idea of "difference and
change " ? What, in the quotation from Dr. Johnson, the
idea of " sublimity " ? Notice, next, the variety in the rela-
tion-words {of, by, to, from, for, etc.) which introduce different
phrases. The value to a writer of having a large stock of expe-
dients for securing variety in introducing phrases is very
great. Some writers overwork the relation- word of, when, by
a slight modification in phrase-structure, other relation-
words might be used instead and the sentence improved.
For practice try the plan of substituting adjectives for some
of the phrases in the quoted paragraphs on the preceding
pages. Notice that such substitutions often compel re-
modeling the whole sentence.

Fourthly, as to ordering of details and method of build-
ing different paragraphs. These subjects will be considered
more fully at a later stage of our study. At present, notice
the variety in method of presenting the various details in
Macaulay's descriptive paragraph. (See Selection.) Do
you find anything to criticise in the order of the sen-
tences ?

It will be found in practice that the close observance of
any one of the general laws, unity, selection, proportion,
and sequence, will tend to give a paragraph the qualities
required by the other three. For instance, the rearrange-
ment of the order (method) of the sentences will often
secure unity to a paragraph which seemed without unity.
The law of unity understood in a large sense would include
selection, proportion, and sequence. These, however, have

THEME OF THE PARAGRAPH, 27

been deemed worthy of study by themselves. A good
maxim^ summing up these laws, is, In writing paragraphs^
aim at unity of thought and variety of statement.

C. THE ISOLATED PARAGRAPH.

11. The isolated paragraph was defined in § 4 as a single
paragraph which in itself gives an adequate treatment of any
subject or of a single phase of any subject. By the expres-
sion "adequate treatment" is meant, not all that might be
said on a given subject, but enough for the purpose in hand,
whatever that may chance to be. Adequate treatment is
therefore treatment sufficiently complete for carrying out
the writer's purpose. The following short paragraph taken
from Thomas Carlyle's James Carlyle will illustrate this
satisfying effect, this sense of completeness : —

The first impulse of man is to seek for enjoyment. He lives
with more or less impetuosity, more or less irregularity, to conquer
for himself a home and blessedness of a mere earthly kind. Not
till later (in how many cases never) does he ascertain that on
earth there is no such home : that his true home lies beyond the
world of sense, is a celestial home.

12. Paragraph Subject. — Every paragraph should have
a clearly defined idea to the development of which each
sentence contributes. The idea must not be too broad for
brief treatment ; but this is easily managed, since any idea
may be narrowed by imposing upon it successive conditions
and limitations of time, place, point of view, etc.

To illustrate : General subject — " The Study of Latin."
Subject limited to a single point of view — " Uses of Latin
study." Limited further, as to place — "Uses of Latin
study to American students." Limited further, as to time
— " Uses of Latin study to American students of the present

28 THE PARAGRAPH,

timey Limited further, by selection, to available theme —
" Use of Latin study to American students of the present
time in widening their English vocabulary. ^^

The general subject is the broad statement of a general
idea without limitation. The theme is the general subject
narrowed in scope and made definite by limitation, so as to
show the purpose of the writer. The full statement of the
theme is often long and unattractive. The theme may
be restated in a briefer and more attractive form. It
is then called a title. A briefer statement of the theme
in the illustration above, to be used as a paragraph-title,
might be, " One Reason for Studying LatinJ^ The title
should be suggestive of the theme, but should not over-
state the theme. Most themes may be used as titles with-
out restatement.

Examples of paragraph-titles may be found in the news-
papers and in the marginal notes of such books as the
Ericydopoedia Britannica, Gardiner's Tliirty Tears^ War,
Bryce's Holy Roman Empire, Creightoii's Age of Elizabeth,
and Hallam's Works. The shorter isolated paragraphs to
be found in the editorial columns of the newspapers and the
related paragraphs of most books are usually printed with-
out titles.

13. The Topic-statement. — The theme of the paragraph is
usually expressed definitely and unmistakably in one of the
sentences, called the topic-statement. This is the outward sign
and announcement of the paragraph's unity. The topic-
statement is generally most effective when short and strik-
ing. It is often found to be, however, not a whole sentence
in itself, but only a part of a sentence, what precedes
being obviously preparatory to its more forcible presenta-
tion. Sometimes the topic-statement need not be expressed
definitely. In such a paragraph the topic is implied in all
that is said. The test of a good paragraph of this kind is

THE TOPIC-STATEMENT. 29

the possibility of phrasing the main idea which it contains
in a single sentence. Whether expressed or implied, there-
fore, the topic-statement should exist as a working theme in
the mind of the writer while constructing each sentence,
and the bearing of each sentence on the paragraph-theme
should be clear and distinct.

14. The Place of the Topic-statement. Topic-statement
First. — Many paragraphs require a formal statement of
the theme. This is usually true when the paragraph con-
sists of a principle that is proved by particular examples,
or when a general idea is expounded by argument, or when
a formal proposition is treated. In such cases the theme is
usually announced in the first sentence. The following will
illustrate : —

[Topic-statement] I believe the Chinese people to possess all
the mental and physical qualities required for national greatness.
[Particulars] They love the land of their birth with a superstitious
reverence; they believe in their own superiority, and despise all
other races. They are fine men, endowed with great powers of
endurance ; industrious and thrifty, they have few wants and can
live on little, and that little, poor food. Absolutely indifferent to
death, they are fearless and brave, and when well trained and well
led make first-rate soldiers. I have seen thera under fire, and found
them cool and undismayed by danger. — Lord Wolseley.

15. Topic-statement First and Last. — Sometimes, to em-
phasize the leading idea, the topic is stated both at the
beginning and at the end of a paragraph. When the
thought is sufficiently important to justify such emphasis,
this practice is commendable, for the repetition of the sub-
ject at the close completes the circuit of the thought and
gives the appearance of finished roundness to the whole
idea. This plan is especially commendable in spoken parar
graphs, the repetition, in this case, being a notification to the

80 THE PARAGRAPH.

hearer that the discussion of the point in hand is finished.
The following will illustrate these statements : —

[Topic-statement] The grand reason for paying debt is that we
want to strengthen the credit of the State as the cheapest and best of all
insurances. [Example] If any one doubts that, let him look at
the position of the United States. That grand republic has no
fleet, and on the water could hardly fight Spain; but she has
reduced her debt by strenuous paying, and every one knows that
if she wanted a fleet to blow Spain out of the water, or to contest
the seas with us, she could buy and complete one in twelve months.
[Topic repeated] Her payment of her debt is an insurance, not only
against defeat, but against attack. — London [England] Spectator.

I begin with the postulate, that [Topic-statement] it is the law of
our nature to desire happiness. This law is not local, but universal ;
not temporary, but eternal. It is not a law to be proved by excep-
tions, for it knows no exception. [Examples] The savage and the
martyr welcome fierce pains, not because they love pain, but
because they love some expected remuneration of happiness so
well, that they are willing to purchase it at the price of the
pain, — at the price of imprisonment, torture, or death. [Another
example] The young desire happiness more keenly than any
others. The desire is innate, spontaneous, exuberant ; and noth-
ing but repeated and repeated overflows of the lava of disappoint-
ment can burn or bury it in the human breast. On this law of
our nature, then, we may stand as on an immovable foundation of
truth. Whatever fortune may befall our argument, our premises
are secure. [Topic repeated] The conscious desire of happiness
is active in all men. — Horace Mann : Thoughts for a Young Man.

16. Topic-statement Last. — The details of a paragraph
may, in special cases, precede the statement of the subject ;
the proofs may be presented before the proposition is stated.
In such cases the topic-statement may be delayed until the
close of the paragraph. This plan will usually be found
expedient when the thought is not likely to be favorably
received if stated abruptly at the beginning, when the
topic-statement contains an unwelcome truth, or when some

THE TOPIC-STATEMENT. 81

new idea is presented to which the reader is not at once
prepared to assent. For example: —

We have new evidence of the treacherous character of the Sioux
Indians in the tragedy at Wounded Knee Creek. When their sur-
roundings are considered their treachery is not a subject for wonder.
The Sioux lad is taught that duplicity, lying, treachery, theft, and
bloodshed are the manly attributes. He must be very wily about
shedding blood, but is nothing but a '< squaw " until he has a scalp
at his belt. Then he is fed by the Government, clothed by the
Government, sheltered by the Government — that is, maintained in
absolute idleness, while he broods over real or fancied wrongs.
When he gets worked up to the proper pitch of frenzy he wants to
kill somebody, and generally does kill somebody if he is not killed
himself. It has been the Government policy to treat the Indian as
a spoiled child rather than as the dangerous brute that he is.
[Topic-statement] The events of the present Indian outbreak have
made it clear that the policy of gentleness is disastrous both to the
country and to the Indian, — The Press (N.Y.).

In the following paragraph the subject, while it is hinted
at in the second sentence, is purposely denied full and defi-
nite statement until the very last sentence : —

I will not ask your pardon for endeavoring to interest you in the
subject of Greek Mythology; but I must ask your permission to ap-
proach it in a temper differing from that in which it is frequently
treated. We cannot justly interpret the religion of any people,
unless we are prepared to admit that we ourselves, as well as they,
are liable to error in matters of faith ; and that the convictions of
others, however singular, may in some points have been well
founded, while our own, however reasonable, may in some particu-
lars be mistaken. You must forgive me, therefore, for not always
distinctively calling the creeds of the past " superstition," and the
creeds of the present day " religion " ; as well as for assuming that
a faith now confessed may sometimes be superficial, and that a
faith long forgotten may once have been sincere. It is the task of
the Divine to condemn the errors of antiquity and of the Philologist
to account for them. I will only pray you to read with patience,
and human sympathy, the thoughts of men who lived without

82 THE PARAGRAPH.

blame in a darkness they could not dispel ; and to remember that,
whatever charge of folly may justly attach to the saying, " There
is no God," the folly is prouder, deeper, and less pardonable, in say-
ing, " There is no God but for me." — Ruskin ; Queen of the Air.

17. Topic-statement Implied. — In a large number of cases,
however, the theme cannot be stated so directly ; it is not
found expressed in a topic-statement anywhere in the para-
graph, but must be grasped by the reader from the effect pro-
duced upon him by the paragraph as a whole. If the effect
is single, is an effect of oneness and of unity, the reader will
be able to supply for himself, in thought, the theme of the
paragraph ; — and the test of a good paragraph will always
be his ability to do this. But a paragraph cannot produce
the effect of unity upon the reader unless there was unity
of idea or of feeling in the mind of the writer when the
paragraph was written. It is of especial importance, there-
fore, in the case of paragraphs which have no formally
stated topic-statement to hold the writer to his theme, that
the writer keep his theme prominently in mind while con-
structing each sentence. This is very important in writing
narrative and descriptive paragraphs. In these, it is sel-
dom that the theme is expressed in so many words. Yet
a good narrative or descriptive writer will so marshal his
details that the effect will be single.

The following paragraph, of which the subject may be
stated as " The Skill and Intelligence of the Loon in Div-
ing," illustrates this unity of effect : —

As I was paddling along the north shore one very calm October
afternoon . . . having looked in vain over the pond for a loon, sud-
denly one, sailing out from the shore towards the middle a few
rods in front of me, set up his wild laugh and betrayed himself.
I pursued with a paddle and he dived, but when he came up I was
nearer than before. He dived again, but I miscalculated the di-
rection he would take, and we were fifty rods apart when he came
to the surface this time, for I had helped to widen the interval ;

THE TOPIC-STATEMENT. 33

and again he laughed long and loud, and with more reason than
before. He manoeuvred so cunningly that I could not get within
half a dozen rods of him. Each time, when he came to the sur-
face, turning his head this way and that, he coolly surveyed the
water and the land aiid apparently chose his course so that he
might come up where there was the widest expanse of water, and
the greatest distance from the boat. It was surprising how
quickly he made up his mind and put his resolve into execution.
He led me at once to the widest part of the pond, and could not
be driven from it. While he was thinking one thing in his brain,
I was endeavoring to divine his thought in mine. It was a
pretty game, played on the smooth surface of the pond, a man
against a loon. Suddenly your adversary's checker disappears
beneath the board, and the problem is to place yours nearest to
where his will appear again. Sometimes he would come up un-
expectedly on the opposite side of me, having apparently passed
directly under the boat. So long-winded was he and so unweari-
able, that when he had swum farthest he would immediately
plunge again, nevertheless ; and then no wit could divine where
in the deep pond, beneath the smooth surface, he might be speed-
ing his way like a fish, for he had time and ability to visit the
bottom of the pond in its deepest part. It is said that loons have
been caught in the New York lakes eighty feet beneath the sur-
face, with hooks set for trout, — though Walden is deeper than
that. How surprised must the fishes be to see this ungainly
visitor from another sphere speeding his way amid their schools I
Yet he appeared to know his course as surely under water as
on the surface, and swam much faster there. Once or twice I
saw a ripple where he approached the surface, just put his head
out to reconnoitre, and instantly dived again. I found that it was
as well for me to rest on my oars and wait his reappearing as to
endeavor to calculate where he would rise; for again and again,
when I was straining ray eyes over the surface one way, I would
suddenly be startled by his unearthly laugh behind me. But
why, after displaying so much cunning, did he invariably betray
himself the moment he came up by that loud laugh? Did not his
white breast enough betray him ? He was indeed a silly loon, I
thought. I could commonly hear the plash of the water when he
came up, and so also detected him. But after an hour he seemed

34 ' THE PARAGRAPH.

as fresh as ever, dived as willingly, and swam yet farther than at
first. It was surprising to see how serenely he sailed off with un-
ruffled breast when he came to the surface, doing all the work
with his webbed feet beneath. His usual note was this demoniac
laughter, yet somewhat like that of a water-fowl ; but occasion-
ally, when he had balked me most successfully and come up a
long way off, he muttered a long-drawn unearthly howl, probably
more like that of a wolf than any bird ; as when a beast puts his
muzzle to the ground and deliberately howls. This was his loon-
ing, — perhaps the wildest sound that is ever heard here, making
the woods ring far and wide. I concluded that he laughed in
derision of my efforts, confident of his own resources. Though the
sky was by this time overcast, the pond was so smooth that I
could see where he broke the surface when I did not hear him.
His white breast, the stillness of the air, and the smoothness of the
water were all against him. At length, having come up fifty rods
off, he uttered one of those prolonged howls, as if calling on the
god of loons to aid him, and immediately there came a wind from
the east and rippled the surface, and filled the whole air with
misty rain, and I was impressed as if it were the prayer of the
loon answered, and his god was angry with me ; and so I left him
disappearing far away on the tumultuous surface. — Thoreau:
Walderij Brute Neighbors,

Means of Developing the Pabagrafh-theme.

18. We shall now study some of the means by which the
idea or theme of a paragraph, as given formally in the topic-
statement or held in the mind of the writer, may be system-
atically developed. If we regard the topic-statement as the
germ-idea, it is evident that it contains, potentially, all that
may be said on the subject in hand. The work of the other
sentences is to bring out and develop clearly the thought
contained in the topic-statement, or so much of the thought
as is necessary for the purpose which the writer has in
view. The means by which they do this will, of course, vary
in different cases; and the forms in which the growing idea

DEVELOPING THE PABAOBAPH-THEME. 35

clothes itself as tlie paragraph progresses will present many
different modifications.

These means of developing the germ-idea are the typical
methods of growth of ail the forms of discourse. Although
they are numerous and various, they may be grouped, for
practical purposes, under the following heads : (a) Develop-
ment by particulars and details, (b) Development by defini-
tive statements which repeat, restrict, or enlarge the idea
and may take the form of contrasts, positive or negative,
(c) Development by comparison and illustration, (d) De-
velopment by specific instances or examples, (e) Develop-
ment by presenting reasons, (/) Development by applying
a principle, (g) Development by stating causes and effects
or results. Any sentence which performs one of these
functions may claim a place in the paragraph; any sentence
(not introductory, transitional, or summarizing) which does
none of these things should be excluded.

These means of developing the paragraph-theme are
employed in various combinations. The same paragraph
may use one or several of them. Which of them the writer
should use in a given case will be determined by his pur-
pose, by the kind of audience for which he conceives him-
self to be writing, and by the demands of the thought
expressed in the paragraph-theme. A number of these
combinations will be designated in the selections quoted
by way of illustration in the pages that follow.

19. Development by Particulars and Details. — The topic-
statement may contain an expression which naturally leads
the reader to expect that particulars and details will imme-
diately follow. When, for instance, one reads that " The
isle was strange and delicate," one wishes to know at once
what prompted the writer to describe the isle by these
adjectives. And when one reads, " There is scarcely a scene
or object familiar to the Galilee of that day which Jesus

86 THE PARAQRAPH.

did BOt use as a moral illustration of some glorious promise
or moral law," one expects an enumeration of scenes and
objects. Thus the paragraph-idea develops from the topic-
statement by the fulfilment of the implied promise which
the topic-statement makes to the reader. The particulars
and details will be descriptive or narrative, according to
the nature of the assertion made in the topic-statement.

[Topic] The isle — the undiscovered, the scarce believed in —
now lay before them and close aboard ; and Herrick thought that
never in his dreams had he beheld anything more strange and
delicate. [Particulars] The beach was excellently white, the
continuous barrier of trees inimitably green; the land perhaps
ten feet high, the trees thirty more. Every here and there, as the
schooner coasted northward, the wood was intermitted; and he
could see clear over the inconsiderable strip of land (as a man
looks over a wall) to the lagoon within ; and clear over that, again,
to where the far side of the atoll prolonged its pencilling of trees
against the morning sky. He tortured himself to find analogies.
The isle was like the rim of a great vessel sunken in the waters ;
it was like the embankment of an annular railway grown upon
with wood. So slender it seemed amidst the outrageous breakers,
so frail and pretty, he would scarce have wondered to see it sink
and disappear without a sound, and the waves close smoothly over
its descent. — Stevenson: The Amateur Emigrant.

[Topic] There is scarcely a scene or object familiar to the
Galilee of that day which Jesus did not use as a moral illustra-
tion of some glorious promise or moral law. [Details] He spoke
of green fields and springing flowers, and the budding of the
vernal trees; of the red or lowering sky; of sunrise and sunset;
of wind and rain; of night and storm; of clouds and lightning;
of stream and river; of stars and lamps; of honey and salt; of
quivering bulrushes and b'urning weeds ; of rent garments and
bursting wine-skins; of eggs and serpents; of pearls and pieces
of money; of nets and fish. Wine and wheat, corn and oil,
stewards and gardeners, laborers and employers, kings and shep-
herds, travellers and fathers of families, courtiers in soft clothing
and brides in nuptial robes — all these are found in His discourses
— Farrar : Life of Christ, Vol. I., p. 271.

DEVELOPING THE PAUAGRAPH-THEME. 37

20. Development by Definitive Statements. — The topic-
statement does not always give the exact content of the
paragraph-idea. Sometimes it may require merely a repe-
tition in simpler terms or the use of synonymous expres-
sions (as in the selections from Drummond and Swinburne
below), since these are almost instinctively resorted to when
one is striving to make one's exact meaning clear. Some-
times it may be misunderstood to include more or less than
the writer intends. The writer will therefore often define
his meaning, restricting or enlarging the content of the
terms of the topic-statement, as these are usually under-
stood, to the limits desired. In the selection from Ruskin
below the content of the term advancement in life, as com-
monly understood, is restricted or lessened by the defini-
tive statement ; in the selection from Macaulay the content
of the term mannerism, as commonly understood, is greatly
enlarged by the definitive statement. Frequently the writer
will tell in so many words what he does 7iot mean, or what
the idea does not include, as in the selection from Buskin.
This method might be called definition by negative exclu-
sion. He will perhaps then tell what he does mean. This
might be called definition by positive inclusion. Whenever
the writer does this, he is making a contrast between pos-
sible meanings not intended by him and his real meaning.
Not all contrasts, however, involve the negative form of
statement; the selection from Kingsley below does not;
but every contrast, whether negative or positive in form,
has the effect of a closer definition of the main idea. We
image a thing more clearly, we define the outlines of an
idea more accurately, when it is contrasted with something
else, when its negative or its contrary is stated.

[Topic-statement] The peculiarity of ill-temper is that it is the
vice of the virtuous. [Repeated] It is often the one blot on an
otherwise noble character. [Particularized] You know men who
are all but perfect, and women who would be entirely perfect,

38 TUS PARAGRAPH.

but for an easily ruffled, quick-tempered or " touchy " disposition.
— Drummond : The Greatest Thing in the World, p. 29.

[Topic-statement] There are few delights in any life so high
and rare as the subtle and strong delight of sovereign art and
poetry; there are none more pure and more sublime. [Repeated
and particularized] To have read the greatest work of any great
poet, to have beheld or heard the greatest works of any great
paiuter or musician, is a possession added to the best things of
life. — Swinburne: Essays and Studies (Victor Hugo: UAnnee
Tenable),

[Topic] Practically, then, at present, "advancement in life"
means, becoming conspicuous in life ; obtaining a position which
shall be acknowledged by others to be respectable or honorable,
[Defined] We do not understand by this advancement, in general,
the mere making of money, but the being known to have made it ;
not the accomplishment of any great aim, but the being seen to
have accomplished it. In a word, we mean the gi*atification of
our thirst for applause. — Ruskin : Sesame and Lilies, p. 5.

[Topic and details] We all know how beautiful and noble
modesty is; how we all admire it; how it raises a man in our
eyes to see him afraid of boasting; never showing off; never
pushing himself forward; . . . [Contrary] Whenever, on the
other hand, we see in wise and good men any vanity, boasting,
pompousness of any kind, we call it a weakness in them, and are
sorry to see them lowering themselves by the least want of divine
modesty. — Kingsley : Country Sermons, III.

Such contrasting ideas naturally express themselves in
antitheses and in balanced sentences. These produce mo-
notony and weariness, if employed often. They should be
used sparingly, and their form of presentation varied.

In the following we have the topic treated both by con-
trast and by example : —

Mannerism is pardonable and is sometimes even agreeable, when
the manner, though vicious, is natural. Few readers, for example,
would be willing to part with the mannerism of Milton or of
Burke. But a mannerism which does not sit easy on the mannerist,

DEVELOPING THE PARAGRAPH-THEME. 39

"which has been adopted on principle, and which can be sustained
only by constant effort, is always offensive. And such is the man-
nerism of Johnson. — Macaulay : Life of Johnson.

21. Development by Comparison and Illnstration. — Some-
times the paragraph-idea, as embodied in the topic-statement,
or as implied without any topic-statement, finds its best
development through a comparison or a concrete illustration.
The illustration, being usually of considerable length, detains
the attentioir of the reader upon the thought until he sees
more fully all that it means. Comparisons may be invented,
as the parables of the New Testament, or they may be real.
Examples of the employment of real comparisons are given
in the quotations from Huxley and Hamilton below.

[Topic] The vast results obtained by science are won by no
mystical faculties, by no mental processes, other than those which
are practised by every one of us in the humblest and meanest
affairs of life. [Real comparisons] A detective policeman dis-
covers a burglar from the marks made by his shoe, by a mental
process identical with that by which Cuvier restored the extinct
animals of Montmartre from fragments of their bones. Nor does
that process of induction and deduction by which a lady, finding a
stain of a particular kind upon her dress, concludes that somebody
has upset the inkstand thereon, differ in any way from that by
which Adams and Leverrier discovered a new planet. [Topic re-
peated] The man of science, in fact, simply uses with scrupulous
exactness the methods which we all habitually and at eveiy moment
use carelessly. — Huxley : Lay Sermons, p. 78.

A country may be overrun by an armed host, but it is conquered
only by the establishment of fortresses. Words are the fortresses
of thought. They enable us to realize our dominion over what we
have already overrun in thought ; to make every intellectual con-
quest the basis of operations for others still beyond. Or another
illustration : You have all heard of the process of tunnelling, of
tunnelling through a sand-bank. In this operation it is impossible
to succeed, unless every foot, nay almost every inch in our progress,
be secured by an arch of m^sonrjr^ before yfe attempt the excava-

40 THE PARAGRAPH.

tion of another. Now, language is to the mind precisely what the
arch is to the tunnel. The power of thinking and the power of
excavation are not dependent on the word in one case, on the
mason-work in the other : but without these subsidiaries, neither
process could be carried on beyond its rudimentary commencement.
— Hamilton : Logic, II., Lecture 8.

22. Development by Specific Instances or Examples. —

Sometimes the topic-statement asserts a general fact which
can be made clear only by citing specific instances or exam-
ples of the fact. A topic-statement like the following,
" The parts and signs of goodness are many," clearly prom-
ises either an enumeration of these parts and signs (particu-
lars and details) or a number of specific instances that will
show what these " parts and signs " are. Bacon, in the first
quotation given below, has chosen to give a number of spe-
cific instances. In the second quotation, from Thoreau,
although names and dates are suppressed, the numerous
instances cited are none the less specific.

[Topic] The parts and signs of goodness are many. [Specific
instances] If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it
shows that he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no
island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins to them.
If he be compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows
that his heart is like the noble tree that is wounded itself when it
gives the balm. If he easily pardons and remits offences, it shows
that his mind is planted above injuries, so that he cannot be shot.
If he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's
minds, and not their trash. But, above all, if he have St. Paul's
perfection, that he would wish to be anathema from Christ for the
salvation of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, and a
kind of conformity with Christ himself. — Bacon : Of Goodness.

[Topic] It is darker in the woods, even in common nights, than
most suppose. [Specific instance] I frequently had to look up
at the opening between the trees above the path in order to learn
my route, and, where there was no cart-path, to feel with my feet
the faint track which I had worn, or steer by the known relation

DEVELOPING THE PARAGBAPH-THEME. 41

of particular trees which I felt with my hands, passing between
two pines, for instance, not more than eighteen inches apart, in
the midst of the woods, invariably in the darkest night. [Other
instances] Sometimes, after coming home thus late in a dark and
muggy night, when my feet felt the path which my eyes could not
see, dreaming and absent-minded all the way, until I was aroused
by having to raise my hand to lift the latch, I have not been able to
recall a single step of my walk, and I have thought that perhaps my
body would find its way home if its master should forsake it, as
the hand finds its way to the mouth without assistance. [Other
instances] Several times, when a visitor chanced to stay into
evening, and it proved a dark night, I was obliged to conduct him
to the cart-path in the rear of the house, and then point out to him
the direction he was to pursue, and in keeping which he was to be
guided rather by his feet than his eyes. [Another instance] One
very dark night I directed thus on their way two young men who
had been fishing in the pond. They lived about a mile off through
the woods, and were quite used to the route. A day or two after
one of them told me that they wandered about the greater part of
the night, close by their own premises, and did not get home till
toward morning, by which time, as there had been several heavy
showers in the meanwhile, and the leaves w^ere very wet, they were
drenched to their skins. [Other instances] I have heard of many
going astray even in the village streets, when the darkness was so
thick that you could cut it with a knife, as the saying is. Some
who live in the outskirts, having come to town a-shopping in their
wagons, have been obliged to put up for the night ; and ladies and
gentlemen making a call, have gone half-a-raile out of their way,
feeling the side-walk only with their feet, and not knowing when
they turned. It is a surprising and memorable, as well as valuable
experience, to be lost in the woods at any time. Often in a snow-
storm, even by day, one will come out upon a well-known road
and yet find it impossible to tell which way leads to the village.
Though he knows that he has travelled it a thousand times, he
cannot recognize a feature in it, but it is as strange to him as if
it were a road in Siberia. By night, of course, the perplexity is
infinitely greater. In our most trivial walks we are constantly,
though unconsciously, steering like pilots by certain well-known
beacons and headlands, and if we go beyond our usual course we

42 THE PARAGRAPH.

still carry in our minds the bearing of some neighboring cape;
aad not till we are completely lost, or turned round, — for a man
needs only to be turned round once with his eyes shut in this world
to be lost, — do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of
Nature. Every man has to learn the points of compass again as
often as he awakes, whether from sleep or any abstraction. Not
till we are lost — in other words, not till we have lost the world —
do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are, and the
infinite extent of our relations. — Thoreau : Waldeuy The Village,

23. Development by Presenting Beasons. — Some topic-
statements call for reasons other than specific instances or
in addition to one or more specific instances. On reading a
topic-statement the question " Why ? " may at once arise in
the mind and demand a reason. A topic-statement which
contains an affirmation that is likely to raise a doubt should
always be supported by reasons. If, for example, one reads
that " Truly fine prose is more rare than truly fine poetry,"
one demands a reason at once for a statement which at
first thought is so surprising.

[Topic] Although fairly good prose is much more common than
fairly good verse, yet I bold that truly fine prose is more rare than
truly fine poetry. I trust that it will be counted neither a whim
nor a paradox if I give it as a reason that [Reason] mastery in
prose is au art more difficult than mastery in verse. The very
freedom of prose, its want of conventions, of settled prosody, of
musical inspiration, give wider scope for failure and afford no
beaten paths. Poetry glides swiftly down the stream of a flowing
and familiar river, where the banks are always the helmsman's
guide. Prose puts forth its lonely skiff upon a boundless sea, where
a multitude of strange and different crafts are cutting about in
contrary directions. At any rate, the higher triumphs of prose
come later and come to fewer than do the great triumphs of verse.

— F. Harrison, On English Prose,

[Topic] Any one who has taken part in an election, be it the
election of a pope by cardinals, of a town-clerk by the city council,
of a fellow by the dons of a college, of a schoolmaster by the board

DEVELOPING THE PARAGBAPH-THEME. 43

of trustees, of a pastor by a congregation, knows how much de-
pends on generalship. [Reasons] In every body of electors there
are men who have no minds of their own ; others who cannot make
up their minds till the decisive moment, and are determined by the
last word or incident ; others whose wavering inclination yields to
the pressure or follows the example of a stronger colleague. There
are therefore chances of running in by surprise an aspirant whom
few may have desired, but still fewer have positively disliked,
chances specially valuable when controversy has spent itself between
two equally matched competitors, so that the majority are ready to
jump at a new suggestion. The wary tactician awaits his oppor-
tunity; he improves the brightening prospects of his aspirant to
carry him with a run before the opposition is ready with a counter
move ; or if he sees a strong antagonist, he invents pretexts for
delay till he has arranged a combination by which that antagonist
may be foiled. Sometimes he will put forward an aspirant destined
to be abandoned, and reserve till several votings have been taken
the man with whom he means to win. All these arts are familiar
to the convention manager, whose power is seen not merely in the
dealing with so large a number of individuals and groups whose
dispositions he must grasp and remember, but in the cool prompti-
tude with which he decides on his course amid the noise and passion
and distractions of twelve thousand shouting spectators. [Real
comparison] Scarcely greater are the faculties of combination and
coolness of head needed by a general in the midst of a battle, who
has to bear in mind the position of every one of his own corps and
to divine the positions of those of the enemy's corps which remain
concealed, who must vary his plan from hour to hour according to
the success or failure of each of his movements and the new facts
that are successively disclosed, and who does all this under the
roar and through the smoke of cannon. — Bryce: The American
Commonwealth, 3d ed., Vol. II., p. 198.

[Topic] It ia exceedingly difficult to determine the cost of
ditches and canals. [Reason I] Some companies hesitate to dis-
close the cost of their works ; some decline to do so, and others do
not know. [Reason II] The numerous items of expense involved
in the construction and operations of a large irrigating canal dur-
ing the first ten years of its life cannot always be classified. These

44 THE PARAGRAPH.

works are not built with the same preliminary care and expense
as the irrigating canals of Europe. There is usually a rush to
get water on a portion of the land to be irrigated. It is not neces-
sary that the ditch should be completed to its utmost capacity.
Top planks may be left off flumes; waste ways may be left for
construction in future years; headgates may be of temporary
construction, to be made permanent later. Often construction
expense runs into operating expense, until it is hard to separate
the two items. — Mead : Irrigation Institutions.

24. Development by Applying a Principle. — Frequently
a topic-statement lays down a principle the truth of which
is assumed ; the application of the principle to some par-
ticular case usually follows at once. Sentences enforcing
the application and emphasizing it in various ways are also
introduced. The following will illustrate the statement of
a principle and its application : —

[Principle] People who cannot spend ten millions to the best
advantage are just as incapable of the economical and business-like
disbursement of nine. [Application] It is an easy and a showy
thing for a Chancellor of the Exchequer to say bluntly that he
will reduce the Estimates by so much, and the departments must
do what they can with what remains. But that procedure no
more solves the economical problem than [Illustration] the well-
known methods of Procrustes altered the real stature of his vic-
tims. — London Times.

[Statement of principle] The general principle of right arrange-
ment in sentences, which we have traced in its application to the
leading divisions of them, equally determines the proper order of
their minor divisions. [Application to particulars] In every
sentence of any complexity the complement to the subject contains
several clauses, and that to the predicate several others ; and these
may be arranged in greater or less conformity to the law of easy
apprehension. Of course with these, as with the larger members,
the succession should be from the less specific to the more specific —
from the abstract to the concrete. — Spencer : Philosophy of Style.

DEVELOPING THE PARAGRAPH-THEME. 45

25. Deyelopment by Stating Causes and Effects. — The

paragraph-theme may sometimes be best developed by a
statement of causes and effects or results. In the first
quotation below the procedure is from the discovery of the
properties of the Western grass, as cause, to the results or
effects of that discovery. In the second selection (from
Bryce) we have a long paragraph that, save for the use of
three examples at the close, is almost entirely developed
by the statement of causes and effects.

[Topic] The greatest product of Western America is grass.
[Concession] Although its growth is stunted, [Cause] it is ex-
ceedingly nutritious, and the dry air and absence of dews and
rains, which cause it to cure naturally on its stem, make it possible
for cattle, sheep, and horses to live on it in winter as well as in
summer. [Effects] When this discovery was made, the Great
American Desert ceased to exist, and what is known as the range
industry was born. From the Gulf to Canada, and from western
Kansas and Nebraska to the Sierras, the cattle round-up and
the mess wagon followed close on the disappearing Indian and
buffalo. — Mead: Irrigation Institutions.

[Contrary] The difference, therefore, between despotically gov-
erned and free countries does not consist in the fact that the latter
are ruled by opinion and the former by force, for both are gener-
ally ruled by opinion. [Topic] It consists rather in this, that in
the former the people instinctively obey a power which they do
not know to be really of their own creation, and to stand by their
own permission; whereas in the latter the people feel their su-
premacy, and consciously treat their rulers as their agents, while
the rulers obey a power which they admit to have made and to be
able to unmake them, — the popular will. [Effect] In both cases
force is seldom necessary, or is needed only against small groups,
[Cause] because the habit of obedience replaces it. Conflicts and
revolutions belong to the intermediate stage, when the people are
awakening to the sense that they are truly the supreme power in
the State, but when the rulers have not yet become aware that
their authority is merely delegated. [Causes] When superstition
and the habit of submission have vanished from the whilom sub-

46 THE PARAGRAPH.

jects, when the rulers, recognizing that they are no more than
agents for the citizens, have in turn formed the habit of obedi-
ence, [Effect] public opinion has become the active and control-
ling director of a business in which it was before the sleeping and
generally forgotten partner. [Concession] But even when this
stage has been reached, as has now happened in most civilized
States, there are differences in the degree and mode in and by
which public opinion asserts itself. [Cause] In some countries
the habit of obeying rulers and officials is so strong that [Effect]
the people, once they have chosen the legislature or executive
head by whom the officials are appointed, allow these officials
almost as wide a range of authority as in the old days of despo-
tism. [Effects] Such people have a profound respect for govern-
ment as government, and a reluctance, [Causes] due either to
theory or to mere laziness, perhaps to both, to interfere with its
action. They say, " That is a matter for the Administration ; we
have nothing to do with it " ; and stand as much aside or submit
as humbly as if the government did not spring from their own
will. [Example] Perhaps they practically leave themselves, like
the Germans, in the hands of a venerated monarch or a forceful
minister, giving these rulers a free hand so long as their policy
moves in accord with the general sentiment of the nation, and
maintains its glory. [Example] Perhaps while frequently chang-
ing their ministries, they nevertheless yield to each ministry, and
to its executive subordinates all over the country, an authority
great while it lasts, and largely controlling the action of the indi-
vidual citizen. This seems to be still true of France. [Example]
There are other countries in which, though the sphere of govern-
ment is strictly limited by law, and the private citizen is little
inclined to bow before an official, the habit has been to check the
ministry chiefly through the legislature, and to review the conduct
of both ministry and legislature only at long intervals, when an
election of the legislature takes place. This has been, and to
some extent is still, the case in Britain. Although the people
rule, they rule not directly, but through the House of Commons,
which they choose only once in four, five, or six years, and which
may, at any given moment, represent rather the past than the
present will of the nation. — Bryce: The American Commonwealth^
3d ed., Vol. II., p. 257,

DEVELOPING THE PARAGRAPn-THEME. 47

26. Introdnctory, Transitional, and Summarizing Sen-
tences. — Besides the sentences which, in the development
of a paragraph, perform one or more of the functions men-
tioned under the preceding headings, there are in some
paragraphs other sentences whose main business is to pre-
pare the way for the topic-statement, to act as a bridge be-
tween different parts of the paragraph, or to summarize the
sentences of one part before the next part is taken up. .

A whole sentence may be devoted to introducing the
topic of the paragraph ; but, more often, a short clause pre-
fixed to the topic-statement will be sufficient ; and in most
paragraphs no introduction is needed. When the introduc-
tion takes the form of a clause, this clause is frequently in
direct contrast to what is to be the main idea of the para-
graph. The following will illustrate : —

[Introductory contrast] I will not ask your pardon for endeavoiv
ing to interest you in the subject of Greek Mythology; [Subject
indicated] but I must ask your permission to approach it in a tem-
per differing from that in which it is frequently treated. — Ruskin.
[The whole quotation is given in § 16.]

[Introduction] The administration has erred in the steps to
restore peace ; but its error has not been in doing too little, but
[Topic] in betraying too great a solicitude for that event. [The
paragraph is devoted to the discussion of the administration's
" solicitude " for peace.] — Henry Clay : Speech on the War of 18 IS.

The effect of an introductory sentence is often to postpone
the topic-statement to a later stage of the paragraph. This
is seen in the following : —

[Introductory] The statement is made from time to time that
we are admitting great masses of socialists. The number is exag-
gerated, and more importance is attached to the utterances of these
than they deserve. It must be admitted, however, that some of
them know just enough to be dangerous. [Indicating what the
subject is to be] But they are permitted to go among their fellows
to inoculate them with whatever doctrines they choose, and there

48 THE PARAGRAPH.

is nothing to oppose them. Nobody has furnished their hearers
with arguments, or taken steps to teach them that in America, .
where conditions are fairly equal, no necessity exists for the violent
agitation of these questions. [Topic] But train bright young
men among these immigrants to know what their duties are, teach
them their rights, put at their disposal arguments with which to
meet the specious assertions of self-styled and talkative leaders,
and the much-vaunted dangers of socialism would disappear. —
Century,

Short summarizing sentences may be needed, at times, to
indicate the direction which the thought is next to take, or
the manner of treatment to be pursued. An explanation or
a reason, of considerable length, which is to be followed by
a resumption of the main line of thought, needs such a sen-
tence. The following paragraph illustrates this : —

A constitutional statesman is in general a man of common
opinions and uncommon abilities. The reason is obvious. [The
next twelve sentences state the reason at length, and the paragraph
concludes.] The most influential of constitutional statesmen is the
one who most felicitously expresses the creed of the moment, who
administers it, who embodies it in laws and institutions, who gives
it the highest life it is capable of, who induces the average man to
think : " I could not have done it any better, if I had had time
myself." — Bagehot : Sir Robert Peel.

* In the following, notice how the short summarizing sen-
tences (here placed in italics) perform the double duty of
acting as transitions and of furnishing a basis for the longer
sentences made up of details : —

Without force or opposition, it [national chivalry] subdued the
fierceness of pride and power ; it obliged sovereigns to submit to
the soft collar of social esteem, compelled stern authority to sub-
mit to elegance, and gave a dominating vanquisher of laws, to be
subdued by manners.

But now all is to be changed. All the pleasing illusions which
made power gentle, and obedience liberal, which harmonized the
different shades of life, and which, by a bland assimilation, incor-
porated into politics the sentiments which beautify and soften

SENTENCE STRUCTURE. 49

private society, are to be dissolved by this new conquering empire of
lig.it and reason. All the decent drapery of life is to be rudely torn off.
All the superadded ideas, furnished from the wardrobe of a moral
imagination, which the heart owns, and the understanding ratifies
as necessary to cover the defects of our naked shivering nature, and
to raise it to dignity in our own estimation, are to be exploded as
a ridiculous, absurd, and antiquated fashion. — Burke: Reflections
on the Revolution in France,

Such expressions as " The main point is this," " After all,
the fact remains," etc., are useful in a long paragraph for
summarizing what has gone before, and for indicating the
relative importance of the different ideas which make up
the paragraph. The following contains two expressions of
the kind, the first subordinating, the second giving promi-
nence : —

As a single man, I have spent a good deal of my time in noting
down the infirmities of married people to console myself for those
superior pleasures, which they tell me I have lost by remaining as
I am. I cannot say that the quarrels of men and their wives ever
made any great impression on me. . . . What of tenest offends me
at the houses of married persons where I visit, is an error of quite
a different description ; it is that they are too loving. Not too
loving neither: that does not explain my meaning. Besides, why
should that offend me? The very act of separating themselves
from the rest of the world, to have the fuller enjoyment of each
other's society, implies that they prefer one another to all the
world. But what I complain of is, that they carry this preference so
undisguisedly, they perk it up in the faces of us single people so
shamelessly, you cannot be in their company a moment without
being made to feel, by some indirect hint or open avowal, that you
are not the object of this preference. — Charles Lamb: Essays of
Elia, A Bachelor* s Complaint.

Effect on Sentence STRucTtrRE.

27. The methods of development, treated and illustrated
in the preceding pages, must have suggested to the student

50 THE PARAGRAPE.

that the requirements of any paragraph modify considerar
bly the forms of the sentences composing it. The whole
paragraph being the unit of thought, it follows that the sen-
tences are influenced, both as to their structure and as to their
position, by the demands of the main idea or theme of the para-
graph. It is the theme that reduces some sentences, which
would otherwise stand independent, to subordinate posi-
tions ; that compels the employment of connecting words ;
that determines whether or not a certain word shall be put
out of the usual order which it would occupy in an indepen-
dent sentence ; and that decides what words, phrases, clauses,
or sentences must be given the most emphatic positions.
Even questions of punctuation assume, many times, unusual
importance for the paragraph-writer. The unity of a para-
graph may be destroyed by carelessness in punctuation.
We shall examine in the following pages some of the most
important of the modifications which the paragraph imposes
upon the usual forms of sentences.

28. Inversion. — The most obvious of the modifications
which the paragraph may impose upon one of its sentences
is inversion. Any sentence which, if stated in its usual
order, would tend to obscure the main idea or would seem
for the ihoment to introduce a new topic, may have its parts
rearranged for the sake of preserving the unity and sequence
of the paragraph. This is illustrated in the following : —

For choice and pith of language he [Emerson] belongs to a
better age than ours, and might rub shoulders with Fuller and
Browne — though he does use that abominable word reliable. His
eye for a fine, telling phrase that will carry true is like that of a
backwoodsman for a rifle; and he will dredge you up a choice
word from the mud of Cotton Mather himself. A diction at once
80 rich and so homely as his I know not where to match in these
days of writing by the page; it is like homespun cloth-of-gold.

— Lowell : My Study Windows^

SENTENCE STRUCTURE. 51

In this paragraph, the topic, "Emerson's choice of lan-
guage," announced in the first sentence, occurs again near
the close of the second. The inversion in the third sentence
is solely determined by the need of keeping the topic promi-
nent. It brings together, in close juncture, the two things
that are alike in the last two sentences, the words choice
word and a diction, etc. This adjustment of the begin-
ning of one sentence to the end of the preceding sentence,
bringing similar ideas close together, is happily called '* the
echo." The echo is of great help to a good sequence and to
proper emphasis. One who uses the echo systematically will
not wander far from his subject without discovering that
unpleasant fact. In the following, it is the expression " to
do so " which required the inversion so that " to do so " might
be brought as close as possible to the words, "to repudiate,"
and " to disclaim."

It is among the most memorable facts of Grecian history that —
ill spite of the victory of Philip of Chaeroneia — . . . the Athenian
people could never be persuaded either to repudiate Demosthenes,
or to disclaim sympathy with his political policy. [Inversion]
How much art and ability were employed to induce them to do so, by his
numerous enemies, the speech of uEschines is enough to teach us.

— Grote : History of Greece,

29. Parallel Constraction. — The main idea sometimes de-
mands for itself the same place in all of a series of sen-
tences, in order to insure prominence by repetition and by
similarity of form and position. This gives rise to the
balancing of one part of a sentence against another. Bal-
anced structure is sometimes extended to clauses, phrases,
and even to single words. Paragraph requirements will
not often dictate this structure ; some writers employ it too
frequently. When whole sentences have this similarity
of form, the result is what is known as parallel construc-
tion. The following will illustrate all these varieties of
balance: —

62 THE PARAOBAPH.

Certainly, gentlemen, it ought to be the happiness and glory of
a representative to live in the strictest union, the closest corre-
spondence, and the most unreserved communication with his con-
stituents. Their wishes ought to have great weight with him;
their opinions high respect ; their business unremitted attention.
It is his duty to sacrifice his repose, his pleasure, his satisfactions,
to theirs, — and, above all, ever, and in all cases, to prefer their
interest to his own. But his unbiassed opinion, his mature judg-
ment, his enlightened conscience, he ought not to sacrifice to you,
to any man, or to any set of men living. These he does not derive
from your pleasure, — no, nor from the law and the Constitution.
They are a trust from Providence, for the abuse of which he is
deeply answerable. Your representative owes you, not his indus-
try only, but his judgment; and he betrays, instead of serving
you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion. My worthy colleague says,
his will ought to be subservient to yours. If that be all, the thing
is innocent. If government were a matter of will on any side,
yours, without question, ought to be superior. But government
and legislation are matters of, reason and judgment and not of
inclination ; and what sort of reason is that in which the deter-
mination precedes the discussion, in which one set of men deliber-
ate and another decide, and where those who form the conclusion
are perhaps three hundred miles from those who hear the argu-
ments? To deliver an opinion is the right of all men; that of
constituents is a weighty and respectable opinion, which a repre-
sentative ought always to rejoice to hear, and which he ought
always most seriously to consider. But authoritative instructions,
mandates issued, which the member is bound blindly and implicitly
to obey, to vote, and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest
conviction of his judgment and conscience, —these are things
utterly unknown to the laws of this land, and which arise from a
fundamental mistake of the whole order and tenor of our Consti-
tution. — Burke : Obedience to Instructions,

In the foregoing quotation, note that the details in the
first five sentences are stated by threes ; that the balanced
structure is extended even to the adjectives and the adver-
bial expressions ; that the details of one sentence, while cor-
responding in number and form to those of another, are in

SENTENCE STRUCTURE. 63

the order of climax ; that the inversion in sentence four is
made for the purpose of bringinj^ the details of that sen-^
tence as close as possible to the details with which they are
in contrast in the third sentence. Note that beginning
with the seventh sentence, the details occur by twos ; that
the ninth sentence is a short summary furnishing the basis
for the sentences that follow; that the repetition in the
thirteenth sentence is made for the purpose of bringing con-
trasting details in juxtaposition.

30. Repetition. — It has already been noted that the topic-
statement is sometimes repeated while the paragraph is de-
veloping. The theme of the paragraph will reappear in
various forms of expression at important points. These
forms may repeat the whole topic-statement, or only its sig-
nificant words; may repeat literally, or by means of equiva-
lent synonymous expressions. More often, the theme is
kept prominent by the use of pronouns and demonstrative
expressions. The following will illustrate : — •

[Topic] The great thing for us is to feel and enjoy his [the true
poet's] work as deeply as ever we can, and to appreciate the wide
difference between it and all work which has not the same high
character. This is what is salutary ; this is what is formative ; this
is the great benefit to be got from the study of poetry. Everything
which interferes with it, which hinders it, is injurious. True, we
must read our classic with open eyes, and not with eyes blinded with
superstition ; we must perceive when his work comes short, when it
drops out of the class of the very best, and we must rate it in such
cases, at its proper value. But the use of this negative criticism is
not in itself, it is entirely in its enabling us to have a clearer sense
and a deeper enjoyment of what is truly excellent. To trace the
labor, the attempts, the weaknesses, the failures of a genuine classic,
to acquaint oneself with his time and his life and his historical re-
lationships, is mere literary dilettantism unless it has that clear
sense and deeper enjoyment for its end. — Arnold : Introduction to
Wcard^s English Poets.

64 THE PABAOHAPH.

Notice also that in the example just quoted there is another
set of references to carry the thought back to the words,
^bis [the true poet's] work/

The need of closely watching the pronouns and demonstrative
words, while a paragraph is being written, cannot be emphasized
too much. When a word is employed to point back to some
other word or statement that precedes, the writer should
make sure that the reference is clear and explicit. The
little word it requires especial attention and care, in order
to avoid ambiguity. When used retrospectively, the word
it should be employed to refer to but one thing in the same
paragraph.

Other words useful at times for keeping the theme promi-
nent and for pointing back to something already said are,
this^ thaty these, those, the former, the latter, he, she, it, here,
there, hence, whence, hither, thither, thence, now, then. They
are called words of retrospective reference. The expressions,
it is, there are, first, secondly, etc., are sometimes used to point
forward to something that is to follow and are called words
of prospective reference.

31. Subordination. — In maintaining its prominence in a
paragraph the theme requires the subordination of all sub-
sidiary and modifying statements. This subordination need
not be indicated always by an introductory word ; for fre-
quently the thought itself is obviously subordinate. It is
not often necessary, for instance, to introduce a proof by the
word because or for; the hearer can generally supply these
words for himself. Still there are many cases in which
the thought requires that the subordination be plainly in-
dicated. Concessions leading up to a contrast usually re-
quire an introductory expression, such as, it is true, to he sure,
looking forward to a sentence beginning with still, hut, yet, or
however. Conditions usually need an introductory if, unless.
Degrees of subordination in thought are indicated by such

SENTENCE STB UCTURE. 55

words as at leasty probably, possibly, and perhaps, — which
require skilful placing. The longer expressions used for
subordination have been mentioned under Means of De-
veloping the Topic-Statement (§§ 18-26).

Such words as also, likewise, too, further, therefore^ conse-
quently, etc., may sometimes be needed for showing the
exact relation between the sentences which they introduce
and the main idea of the paragraph, and for making the
connection from sentence to sentence. It is quite easy to
use them in too great profusion. Far better than burdening
a paragraph with such words is the practice of making each
sentence the obvious outgrowth of the sentence that precedes
and the obvious preparation for the sentence that follows.

The paragraph quoted below shows a considerable number
of these words of reference, here printed in italics : —

Finally^ it is urged that the small number of editions through
which Shakespeare passed in the seventeenth century, furnishes a
separate argument, and a conclusive one, against his popularity.
We answer, that considering the bulk of his plays collectively, the
editions were not few ; compared with any known case, the copies
sold of Shakespeare were quite as many as could be expected under
the circumstances. . . . The truth is, we have not facts enough
to guide us; for the number of editions often tells nothing accu-
rately as to the number of copies. With respect to Shakespeare,
it is certain that, had his masterpieces been gathered into small vol-
umes, Shakespeare would have had a most extensive sale. As it
was, there can be no doubt that, from his own generation, throughout
the seventeenth century, and until the eighteenth began to accom-
modate, not any greater popularity in him, but a greater taste for
reading iu the public, his fame never ceased to be viewed as a
national trophy of honor. ... It is therefore a false notion
that the general sympathy with the merits of Shakespeare ever
beat with a languid or intermitting pulse. Undoubtedly, in times
when the functions of critical journals and of newspapers w«re not
at hand to diffuse or to strengthen the impressions which emanated
from the capital, all opinions must have travelled slowly into the
provinces.. But even then, whilst the perfect organs of communication

66 TEE PARAGRAPH.

were wanting, indirect substitutes were supplied by the necessities
of the times, or by the instincts of political zeal. Two channels
especially lay open between the great central organ of the national mind
and the remotest provinces. Parliaments were occasionally sum-
moned . . . the nobility continually resorted to the court. , . .
Academic persons stationed themselves as sentinels at London for
the purpose of watching the court and the course of public affairs.
These persons wrote letters . . . and thus conducted the general
feelings at the centre into lesser centres, from which again they were
diffused into the ten thousand parishes of England. ... And
by this mode of diffusion it is that we can explain the strength with
which Shakespeare's thoughts and diction impressed themselves
from a very early period upon the national literature, and even more
generally upon the national thinking and conversation.

— De Quincey : Biography of Shakespeare,

32. Pnnctaation. — The grammars and rhetorics, which
regard the sentence as the unit of discourse, give rules for
punctuation applying mainly to the proper pointing of the
various parts of a sentence. See Appendix E. Considering
the paragraph, however, as the true unit of discourse, we
are met by questions of punctuation which the rules usually
given do not answer. The rule tells us to put a period at
the close of every declarative sentence; but the important
question for the paragraph-writer often is. What is the
proper place at which to bring the sentence to a close ? In
the paragraph, not every statement is followed by a full
stop. Statements which standing alone would properly be
independent sentences, are frequently united into one sen-
tence, separated by semicolons or colons, when they become
part of a paragraph.

The rule dictated by paragraph-unity for the division of
a paragraph into sentences is that the full stops should be
placed at the close of the larger breaks in the thought.
What the sentence divisions shall be will depend upon the
meaning in each case ; uppn the need of giving prominence
to the chief assertion, and of keeping the other assertions

PUNCTUATION. 67

subordinate. If every assertion were followed by a full stop
the style would be too broken. A sentence in a paragraph
may contain a number of assertions if they are more closely
connected in thought than the matter of two successive sen-
tences. To illustrate : —

(1) The Commons denied the King's right to dispense, not
indeed with all penal statutes but with penal statutes in matters
ecclesiastical, and gave him plainly to understand that, unless he
renounced that right, they would grant no supply for the Dutch
war. (2) He, for a moment, showed some inclination to put
everything to hazard; but he was strongly advised by Lewis to
submit to necessity, and to wait for better times, when the French
armies, now employed in an arduous struggle on the continent,
might be available for the purpose of suppressing discontent in
England. (3) In the Cabal itself the signs of disunion and
treachery began to appear. (4) Shaftesbury, with his proverbial
sagacity, saw that a violent reaction was at hand, and that all
things were tending towards a crisis resembling that of 1640.
(5) He was determined that such a crisis should not find him
in the situation of Strafford. (6) He therefore turned suddenly
round, and acknowledged, in the House of Lords, that the Decla-
ration was illegal. (7) The King, thus deserted by his ally and
by his Chancellor, yielded, cancelled the Declaration, and solemnly
promised that it should never be drawn into precedent. — Macau-
lay: History of England, Vol. I., chap. ii.

The first sentence of the quotation above contains two
distinct assertions, which might, so far as ordinary rules of
punctuation go, form two distinct sentences ; but they are
more closely connected in thought than with the sentence
numbered (2) and so are properly united in one sentence.
Likewise, the two assertions in sentence (2) have to do with
one subject, " he," — the King, — and so are properly joined
in one sentence. Sentence (3) has a different subject and
properly stands alone. Sentences (4), (5), and (6) are on
one subject ; and (4) and (5) might have been united without
injury ; but (6), containing one of the most important asser-

58 THE PAItAGSAPH.

tions of the paragraph, required ohe distinction which sepa-
rate statement gives it. Sentence (7), being on a different
subject, is, of course, stated by itself.

A general statement containing the main idea may be
followed by a specific statement, with only a colon or semi-
colon separating the two. The same rule is followed when
the second statement gives a short reason, an example, a
qualification, a consequence, an explanation, or a repetition.
To illustrate : —

Now surely this ought not to be asserted, unless it can be
proved; we should speak with cautious reverence upon such a
subject. — Quoted by Bain : Rhetoric, p. 87.

Agriculture is the foundation of manufactures ; the productions
of nature are the materials of art. — Ibid,

M. Michelet, indeed, says that La Pucelle was not a shepherdess.
I beg his pardon : she was. What he rests upon, I guess pretty
well: it is the evidence of a woman called Haumette.

— De Quincey: Joan of Arc, p. 42.

With what reverence have I paced thy great bare rooms and
courts at eventide ! They spoke of the past : — the shade of some
dead accountant, with visionary pen in ear, would flit by me, stiff
as in life. — Lamb : Essays of Eiia, The South-Sea House,

The effect of the semicolon or colon used in this way is to
indicate the subordination of the second assertion, which has
less importance and prominence when attached to the main
proposition than if it should stand alone in a separate sen-
tence.

When a contrast, introduced usually by the word but,
is brief and is not to be dwelt upon, it is attached to the
main assertion after a colon or semicolon. When, however,
the assertion introduced by but is especially emphatic, or
is to be discussed further, it is usually given distinction by
being set off in a separate sentence. The following will
illustrate these two facts: — •

PUNCTUATION. 69

SomlB modern writers have blamed Halifax for continuing in
the ministry while he disapproved of the manner in which both
domestic and foreign affairs were conducted. But this censure is
unjust, — Macaulay : History of England, Vol. I., chap. iii.

There were undoubtedly scholars to whom the whole Greek
literature, from Homer to Photius, was familiar : hu such scholars
were to be found almost exclusively among the clergy resident at
the Universities. — lUd.

Thus emboldened, the King at length ventured to overstep the
bounds which he had during some years observed, and to violate
the plain letter of the law. The law was that not more than three
years should pass between the dissolving of one Parliament and
the convoking of another. But, when three years had elapsed
after the dissolution of the Parliament which sate at Oxford, no
writs were issued for an election. This infraction, etc. — Ihid.

It is not very easy to explain why the nation which was so far
before its neighbors in science should in art have been far behind
them. Yet such was the fact. It is true that in architecture . . .
our country could boast of one truly great man,^Christopher Wren ;
. . . But at the close of the reign of Charles the Second there was
not a single English painter or statuary whose name is now remem-
bered. This sterility, etc. — Ibid., chap. iii.

He acted at different times \5rith both the great political parties :
but he never shared in the passions of either. . . . His deportment
was remarkably grave and reserved : but his personal tastes were
low and frivolous. — Ibid,, chap. ii.

The same considerations of prominence, emphasis, and
length determine whether a reason introduced by for shall
be appended to the main statement or shall be given the^
distinction of a separate sentence. To illustrate: —

The commencement of the new system was, however, hailed with
general delight ; for the people were in a temper to think any change
an improvement. They were also pleased by some of the new nomi-
nations. — Macaulay : History of England, Vol. I., chap. ii.

France, indeed, had at that time an empire over mankind, such
as even the Roman Republic never attained. For, when Rome was

60 THE PARAGRAPH.

politically dominant, she was in arts and letters the humble pupil
of Greece. France had, over the surrounding countries, at once
the ascendency which Rome had over Greece and the ascendency
which Greece had over Rome. — Tbid., chap. iii.

A paragraph of details may group the details in a few
long sentences, the parts being divided by semicolons or
colons ; or each detail may be presented as a separate sen-
tence. The advantage of the former is that it better se-
cures unity of effect ; the advantage of the latter is that it
secures a more emphatic presentment of the details. A
combination of the two plans is advisable. They are illus-
trated in the following : —

France united at that time almost every species of ascendency.
Her military glory was at its height. She had vanquished mighty
coalitions. She had dictated treaties. She had subjugated great
cities and provinces. She had forced the Castilian pride to yield
her the precedence. She had summoned Italian princes to pros-
trate themselves at her footstool. — Ibid,

The interest which the populace took in him whom they regarded
as the champion of the true religion and the rightful heir of the
British throne, was kept up by every artifice. When Monmouth
arrived in London at midnight, the watchmen were ordered by the
magistrates to proclaim the joyful event through the streets of the
city : the people left their beds : bonfires were lighted : the win-
dows were illuminated : the churches were opened : and a merry
peal rose from all the steeples. — Ibid,

The following selections are cited as examples of logical
paragraphic division into sentences, in which the punctua-
tion is a decided help to clearness of presentation, and assists,
to a marked degree, in keeping the main subject prominent
and lesser details subordinate: —

Lawrence Hyde was the second son of the Chancellor Clarendon,
and was brother of the first Duchess of York. He had excellent
parts, which had been improved by parliamentary and diplomatic
experience ; but the infirmities of his temper detracted much from

PUNCTUATION. 61

the effective strength of his abilities. Negotiator and courtier as
he was, he never learned the art of governing or of concealing his
emotions. When prosperous, he was insolent and boastful : when
he sustained a check, his undisguised mortification doubled the
triumph of his enemies: very slight provocations sufficed to kindle
his auger; and when he was angry he said bitter things which he
forgot as soon as he was pacified, but which others remembered
many years. His quickness and penetration would have made him
a consummate man of business but for his self-sufficiency and
impatience. His writings proved that he had many of tlie quali-
ties of an orator-, but his irritability prevented him from doing
himself justice in debate; for nothing was easier than to goad him
into a passion; and, from the moment wlien he went into a passion,
he was at the mercy of opponents far inferior to him in capacity.

— /fcirf., chap. ii.

Whenever the arts and labors of life are fulfilled in this spirit
of striving against misrule, and doing whatever we have to do,
honorably and perfectly, they invariably bring liappiness, as much
as seems possible to the nature of man. In all other paths, by
which that happiness is pursued, there is disappointment, or de-
stiTiction: for ambition and for passion there is no rest — no frui-
tion ; the fairest pleasures of youth perish in a darkness greater
than their past light ; and tlie loftiest and purest love too often
does but inflame tlie cloud of life with endless fire of pain. But,
ascending from lowest to highest, through every scale of human
industry, that industry worthily followed, gives peace. Ask the
laborer in the field, at the forge, or in the mine; ask the patient,
delicate-fingered artisan, or the strong-armed, fiery-hearted worker
in bronze, and in marble, and with the colors of light ; and none of
these, who are true workmen, will ever tell you, that they have
found the law of heaven an unkind one — that in the sweat of
their face they should eat bread, till they return to the ground ;
nor that they ever found it an unrewarded obedience, if, indeed, it
was rendered faithfully to the command — " Whatsoever thy hand
findeth to do, do it with thy might." — Ruskin : The Mystery of
Life, § 128.

62 THE PABAQRAPH.

Types of Pabagbaph Stbuctubb.

33. The illustrative paragraphs quoted in the preceding
pages have been sufficient to show that there are many dis-
tinct types of paragraph structure. Under the heading,
Means of Developing the Paragraph-theme, the various
expedients have been pointed out, by which the theme may
be effectively presented and wrought out in detail. We
shall now name and illustrate some of the paore important
types of structure in the isolated paragraph which result
from the character of the theme as Expository, Argumenta-
tive, Descriptive, or Narrative.

34. Expository and Argpimentative. — This type is devoted
to explaining and expounding an idea or to proving a propo-
sition. It is the type in which regular structure is most
obvious. It may employ one or several of the means of
developing the theme, according to the nature of the theme
and to the method of treatment demanded. In some cases
a strictly logical plan is needed ; in others a less formal
method will be better.

35. The Logical Type. — There are two orders of progress
in thought, one proceeding from the statement of a general
principle to particular applications of the principle (deduc-
tive reasoning), the other proceeding from the statement of
particular facts to a general conclusion from those facts
(inductive reasoning). In deductive reasoning, the general
principle (stated usually at the beginning) is applied in the
particulars ; in inductive reasoning the general principle (stated
usually at the end) is inferred from the particulars, as a con-
clusion. In a deductive paragraph, as would be expected,
the sentences applying the principle to the particular case in
hand, usually follow the topic-statement, which announces
the principle. In an inductive paragraph the sentences

TYPES OF PARAGBAPB aTRUCTVBE. 63

stating the particular facts usually precede the topic-state-
ment, which gives the general conclusion.

36. Deductive. — It is evident from the nature of deduc-
tion that the means of development which it most often
employs will be those indicated and illustrated under the
headings, Presenting Reasons, Applying a Principle (see
Means of Developing the Paragraph-theme, §§ 22,23). For
deduction has for its standard of reasoning, this maxim:
Whatever is affirmed or denied tiaithfully of a whole class,
may be affirmed or denied truthfully in like manner of
everything comprehended under that class. To illustrate : —

[Principle] Wlieresoever the search after truth begins, there life
begins; wheresoever that search ceases, there life ceases. [Appli-
cation] As long as a school of art holds any chain of natural facts,
trying to discover more of them and express them better daily, it
may play hither and thither as it likes on this side of the chain or
on that ; it may design gi^otesques and conventionalisms, build up
the simplest buildings, serve the most practical utilities, yet all it
does will be gloriously designed and gloriously done; but let it
once quit hold of the chain of natural fact, cease to pursue that as
a clew to its work ; let it purpose to itself any other end than
preaching this living word, and think first of showing its own skill
or its own fancy, and from that hour its fall is precipitate, — its
destruction sure ; nothing that it does or designs will ever have life
or loveliness in it more ; its hour has come and there is no work
nor device nor knowledge nor wisdom in the grave whither it
goetli. — Ruskin: The Grounds of ArU

Nihilism, so far as one can find out, expresses rather a method,
or a means, than an end. It is difficult to say just what Nihilism
does imply. So much appears reasonably certain — [General state-
ment] that the primary object of the Nihilists is destruction ; [Par-
ticulars] that the abolition of the existing order, not the construction
of a new order, is in their view; that, whatever their ulterior de-
signs, or whether or no they have any ultimate purpose in which
they are all or generally agreed, the one object which now draws
and holds them together, in spite of all the terrors of arbitrary

64 THE PARAGRAPH.

power, is the abolition, not only of all existing governments, bat
of all political estates, all institutions, all privileges, all forms of
authority ; and that to this is postponed whatever plans, purposes,
or wishes the confederation, or its members individually, may
cherish concerning the reorganization of society. — Francis A.
Walker: Socialism.

37. Inductive. — From the nature of induction, it is evi-
dent that the means of development which it employs most
often are those indicated and illustrated under the headings,
Particulars and Details, and Cause and Effect (see Means
of Developing the Paragraph-theme, §§ 19, 25), The
other means of development, repetition, contrast, definition,
comparison and illustration, specific instances and examples,
are used in paragraphs of both orders, as occasion may re-
quire. The following illustrate the inductive order : —

Sir, whilst we held this happy course, [Particulars] we drew
more from the Colonies than all the impotent violence of despotism
ever could extort from them. We did this abundantly in the last
war. It has never been once denied ; and what reason have we to
imagine that the Colonies would not have proceeded in supplying
government as liberally, if you had not stepped in and hindered
them from contributing, by interrupting the channel in which their
liberality flowed with so strong a course ; by attempting to take,
instead of being satisfied to receive? Sir William Temple says
that Holland has loaded itself with ten times the impositions,
which it revolted from Spain, rather than submit to. He says
true. [General conclusion] Tyranny is a poor provider. It knows
neither how to accumulate, nor how to extract. — Burke : American
Taxation f p. 158 (Payne's ed.).

Is it better to place the adjective before the substantive, or the
substantive before the adjective? Ought we to say with the
French — un cheval noir; or to say as we do — a black horse?
[Particulars from which conclusion is to be drawn] Probably most
persons of culture would decide that one order is as good as the
other. Alive to the bias produced by habit, they would ascribe to
that the preference they feel for our owii form of expression.

TYPES OF PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE. 65

They would expect those educated in the use of the opposite form
to have an equal preference for that. And thus they would con-
clude that neither of these instinctive judgments is of any worth.
There is, however, a philosophical ground for deciding in favor
of the English custom. If "a horse black" be the arrangement,
immediately on the utterance of the word " horse," there arises, or
tends to arise, in the mind, a picture answering to that word ; and
as there has been nothing to indicate what kind of horse, any
image of a horse suggests itself. Very likely, however, the image
will be that of a brown horse, brown horses being the most famil-
iar. The result is that when the word " black " is added, a check
is given to the process of thought. Either the picture of a brown
horse already present to the imagination has to be suppressed, and
the picture of a black one summoned in its place ; or else, if the
picture of a brown horse be yet unformed, the tendency to form it
has to be stopped. Whichever is the case, a certain amount of
hindrance results. But if, on the other hand, ** a black horse " be
the expression used, no such mistake can be made. The word
" black," indicating an abstract quality, arouses no definite idea.
It simply prepares the mind for conceiving some object of that
color; and the attention is kept suspended until that object is
known. [Conclusion] If, then, by the precedence of the adjective,
the idea is conveyed without liability to error, whereas the prece-
dence of the substantive is apt to produce a misconception, it follows
that the one gives the mind less trouble than the other, and is
therefore more forcible. — Spencer : Philosophy of Style.

[Particulars from which conclusion is to be drawn] We do not
notice the ticking of the clock, the noise of the city streets, or the
roaring of the brook near the house ; and even the din of a laundry
or factory will not mingle with the thoughts of its workers, if they
have been there long enough. When we first put on spectacles,
especially if they be of certain curvatures, the bright reflections
they give of the windows, etc., mixing with the field of view, are
very disturbing. In a few days we ignore them altogether. . . .
The pre&sure of our clothes and shoes, the beating of our hearts
and arteries, our breathing, certain steadfast bodily pains, habitual
odors, tastes in the mouth, etc., are examples from other senses
of [Conclusion] the same lapse into unconsciousness of any too

66 THE PABAQRAPH.

unchanging content — a lapse which Hobbes has expressed in the
well-known phrase, " Semper idem sentire ac non sentire ad idem
revertunt." — James, Psychology, Vol. 11., p. 455.

38. The Less Formal Types. — All paragraphs, whatever
their method of construction, might be classitied either as
deductive or as inductive, and there would be room for con-
siderable casuistry in determining under which head many
paragraphs would fall. The fact that it is extremely diffi-
cult to find examples of paragraphs which are undeniably
deductive or clearly inductive indicates a close relationship
between the two orders and their constant intermingling
in the mind. As a matter of fact, the two progressions
are always combined in thought. In putting his mental
procedure into language, however, the writer may pursue a
variety of methods. He may (1) suppress the inductive
operations which have gone on in his mind while thinking
on the subject in hand, (2) suppress the deductive opera-
tions, (3) mingle the two. The tendency in good prose is
always to mingle the two orders of thought. Thus in a
paragraph which is clearly deprived of most of the deduc-
tive features, the conclusion may yet be stated first. In a
paragraph deprived of most of the inductive features, the
general principle may still be stated, or restated, at the
close. In other cases one progression will succeed another
at intervals throughout the paragraph.

This intermingling of deduction and induction which is
seen in almost all paragraphs of an expository and argu-
mentative character gives a less formal appearance to para-
graphs of this kind. For purposes of illustration, therefore,
all expository and argumentative paragraphs which are not
exclusively deductive or exclusively inductive are here
brought under the title of Hess formal types.'

39. Paragraphs of Definition. — A whole paragraph may
be devoted to defining the subject. Some terms require a

TYPES OF PARAORAPH STRUCTURE. 67

careful statement of their scope. A term is defined not
only by giving its etymology, a history of its changes in
meaning, and its current uses, but by giving its applications
to various departments of thought. In the following quota-
tion, Sir William Hamilton defines the term Philosophy: —

Tiiere are two questions to be answered : 1st, What is the mean-
ing of the name t and 2d, What is the meaning of the thing t An
answer to the former question is afforded in a nominal definition
of the term philosophy, and in a history of its employment and ap-
plication. In regard to the etymological signification of jihe word,
Philosophy is a term of Greek origin. It is a compound of ^tAx>s,
a lover or friend, and o-o^ia, wisdom — speculative wisdom. Phi-
losophy is thus, literally, a love of wisdom. ... It is probable, I
think, that Socrates was the first who adopted, or at least the first
who familiarized, the expression. It was natural that he should
be anxious to contradistinguish himself from the Sophists (ot
o-o<^oi, ol (ro<l>i<TTcu), literally, the wise men; and no term could
more appropriately ridicule the arrogance of these pretenders, or
afford a happier contrast to their haughty designation, than that
of philosopher (i.e. the lover of wisdom); and, at the same time, it
is certain that the substantives <^iA.oa-o<^ia and ^iA.oo'o<^os first
appear in the writings of the Socratic school. It is true, indeed,
that the verb <^iA.oa-o<^ctv is found in Herodotus, in the address by
Croesus to Solon; and that, too, in a participial ft)rm, to designate
the latter as a man who had traveled abroad for the purpose of
acquiring knowledge. It is, therefore, not impossible that, before
the time of Socrates, those who devoted themselves to the pursuit
of the higher branches of knowledge were occasionally designated
philosophers: but it is far more probable that Socrates and his
school first appropriated the term as a distinctive appellation ; and
that the word philosophy, in consequence of this appropriation,
came to be employed for the complement of all higher knowledge,
and, more especially, to denote the science conversant about the prin-
ciples or causes of existence. The term philosophy, I may notice,
which was originally assumed in modesty, soon lost its Socratic
and etymological signification, and returned to the meaning of
(ro<l>ULt or wisdom. Quintilian calls it nomen insolentissimum ; Sen-
eca, nomen invidiosum; Epictetus counsels his scholars not to call

68 TEE PABAGBAPH.

themselves < Philosophers ' ; and proud is one of the most ordinary
epithets with which philosophy is now associated.

The following paragraph is a definition of the term Public
Duty: —

By the words public duty I do not necessarily mean official duty,
although it may include that. I mean simply that constant and
active practical participation in the details of politics without which,
upon the part of the most intelligent citizens, the conduct of public
affairs falls under the control of selfish and ignorant, or crafty and
venal men. I mean that personal attention which, as it must be
incessant, is often wearisome and even repulsive, to the details of
politics, attendance at meetings, service upon committees, care and
trouble, and expense of many kinds, patient endurance of rebuffs,
chagrins, ridicules, disappointments, defeats — in a word, all those
duties and services which, when selfishly and meanly performed,
stigmatize a man as a mere politician, but whose constant, honor-
able, intelligent, and vigilant performance is the gradual building,
stone by stone, and layer by layer, of that great temple of self-
restrained liberty which all generous souls mean that our govern-
ment shall be. — G. W. Curtis : The Public Duty of Educated Men.

40. Paragraphs of Specific Instances. — This is one of
the most common types of paragraph, consisting simply of
the topic-statement followed by one or more instances. In the
first paragraph following there are two instances ; one the
case of the Columbia River, the other the case of the Mis-
souri. The word illustration is used in its popular sense,
not in its technical sense ; strictly speaking it should be «V
stanjce. In the second paragraph below (from De Quincey)
the instances are given in the second and fourth sentences.
In the third quotation we have a paragraph that combines
reasons, example, and application.

If every drop of water which falls on the mountain summits
could be utilized, it is not likely that more than ten per cent of the
total area of the arid West could be irrigated, and it is certain that,
because of physical obstacles, it will never be possible to get water

TYPES OF PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE. 69

to even this small percentage. As an illustration of what is meant
by this it may be stated that the Columbia River is from three
huudred to fifteen hundred feet below the surface of the bordering
arid table-land in northeastern Washington. It would be imprac-
ticable to raise its water to the lands requiring irrigation. Through-
out a large part of its course in Montana and the Dakotas, the
Missouri River flows in a deep channel, and as it falls only two or
three feet per mile, the elevation of its water to the level of the
land which might be irrigated is at present practically impossible,
because the work necessary for such utilization will cost more than
the land and the water are worth. — Mead : Irrigation Institutions, p. 5.

The sense of space, and in the end the sense of time, were both
powerfully affected. Buildings, landscapes, etc., were exhibited in
proportions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive. Space
swelled, and was amplified to an extent of unutterable infinity.
This, however, did not disturb me so much as the vast expansion
of time. I sometimes seemed to have lived for seventy or one
hundred years in one night ; nay, sometimes had feelings represent-
ative of a millennium, passed in that time, or, however, of a duration
far beyond the limits of any human expeiience. — De Quincey:
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater.

[Topic-statement] We are by no means sure that the refusal of
the authorities to permit the public meeting was well advised. . . .
[Reasons] To suppress such a gathering, to forbid men to air their
grievances and propose their panaceas, will not in the least abate
the discontent or allay the irritation. Men who are out of work,
who have a grudge against the existing order, are easily provoked
to violence ; but there is no surer provocative than to deny them
free speech. An incendiary orator may set them off; forcible re-
pression by the clubs of the police is almost sure to do so. If you
want an explosion, hang the monkey-wrench on the safety-valve
and crowd on full steam ; if you want to avoid an explosion, open
some vent and blow off steam. [Application] Hence the authori-
ties should adopt the policy of suppression only as a last desperate
resort in an extraordinary crisis. This advice is not doctrinaire;
it is the fruit of experience. [Example] Of the great cities of
the world, London is the one which suffers least from the agitation
of anarchists and the outbreaks of the mob. And the reason, we

70 THE PARAOBAPH.

are convinced, is that the police there interfere as little as possible
with public gatherings. In Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park, and
other great open spaces large crowds gatlier to listen to agitators
of all sorts. Plenty of police are on hand to exercise restraint in
case of need. The law in England, as in this country, is clear and
explicit with regard to incitements to disorder and to murder;
and the speakers who cross the line may be arrested and brought
to account. But the authorities exercise a large and indeed
generous tolerance. . . • [Application] Force is a feeble weapon in
dealing with unrest and agitation. ... If we cannot marshal ar-
guments to destroy the fallacies and the half-truths upon which
the structure of socialistic and anarchistic theory rests, our case is
hopeless. Argument with ignorant, hungry, and excited men is,
obviously, a formidable undertaking ; but still it is the only method
in a free country like this. Certainly, the clubs of the police will
never put sound ideas into people's heads. Reason, coolness, and
forbearance on the part of men of intelligence are what the hour
calls for. — iV^. Y. Evening Post, March 30,1908.

41. Paragraphs of IHnstration. — A paragraph may con-
sist simply of topic-statement and illustration. When well-
chosen, the illustration running through the paragraph gives
it unity and clearness in a high degree.

The poet is like a bee. His product is a honey, which is neither
wholly his own nor wholly nature's. No pure nectar of flowers may
be found in the bee's comb ; the amber richness garnered there is
a distillation of composite nature, a brew of flower-life and bee-life
indescribably characteristic of both flower and bee. This is the
formula for genuine originality — the personal quality of genius
inseparably blent with the finest and rarest extracts of nature. A
clear distinction may easily be made between what is written merely
about nature and what is distilled from nature in the alembic of
genius. The former may be attractive reading, the latter has for
its distinction the haunting and tantalizing flavor of indiscoverable,
immanent freshness. — Maurice Thompson : Independent^ Feb. 2,
1899.

The foundation is to the wall what the paw is to an animal. It
is a long foot, wider than the wall, on which the wall is to stand,

TYPES OF. PABAGBAPH STRUCTURE. 71

and which keeps it from settling into the ground. It is most nec-
.essary that this great element of security should be visible to the
eye, and therefore made a part of the structm'e above ground.
Sometimes, indeed, it becomes incorporated with the entire founda-
tion of the building, a vast table on which walls or piers are alike
set: but even then, the eye, taught by the reason, requires some
additional preparation of foot for the wall, and the building is felt
to be imperfect without it. This foundation we shall call the Base
of the wall. — Ruskin : Stones of Venice, Vol. I., p. 64.

42. Paragraphs of Causes and Besnlts. — A paragraph
may consist of a topic-statement> followed by an explana-
tion of the causes as in the first quotation below ; or, the
topic-statement may give the cause, and the remainder of
the paragraph the result, as in the second quotation below.

[Topic] Three causes combine to create among American
women an average of literary taste and influence higher than that
of women in any European country. These are, the educational
facilities they enjoy, the recognition of the equality of the sexes in
the whole social and intellectual sphare, and the leisure which they
possess as compared with men. [Explanation of the causes] In
a country where men are incessantly occupied at their business or
profession, the function of keeping up the level of culture devolves
upon women. It is safe in their hands. They are quick and keen-
witted, less fond of open-air life and physical exertion than Eng-
lishwomen are, and obliged by the climate to pass a greater part
of their time under shelter from the cold of winter and the sun of
summer. For music and for the pictorial arts they do not yet seem
to have formed so strong a taste as for literature, partly perhaps,
owing to the fact that in America the opportunities of seeing and
hearing masterpieces, except indeed operas, are rarer than in
Europe. But they are eager and assiduous readers of all such
books and periodicals as do not presuppose special knowledge in
some branch of science or learning, while the number who have
devoted themselves to some special study and attained proficiency
in it is large. The fondness for sentiment, especially moral and
domestic sentiment, which is often observed as characterizing
American taste in literature, seems to be mainly due to the

72 THE PABAORAPH^

influence of women, for they form not only the larger part of the
reading public, but an indepeudent>minded part, not disposed to .
adopt the canons laid down by men, and their preferences count
for more in the opinions and predilections of the whole nation
than is the case in England. Similarly the number of women
who write is infinitely larger in America than in Europe. Fiction,
essays, and poetry are naturally their favourite provinces. In
poetry more particularly, many whose names are quite unknown
in Europe have attained widespread fame. — Bryce : The American
Commonwealth^ 3d ed.. Vol. II., p. 741.

[Topic] The true function of reservoirs is to act as regulators ;
to hold back the water which would otherwise run to waste, when
it is not needed, and supply it to irrigators in times of scarcity.
[Result] When this is done, the stored water will supplement that
which can be taken by direct diversion. With some irrigators the
natural flow will supply nearly all their needs ; stored water will
only be required for a brief period, — perhaps for a week, perhaps
only for a single day. Others with later rights in the stream will
have to draw more largely on the stored supply, but none need
rely entirely upon it if streams are used to the best advantage.

— Mead : Irrigation Institutions.

43. Descriptive and Narrative Paragraphs. — In para-
graphs of this kind the plan is not so easily seen, for in
these paragraphs the sequence is determined not solely by
the logical order of thought, but by the nature of the object
described or the event narrated. It may have to deal with
seemingly unrelated particulars. These, however, may be
grouped so as to produce a single effect on the mind. A
building is something more than foundations, walls, roof,
door, and windows. It has a meaning as a whole to which
these in their united capacities contribute. A series of
events, taken singly, are without significance unless reported
with their total meaning as a group clearly in mind.

In the following descriptive paragraph from Ruskin
{Proeterita, Vol, II., chap, v.) notice how the comparison of

TYPES OF PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE. 73

the river Rhone to a wave (the theme) binds all the details
into a unified whole : —

Waves of clear sea are, indeed, lovely to watch, but they are al-
ways comiog or gone, never in any taken shape to be seen for a
second. But here was one mighty wave [The Rhone] that was
always itself, and every fluted swirl of it, constant as the wreathing
of a shell. No wasting away of the fallen f oara, no pause for gather-
ing of power, no helpless ebb of discouraged recoil ; but alike
through bright day and lulling night, the never-pausing plunge and
never-fading flash, and never-hushing whisper, and, while the sun
was up, the ever-answering glow of unearthly aquamarine, ultra-
marine, violet blue, gentian blue, peacock blue, river-of-paradise
blue, glass of a painted window melted in the sun, and the witch
of the Alps flinging the spun tresses of it forever from her snow.

In the following narrative paragraph notice that the nar-
rative details are grouped about the character description,
which is here placed in brackets. The particulars are all
colored by the writer's evident sympathy with the King.

Charles appeared before the Court only to deny its competence
and to refuse to plead ; but thirty -two witnesses were examined to
satisfy the consciences of his judges, and it was not till the fifth
day of the trial that he was condemned to death as a tyrant, traitor,
murderer, and enemy of his country. The popular excitement had
vented itself in cries of " Justice," or " God save your Majesty," as
the trial went on, but all save the loud outcries of the soldiers was
hushed as Charles passed to receive his doom. [The dignity which
he had failed to preserve in his long jangling with Bradshaw and
the judges returned at the call of death. Whatever had been the
faults and follies of his life, he " nothing common did, or mean, upon
that memorable scene."] Two masked executioners awaited the
King as he mounted the scaffold, which had been erected outside
one of the windows of the Banqueting House at Whitehall ; the
streets and roofs were thronged with spectators ; and a strong body
of soldiers stood drawn up beneath. His head fell at the first
blow, and as the executioner lifted it to the sight of all, a groan of
pity and horror burst from the silent crowd. — Green, Short History.

74 THU PAUAGBAPH.

44. Paragraphs of Incident. — Paragraphs of simple inci-
dent are a very common type ; they are often very skilfully
done in the daily newspapers. In novels some of the most
memorable passages are paragraphs embodying single in-
cidents.

[In his chapter on " Personal Experience and Review " Stevenson
t«lls how educated men that are lazy do so much homage to in-
dustry as to persuade themselves that they are industrious. " But,"
he continues, " the average mechanic recognizes his idleness with
effrontery ; he has even, as I am told, organized it."]

I give the story as it was told to me, and it w as told me for
a fact. A man fell from a housetop in the city of Aberdeen, and
was brought into hospital with broken bones. He was asked what
was his trade, and replied that he was a tapper. No one had ever
heard of such a thing before ; the officials were filled with curiosity ;
they besought an explanation. It appeared that when a party of
slaters were engaged upon a roof, they would now and then be taken
with a fancy for the public-house. Now a seamstress, for example,
might slip away from her work and no one be the wiser ; but if
these fellows adjourned, the tapping of the mallets would cease,
and thus the neighborhood be advertised of their defection.
Hence the career of the tapper. He has to do the tapping and
keep up an industrious bustle on the housetop during the absence
of the slaters. When he taps for only one or two the thing is
child's-play, but when he has to represent a whole troop, it is then
that he earns his money in the sweat of his brow. Then must
he bound from spot to spot, reduplicate, triplicate, sexdupli-
cate his single personality, and swell and hasten his blows, until
he produce a perfect illusion for the ear, and you would swear
that a crowd of emulous masons were continuing merrily to roof
the house. It must be a strange sight from an upper window.
— Stevenson : The Amateur Emigrant.

The fact that armed persons were still abroad, thieves or
assassins, lurking under many disguises, might explain what hap-
pened on the last evening of their time together, when they sat
late at the open windows as the night increased, serene but covered
summer night, aromatic, velvet-footed. What coolness it had was

TYPES OF PABAGBAPH STBUCTUBE. 75

pleasant after the wine ; and they strolled out, fantastically muffled
in certain old heraldic dresses of parade, caught up in the hall as
they passed through. ... In about an hoar's time they returned,
not a little disconcerted, to tell a story. . . . Listening for the
night-hawk, pushing aside the hedge-row to catch the evening
breath of the honeysuckle, they had sauntered on, scarcely looking
in advance, along the causeway. Soft sounds came out of the dis-
tance, but footsteps on the hard road they had not heard, when
three others fronted them face to face — Jasmin, Amad^e, and
Camille — their very selvas, visible in the light of the lantern car-
ried by Camille: they might have felt the breath upon their
cheeks: real, close, definite, cap for cap, plume for plume, flower
for flower, a light like their own flashed up counter-wise, but with
blood, all three of them, fresh upon the bosom, or in the mouth.
It was well to draw the sword, be one's enemy carnal or spiritual ;
even devils, as wise men know, taking flight at its white glitter
through the air. Out flashed the brave youths* swords, still with
mimic counter-motion, upon nothing — upon the empty darkness
before them. — Pater : Gaston de Latour, p. 96.

A butcher was brought into a druggist's shop (at Edinburgh)
from the market-place opposite, laboring under a terrible accident.
The man, on trying to hook up a heavy piece of meat above his
head, slipped, and the sharp hook penetrated his arm, so that he
himself was suspended. On being examined, he was pale, almost
pulseless, and expressed himself as suffering acute agony. The
arm could not be moved without causing excessive pain, and in
cutting off the sleeve he frequently cried out ; yet when the arm
was exposed it was found to be quite uninjured, the hook having
only traversed the sleeve of his coat.

A lady who was spending the summer at Margate, went to the
market for the purpose of purchasing a goose. There were but
two in the whole place, offered for sale by a girl of fourteen, who
refused to part with one without the other, assigning no other
reason for her obstinacy than that it was her mother's order.
Not wishing for two geese, the lady at first declined the purchase,
but at last finding no other was to be had, and recollecting that a
neighbor might be prevailed upon to take one off her hands, she
concluded the bargain. Having paid for and secured the pair.

76 THE PARAGRAPH.

she asked the girl at parting if she knew her mother's reason for
the directions she had given. "Oh, yesl mistress," answered the
young poultry-merchant readily, " mother said that they had lived
together eleven years, and it would be a sin and a shame to part
them now."

45. Descriptive Sketches. — The following will illustrate
the brief descriptive sketch at its best. In the first it is
the idea of grandeur running through all of the details that
produces the effect of unity. In the second selection the
details of the picture are united by the road which one is
imagined to follow.

There were usually at Burbeck many things taking place at
once ; so that wherever else, on such occasions, tea might be served,
it went forward with matchless pomp, weather permitting, on a
shaded stretch of one of the terraces and in presence of one of the
prospects. Shirley Sutton, moving, as the afternoon waned, more
restlessly about and mingling in dispersed groups only to find they
had nothing to keep him quiet, came upon it as he turned a corner
of the house — saw it seated there in all its state. It might be
said that at Burbeck it was, like everything else, made the most
of. It constituted immediately, with multiplied tables and glitter-
ing plate, with rugs and cushions and ices and fruit and wonderful
porcelain and beautiful women, a scene of splendor, almost an in-
cident of grand opera. One of the beautiful women might quite
have been expected to rise with a gold cup and a celebrated song.

— James : The Better Sort,

The road to Hermiston runs for a great part of the way up the
valley of a stream, a favorite with anglers and with midges, full
of falls and pools, and shaded by willows and natural woods of
birch. Here and there, but at great distances, a byway branches
off, and a great farmhouse may be descried above in a fold of the
hill; but the more part of the time, the road would be quite
empty of passage and the hills of habitation. Hermiston parish is
one of the least populous in Scotland ; and, by the time you came
that length, you would scarce be surprised at the inimitable small-
ness of the kirk, a dwarfish, ancient place seated for fifty, and

TYPES OF PABAOBAPH 8TBUCTUBE. 77

standing in a green by the bnm-side among two-score gravestones.
The manse close by, although no more than a cottage, is sur-
rounded by the brightness of a flower-garden and the straw roofs
of bees; and the whole colony, kirk and manse, garden and grave-
yard, finds harborage in a grove of rowans, and is all the year
round in a great silence broken only by the drone of the bees, the
tinkle of the burn, and the bell on Sundays. A mile beyond the
kirk the road leaves the valley by a precipitous ascent, and brings
you a little after to the place of Hermiston, where it comes to an
end in the back-yard before the coach-house. All beyond and
about is the great field of the hills ; the plover, the curlew, and the
lark cry there; the wind blows as it blows in a ship's rigging,
hard and cold and pure ; and the hill-tops huddle one behind an-
other like a herd of cattle into the sunset. — Stevenson : Weir of
Hermiston,

Three ordinary men would have quarrelled through sheer bore-
dom before they reached Southampton. We, by virtue of our
craft, were anything but ordinary men. A large percentage of the
tales of the world are common property coming of a common
stock. We told them all, as a matter of form, with all their local
and specific variants which are surprising. Then came, in the
intervals of steady card-play, more personal histories of adventure
and things seen and reported : panics among white folk, when the
blind terror ran from man to man on the Brooklyn bridge, and
the people crushed each other to death they knew not why ; fires,
and faces that opened and shut their mouths horribly at red-hot
window-frames ; wrecks in frost and snow, reported from the sleet-
sheathed rescue tug at the risk of frost-bite; long rides after
diamond thieves ; skirmishes on the veldt and in municipal com-
munities with the Boers ; glimpses of lazy, tangled Cape politics
and the mule rule in the Transvaal ; card-tales, horse-tales, woman-
tales by the score and the half hundred; till the first mate, who
had seen more than us all put together, but lacked words to clothe
his tales with, sat open-mouthed far into the dawn. — Kipling :
A Matter of Fact (Many Inventions).

The statuette, in bronze, something more than two feet high,
represented a naked youth drinking from a gourd. The attitude
was perfectly simple. The lad was squarely planted on his feet,

78 THE PARAGRAPH.

with his legs a little apart; his back was slightly hollowed, his
head thrown back; his hands were raised to support the rustic
cup. There was a loosened fillet of wild flowers about his head,
and his eyes, under their drooped lids, looked straight into the cup.
On the base was scratched the Greek word Ai^a, Thirst. The
figure might have been some beautiful youth of ancient fable —
Hylas or Narcissus, Paris or Endymion. Its beauty was the
beauty of natural movement; nothing had been sought to be rep-
resented but the perfection of an attitude. This had been atten-
tively studied — it was exquisitely rendered. Rowland demanded
more light, dropped his head on this side and that, uttered vague
exclamations. He said to himself, as he had said more than once
in the Louvre and the Vatican, " We ugly mortals, what beautiful
creatures we are I " — James : Roderick Hudson.

46. Portrait Sketches. — Two varieties of descriptive par-
agraphs merit special attention. These are portrait sketches
and character descriptions. The simplest form of portrai-
ture gives a mere catalogue of features. A higher form adds
to this the mention of accessories, as of clothes, and scraps of
conversation. A still higher type imputes to the subject of
the sketch personal qualities that put a meaning into the
features described — makes the face tell the story* of the
life. The various kinds run into one another, and all may
be employed in the same sketch. The following paragraphs
will illustrate: —

Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was a lantern-faced, sallow-complexioned
man, of about five-and-forty, or — as the novels say — he might be
fifty. He had that dull-looking boiled eye which is so often to be
seen in the heads of people who have applied themselves during
many years to a weary and laborious course of study; and which
would have been sufficient, without the additional eye-glass which
dangled from a broad black riband round his neck, to warn a
stranger that he was very near-sighted. His hair was thin and
weak, which was partly attributable to his having never devoted
much time to its arrangement, and partly to his having worn for
^ve-and-twenty years the forensic wig which hung on a block

TYPES OF PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE. 79

beside him. The marks of hair-powder on his coat-collar, and the
ill-washed and worse-tied white neckerchief round his throat,
showed that he had not found leisure since he left the court to
make any alteration in his dress : while the slovenly style of the
remainder of his costume warranted the inference that his per-
sonal appearance would not have been very much improved if he
had. Books of practice, heaps of papers, and open letters were
scattered over the table, without any attempt at order or arrange-
ment; the furniture of the room was old and rickety; the doors
of the book-case were rotting in their hinges; the dust flew out
from the carpet in little clouds at every step; the blinds were
yellow with age and dirt ; and the state of everything in the room
showed, with a clearness not to be mistaken, that Mr. Serjeant
Snubbin was far too much occupied with his professional pursuits
to take any great heed or regard of his personal comforts.

— Dickens: Pickwick Papers,

To me it is a most touching face ; perhaps of all faces that I
know, the most so. Lonely there, painted as on vacancy, with
the simple laurel wound round it, the deathless sorrow and pain,
the known victory which is also deathless; — significant of the
whole history of Dante. I think it is the mournf ulest face that
ever was painted from reality ; an altogether tragic, heart-affecting
face. There is in it, as foundation of it, the softness, tenderness,
gentle affection as of a child ; but all this is as if congealed into
sharp contradiction, into abnegation, isolation, proud hopeless pain.
A soft ethereal soul looking out so stern, implacable, grim-trench-
ant, as from imprisonment of thick-ribbed icel Withal it is a
silent pain too, a silent scornful one ; the lip is curled in a kind of
godlike disdain of the thing that is eating out his heart, — as if it
were withal a mean insignificant thing, as if he whom it had
power to torture and strangle were greater than it. The face of
one wholly in protest and life-long unsurrendering battle, against
the world. Affection all converted into indignation ; an implacable
indignation ; slow, equable, silent, like that of a god ! The eye,
too, it looks out in a kind of surprise, a kind of inquiry, why the
world was of such a sort ? This is Dante : so he looks, this * voice
of ten silent centuries,' and sings us * his mystic unfathomable song.'

— Carlyle: On Heroes,

80 THE PABAORAPH.

47. Character Sketches. — Success in character sketches
depends upon the writer^s power to seize upon the principal
trait of character possessed by the subject of the sketch,
the predominating characteristic, and to group other traits
as the natural results of the leading quality, in the light of
which the deeds of the subject of the sketch are to be ex-
plained. Every developed character has a central quality
about which other traits group themselves. That we speak
naturally of Washington's purity, Lincoln's honesty, and
Queen Elizabeth's versatility is unconscious evidence of
this. This central trait, once found, will furnish the para-
graph theme. Traits should be illustrated by deeds, events,
and words. Epithet, contrast, and figurative language
tend to make a character portrayal vivid and effective.
The following paragraph on the character of James I., from
Green's History of the English People, Vol. III., p. 55, will
illustrate all these points :

[Introductory] On the sixth of May, 1603, after a stately prog-
ress through his new dominions, King James entered London. [Por-
trait] In outer appearance no sovereign could have jarred more
utterly against the conception of an English ruler which had grown
up under Plantagenet or Tudor. His big head, his slobbering tongue,
his quilted clothes, his rickety legs, stood out in as grotesque a con-
trast with all that men recalled of Henry or Elizabeth as his gabble
and rhodomontade, his want of personal dignity, his buffoonery, his
coarseness of speech, his pedantry, his personal cowardice. [Charac-
ter contrasted with portrait] Under this ridiculous exterior indeed
lay no small amount of moral courage and of intellectual dignity.
James was a ripe scholar, with a considerable fund of shrewdness, of
mother wit, and ready repartee. His canny humor lights up the
political and theological controversies of the time with quaint inci-
sive phrases, with pans and epigrams and touches of irony which still
retain their savor. His reading, especially in theological matters,
was extensive ; and he was already a voluminous author on subjects
which ranged from predestination to tobacca. [Statement of the cen-
tral quality — a confirmed pedantry] But his shrewdness and learn-

TYPES OF PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE. 81

ing only left him, in the phrase of Henry the Fourth of France, " the
wisest fool in Christendom." He had, in fact, the temper of a pedant,
a pedant's conceit, a pedant's love of theories, and a pedant's inabil-
ity to bring his theories into any relation with actual facts. It was
this fatal defect that marred his political abilities. As a statesman
he had shown no little capacity in his smaller realm ; his cool hu-
mor and good temper had held even Melville at bay; he had known
how to wait and how to strike ; and his patience and boldness had
been rewarded with a fair success. He had studied foreign affairs
as busily as he had studied Scotch affairs; and of the temper and
plans of foreign courts he probably possessed a greater knowledge
than any Englishman save Robert Cecil. But what he never pos-
sessed, and what he never could gain, was any sort of knowledge of
England or Englishmen. He came to his new home a Scotchman, a
foreigner, strange to the life, the thoughts, the traditions of the Eng-
lish people. And he remained strange to them to the last. A
younger man might have insensibly imbibed the temper of the men
about him. A man of genius would have flung himself into the new
world of thought and feeling and made it his own. But James was
neither young nor a man of genius. He was already in middle age
when he crossed the Border; and his cleverness and his conceit
alike blinded him to the need of any adjustment of his conclusions
or his prejudices to the facts which fronted him.

PART IL

WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

48. Belated Paragraphs. — Each of the paragraphs ex-
amined thus far in our study has been treated as a complete
composition in itself ; we have considered its nature, laws,
means of development, and type of structure. Having thus
been led, through exercises in the writing of single paragraphs
and a study of paragraph structure, to a knowledge of
rhetorical forms and functions, we are now prepared to un-
dertake the composition of those groups or series of para-
graphs which are called essays, themes, or whole compositions.

To the paragraphs which, taken together, form a complete
essay, we may, for convenience, apply the term related
paragraphs. In most of them the structure is not materially
different from that which has been discovered in one or another
of the various forms of the isolated paragraph. Like the
isolated paragraph, most related paragraphs have distinct
topic-statements which are developed in one or more of the
ways already pointed out ; the topic-statements, in the case of
related paragraphs, introducing in turn the various headings
and subheadings of the essay-outline. There are a few
special kinds of related paragraphs, however, so different in
form and function from any of the isolated paragraphs
studied, that they require notice and illustration at the out-
set. What these forms are will appear from a comparison
of the functions of the various sentences in an isolated
paragraph with those of the various paragraphs in an essay.

BELATED PARAGRAPHS. 83

A. SPECIAL FORMS OF RELATED PARAGRAPHS.

49. Regarded as sections of a whole composition, the va-
rious paragraphs have different functions to perform analo-
gous to those performed by the different sentences of the
paragraph. As the subject sentence of a paragraph states the
paragraph theme, so the introductory paragraph of an essay
presents, more or less distinctly, the theme of the essay.
As transition words and sentences may be necessary, some-
times, to connect the sentences of a paragraph, so transition
paragraphs may be needed at focal points in the essay to con-
nect the paragraphs of the essay. Some words like but, yety
still, however, presenting a contrast, serve in a paragraph to
arrest the thought and direct it into a different channel.
There are paragraphs that serve the same purpose in the
essay. A sentence may be devoted wholly to restricting,
defining, repeating, .amplifying, illustrating, or enforcing an
idea set forth in a previous sentence. So in an essay whole
paragraphs may be employed for restricting, defining, re-
peating, amplifying, illustrating, or enforcing the idea of a
preceding paragraph. As there are certain expressions at
important points in a paragraph to carry the thought back
to the subject sentence, so there may be paragraphs in an
essay that show the bearing of the thought of contiguous
paragraphs upon the main idea of the essay. Of course
these functions vary in different kinds of compositions, since
the paragraphs are colored by the nature of the piece as a
whole. In a given essay some may be absent entirely, not
being needed for the kind of production in hand, just as in
a given paragraph some of the means of development are
absent. A few of these functions will be indicated and
illustrated.

50. Introductory and Concluding Paragraphs. — The ob-
ject of an introductory paragraph is to segregate the ideas

84 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

of the composition in hand from all other ideas. As this is
nearly always apparent from a mere statement of the theme,
the introduction usually needs to do little more than state the
theme, and indicate briefly the line of development to be
followed.

The main purpose of this book is to examine the lines and pro-
ductions of such British poets as have gained reputation within
the last forty years. Incidentally, I hope to derive from the body
of their verse, — so various in form and thought, — and from the
record of their different experiences, correct ideas in respect to the
aim and province of the art of poetry, and not a few striking illus-
trations of the poetic life. — E. C. Stedman : Victorian Poets.

In a longer introduction the writer may set forth broadly
the limits and purpose of the essay, chapter, or book: —

Of those who in August, 1806, read in the English newspapers that
the Emperor Francis II had announced to the Diet his resignation
of the imperial crown, there were probably few who reflected that
the oldest political institution in the world had come to an end.
Yet it was so. The Empire which a note issued by a diplomat on
the banks of the Danube extinguished, was the same which the
crafty nephew of Julius had won for himself, against the powers of
the East, beneath the cliffs of Actium ; and which had preserved
almost unaltered, through eighteen centuries of time, and through
the greatest changes in extent, in power, in character, a title and
pretensions from which all meaning had long since departed.
Nothing else so directly linked the old world to the new — nothing
else displayed so many strange contrasts of the present and the
past, and summed up in those contrasts so much of European
history. From the days of Constantine till far down into the
middle ages it was, conjointly with the Papacy, the recognized head
and centre of Christendom, exercising over the minds of men an
influence such as its material strength could never have commanded.
It is of this influence and of the causes that gave it power, rather
than the external history of the Empire, that the following pages
are designed to treat. — Bryce : The Holy Roman Empire.

I purpose to write the history of England from the accession of
King James the Second down to a time which is within the memory

BELATED PARAGRAPHS. 86

of men still living. I shall recount the errors which, in a few
months, alienated a loyal gentry and priesthood from the House
of Stuart. I shall trace the course of that revolution which termi-
nated the long struggle between our sovereigns and their parlia-
ments, and bound up together the rights of the people and the title
of the reigning dynasty. I shall relate how the new settlement was,
during many troubled years, successfully defended against foreign
and domestic enemies ; how, under that settlement, the authority
of law and the security of property were found to be compatible
with a liberty of discussion and of individual action never before
known; how, from the suspicious union of order and freedom,
sprang a prosperity of which the annals of human affairs had fur-
nished no example ; how our country, from a State of ignominious
vassalage, rapidly rose to the place of empire among European
powers ; how her opulence and her martial glory grew together ;
how, by wise and resolute good faith, was gradually established a
public credit fruitful of marvels which to the statesmen of any
former age would have seemed incredible; how a gigantic com-
merce gave birth to a maritime power, compared with which every
other maritime power, ancient or modern, sinks into insignificance ;
how Scotland, after ages of enmity, was at length united to Eng-
land, not merely by legal bonds, but by indissoluble ties of interest
and affection ; how, in America, the British colonies rapidly became
far mightier and wealthier than the realms which Cortez and Pizarro
had added to the dominions of Charles the Fifth; how, in Asia,
British adventurers founded an empire not less splendid and more
durable than that of Alexander. — Macaulay : History of England,

A methodical writer will indicate in the introduction the
order of the topics under which the subject is to be treated.
This may be done formally by enumerating the topics, as in
the following : —

The National government touches the States as corporate com-
monwealths in three points. One is their function in helping to
form the National government, another is the control exercised
over them by the Federal Constitution through the Federal courts ;
the third is the control exercised over them by the Federal Legis-
lature and Executive in the discharge of the governing functions

86 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

which these latter authorities possess.— -Bryce : American Common'
wealth, Vol. I., chap, xxyiii.

A more informal mode of indicatiDg the order of topics is
seen in the following : —

[The subject of the section from which the following paragraph
is taken is " Political Institutions of Germany." The marginal
note gives as the subject of this paragraph, << Want of National In-
stitutions in Germany."]

It was the misfortune of Germany in the sixteenth and seven-
teenth centuries that, [Subject of section] with most of the condi-
tions requisite for the formation of national unity, [Subject of
paragraph] she had no really national institutions. There was
[Subjects of sections and paragraphs to follow] an Emperor, who
looked something like an English King, and a Diet, or General
Assembly, which looked something like an English Parliament,
but [Subject of paragraph repeated] the resemblance was far
greater in appearance than in reality. — Gardiner : Thirty Years'
War, p. 1.

In a description, the introduction frequently gives the
total impression produced by the object described. A
narrative introduction usually requires nothing more than
the place and time of the story. A newspaper article nar-
rating an important series of events usually employs the in-
troductory paragraph for the purpose of giving a summary
of the events detailed at length in the succeeding portions.
In such an article, the introduction tells the whole story in
brief, the remaining paragraphs being arranged in the order
of decreasing importance. The following is an illustration
of a news article introduced in this way : —

Another attempt was made to-day to assassinate the Shah. While
he was driving in a narrow street a bomb was thrown from a house-
top, striking near a motor car preceding the Shah's carriage,
which was some distance behind. The Shah was uninjured.

The chauffeur of the motor car and about twenty others were
wounded. The Shah alighted from his carriage and entered the
nearest house, which was shortly afterward surrounded by guards.

BELATED PABA0BAPH8. 87

His Majesty after a while left the house and proceeded to the
palace.

A search of the house from the roof of which the bomb was
thrown proved fruitless. No suspicious characters were found.

It is known that twelve perspns were killed, besides some horses.
A number of windows were smashed by the force of the explosion.
Immediately after the bomb was thrown the tribal cavalry, who
were escorting the Shah, broke ranks and fired in all directions.
The Shah returned to the palace on foot.

The concluding paragraph — except in the peculiar case
of the newspaper narrative — should gather into itself the
force of all the preceding paragraphs. The effort should
be to leave a strong impression. It is no place for digres-
sions, but must be in line with what has been said before.

A great deal must be allowed to Pope for the age in which he
lived, and not a little, I think, for the influence of Swift. In his
own province he still stands unapproachably alone. [Enumeration
of points made in the essay] If to be the greatest satirist of individ-
ual men, rather than of human nature, if to be the highest expres-
sion which the life of the court and the ball-room has ever found
in verse, if to have added more phrases to our language than any
other but Shakespeare, if to have charmed four generations make
a man a great poet — then he is one. He was the chief founder
of an artificial style of writing, which in his hands was living
and powerful, because he used it to express ai-tificial modes of
thinking and an artificial state of society. Measured by any high
standard of imagination, he will be found wanting ; tried by any
test of wit he is unrivalled. — Lowell : My Study Windows,

In the following partial conclusion from Matthew Arnold's
Pi-efo/ce to Wordsworth^s Poems, the theme which was pro-
posed at the beginning of the essay is repeated and en-
forced : —

On the whole, then, as I said at the beginning, not only is Words-
worth eminent by reason of the goodness of his best work, but he
is eminent also by reason of the great body of good work which
he has left to us. With the ancients I will not compare him. In

88 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

many respects the ancients are far above us, and yet there is some*
thing that we demand which they can never give. Leaving the
ancients, let us come to the poets and the poetry of Christendom.
Dante, Shakespeare, Molifere, Milton, Goethe, are altogether larger
and more splendid luminaries in the poetical heaven than Words-
worth. But I know not where else, among the moderns, we are to
find his superiors.

51. Transitional and Directive Paragraphs. — Transi-
tional and directive paragraphs serve to make plain the
logical connection between the main topics of the discourse
and to direct the thought both to the subject of the pre-
ceding paragraph and to that of the following paragraph.
Transitional paragraphs have, therefore, two offices to per-
form. There must be the " backward look " to the subject
that precedes, and the " forward look " to the subject that
follows. The following will serve to illustrate : —

[In a preceding paragraph the author has called attention to
the fact that Confucius is worthy of high respect. This idea is re-
peated in the opening sentence.] Confucius belongs to that small
company of select ones whose lives have been devoted to the moral
elevation of their fellow-men. Among them he stands high. For
[Transition to new subject] he sought to implant the purest prin-
ciples of religion and morals in the character of the whole people,
and succeeded in doing it. To show that this was his purpose
[Subject of next paragraph definitely stated] it will be necessary
to give a brief sketch of his life. — Clarke : Ten Great Religions,

[Shelley (Defence of Poetry) has just shown that the highest
pleasure is linked with pain.]

The production and assurance of pleasure in this highest sense
is true utility. Those who produce and preserve this pleasure are
poets or poetical philosophers. [In the next paragraph they are
named.]

A second reason which lends an emphasis of novelty and effeo*
tive power to Shakespeare's female world is a peculiar fact of con-
trast which exists between that and his corresponding world of

RELATED PABA0RAPH8. 89

men. Let us explain. — De Quincey : Biographies, [The remain-
der of the paragraph is occupied with the explanation.]

We have hitherto been examining cases proposed by our oppo-
nent. It is now our turn to propose one, and we beg he will spare
no wisdom in solving it. — Macaulay: Utilitarian Theory of Gov'
eminent. [In the next paragraph the case is stated.]

A sudden change of subject, or a turn in the argument
which the reader could not be expected to anticipate, re-
quires a carefully worded directive paragraph.

The very great length to which this article lias already been
extended makes it impossible for us to discuss, as we had meant to
do, the characters and conduct of the leading English statesmen
at this crisis. But we must offer a few remarks on the spirit and
tendency of the Revolution of 1688. — Macaulay : Sir James Mack-
intoshes History of the Revolution,

52. Amplif3ring Paragraphs. — It is often the case that a
thought which bears directly on the subject, but which can
be mentioned only briefly in one paragraph, is of sufficient
importance to deserve a more extended treatment. To give
it such treatment in the paragraph in which it is first
mentioned might destroy the unity and due proportion of
that paragraph. In such a case it is better to develop the
thought, in detail^ in the paragraph immediately following.
Separate treatment of this kind will permit the reader to
dwell upon the thought thus amplified, long enough for him
to appreciate its bearing and importance. The amplifying
paragraph is of especial value in enforcing an idea in a par-
ticular way and in making it contribute to the main purpose
of the composition. Often an amplifying paragraph con-
sists of details which enforce or illustrate the idea of the
preceding paragraph as a whole. The following are in
point : —

Lord Bolingbroke, in his Study of History, announces, in
one paragraph, the fact that history widens our experience

90 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

and corrects our narrowness. In the next paragraph he
amplifies this idea by means of examples^ as follows : —

Let me explain what I mean by an example. There is scarce
any folly or vice more epidemical among the sons of men than that
ridiculous and hurtful vanity by which the people of each country
are apt to prefer themselves to those of every other ; and to make
their own customs, and manners, and opinions, the standards of
right and wrong, of true and false. The Chinese mandarins were
strangely surprised, and almost incredulous, when the Jesuits
showed them how small a figure their empire made in the general
map of the world. The Samojedes wondered much at the Czar of
Muscovy for not living among them ; . . . now nothing can con-
tribute more to prevent us from being tainted with this vanity
than to accustom ourselves early to contemplate the different na-
tions of the earth in that vast map which history spreads before
us ... I might show by a multitude of other examples how
history prepares us for experience and guides us in it ... I
might likewise bring several other instances wherein history serves
to purge the mind of those national partialities and prejudices
that we are apt to contract in our education. — Bolingbroke :
Of the Study of History, Letter iL

The following amplifies a thought suggested, though not
explicitly stated, in preceding paragraphs of the book : —

What may we imagine his own feeling to have been in this
crisis of his fate ? The thought of Edinburgh society would natu-
rally stir that ambition which was strong within him, and awaken
a desire to meet the men who were praising him in the capital, and
to try his powers in that wide arena. It might be that in that new
scene something might occur which would reverse the current of his
fortunes, and set him free from the crushing poverty that had hith-
erto kept him down. Anyhow, he was conscious of strong powers
which fitted him to shine, not in poetry only, but in conversation
and discussion ; and, ploughman though he was, he did not shrink
from encountering any man or any set of men. Proud, too, we know
he was, and his pride showed itself in jealousy and suspicion of
the classes who were socially above him, until such feelings were
melted by kindly intercourse with some individual man belonging

TYPES OF COMPOSITION. 91

to the suspected orders. He felt himself to surpass in natural
powers those who were his superiors in rank and fortune, and he
could not, for the life of him, see why they should be full of this
world's goods, while he had none of them. He had not yet learned
— he never did learn — that lesson, that the genius he had received
was his allotted portion, and that his wisdom lay in making the
most of this rare inward gift, even on a meagre allowance of the
world's external goods. But perhaps, whether he knew it or not,
the greatest attraction of the capital was that in that new excite-
ment he might escape from the demons of remorse and despair
which had for many months been dogging him. He may have
fancied this, but the pangs which Burns had created for himself
were too deep to be in this way permanently put by. — Shairp :
Robert Bums.

B. TYPES OF WHOLE COMPOSITION.

53. In our further study attention will be concentrated
not upon the individual paragraph but upon the whole essay.
This change in the object of attention necessitates a corre-
sponding change in our method of presenting the subject.
Beginning with the usual division of discourse, we shall take
up in turn the various types of whole composition, pointing
out, in the case of each, those principles and cautions which
have been found most useful in actual writing.

Four principal types of whole composition may be dis-
tinguished, the characteristic differences of each arising from
differences in the aim of the writer and his resulting method
of treating the subject. If his aim is to present a picture
or a succession of pictures or impressions made on the senses,
the resulting type of composition is called description. If
his aim is to present action in a series of incidents, the re-
sulting type is nan-ative. If his aim is to explain, or to set
forth the meaning of things as distinguished from their out-
ward appearance, the resulting type is exposition. Finally,
if his aim is to convince, that is, to establish iu the mind of

92 DESCRIPTION.

another a belief which exists in his own mind, the resulting
type is argument, A fifth type, persuasion, is sometimes dis-
tinguished. It is to be regarded as arising from the writer's
attempt to make others act in the way he wishes them to act.
In this book persuasion is treated in connection with argu-
mentation.

The four main types occur sometimes in the pure form,
sometimes commingled. A composition which as a whole
is narrative, may contain, and generally does contain, es-
pecially if it is long, a great deal of description, more or less
exposition, and not infrequently passages of argument. Both
description and narrative may be used for expository pur-
poses, and argument, as in a lawyer's plea for the conviction
of a criminal, may be thrown into the form of a story. Be-
tween exposition and argument it is often hard to distinguish,
for we may not be able to determine until the end of the
composition is reached, whether the writer's purpose was
to bring about a change of opinion or merely to expound a
principle, or set of facts, the truth of which is taken for
granted. It may even happen that what is exposition for
one reader is argument for another ; Bryce's American Cowr
monwealth, for example, is for Americans an exposition of
self-evident truths, but for many Englishmen it is a more or
less convincing argument.

Description.

54. The purpose of descriptive writing is by means of
language to arouse in the mind of the reader an image or a
series of images corresponding as nearly as possible to an image
or a series of images in the mind of the writer.

We commonly speak of these mental images as pictures,
because they usually take that form; but there are images
of sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and muscular strains, as
well as of things seen. Thus in the following passage,

DESCRIPTION. 93

although the images are mainly those which are derived
from the sense of sight, there are also * pictures ' of sounds,
smells, and sensations of shock : —

His voice rang out like the blast of a warning trumpet between
the iron walls of the engine-room. Painted white, they rose high
into the dusk of the skylight, sloping like a roof ; and the whole
lofty space resembled a chamber in a monument, divided by floors
of iron grating, with lights flickering at different levels, and the
still gloom within the columnar stir of machinery under the motion-
less swelling of the cylinders. A loud and wild resonance, made
up of all the noises of the hurricane, dwelt in the still warmth of
the air. There was in it the smell of hot metal, of oil, and a slight
mist of steam. The blows of the sea seemed to traverse it, in an
unringing, stunning shock, from side to side.

Gleams, like pale, long flames, trembled upon the polish of
metal, from the flooring below the enormous crank-heads emerged
in their turns with a flash of brass and steel — going over ; while
the connecting rods, big-jointed, like skeleton limbs, seemed to
thrust them down and pull them up again with an irresistible
precision. And deep in the half-light other rods dodged to and
fro, crossheads nodded quickly, disks of metal rubbed against each
other, swift and gentle in a commingling of shadows and gleams.
— Joseph Conrad: Typhoon, pp. 135-136.

The mind of the reader is full of images drawn from his
own experience, which are quick to arise whenever his
memory or his imagination is set going. If the writer can
touch the right springs, can use, that is, the words which
will call up the right images in the right order, his descrip-
tion- will be successful. If, on the other hand, through
carelessness or inexpertness, he uses the wrong words, or
uses them in the wrong order, images which are unlike his
own will arise in the reader's mind and the result will be
confusion, or a picture which, as a whole, is different from
that in his own mind. To arouse the right images, to keep
back the wrong images is, then, the twofold task of the
writer of- description.

94 DESCRIPTION.

The main requisite to good description is that the writer
should see in his mind's eye with the utmost clearness the
thing he is to describe, for it needs no demonstration that
what he sees only vaguely himself he cannot by his words
make others see clearly. Sharp, inquiring observation,
careful noting of details, verification of matters about which
there is question — these are the essential preliminaries to all
good description. The advantage is evident, therefore, of
selecting objects for description which the writer has him-
self seen, mental states which he has himself experienced,
characters with which he has himself been brought in
contact. Objects and characters close at hand afford the
best material for description. A room, a scene, a face, a pic-
ture, a building, well known to the describer, furnish better
subjects than similar themes taken from history or reported
at second hand. The notable descriptive passages in the
works of famous writers are, as a rule, based upon notes
taken while the observer was face to face with the object
to be described. " Willows don't hang so low as you seem
to think," said the Dominie in Sentimental Tommy to his
pupil. " Yes, they do," replied Tommy, " I walked three
miles to see one to make sure."

55. Method in Description. — To arouse in the mind of
the reader the images which are in the writer's mind and
to keep out intruding images which would distort and con-
fuse the picture, certain methods of procedure have been
found useful. These may be grouped under the following
heads : (1) having a single purpose, (2) maintaining a point
of view, (3) following a definite and natural outline, (4) select-
ing details in accordance with the purpose of the description,
(5) arranging and subordinating the details, (6) choosing
appropriate terms, phrases, and other helps to vivid pres-
entation.

PUBP08E m DmCBtPTtOJf. 96

56. Purpose. — By giving to the description a definite
purpose, the describer keeps the reader's attention within a
well-marked channel. The description moves, as it were,
along a straight path to a predetermined goal, and images
which might otherwise obtrude themselves and spoil the
picture are by this means held back, while the appropriate
images which assist in carrying out the purpose come for-
ward of themselves.

But although every descriptive essay should have a pur-
pose, this purpose need not be directly expressed. If ex-
pressed at all, it will usually be in the conclusion of the
essay. The purpose may be merely to convey information ;
yet even here it will be information to a certain end, and the
whole description will show what the end is. A poet and a
naturalist will describe a scene in different ways. Compare
the following passages : —

To the northwest, north and east of the village, is a range of
fair enclosures, consisting of what is called a white malm, a sort
of rotten or rubble stone, which, when turned up to the frost and
rain, moulders to pieces, and becomes manure to itself.

Still on to the northeast, and a step lower, is a kind of white
land, neither chalk nor clay, neither fit for pasture nor for the
plough, yet kindly for hops, which root deep into the freestone, and
have their poles and wood for charcoal growing just at hand. The
white soil produces the brightest hops.

As the parish still inclines down towards Wolmer Forest, at the
juncture of the clays and sand the soil becomes a wet, sandy loam,
remarkable for timber, and infamous for roads. The oaks of
Temple and Blackmoor stand high in the estimation of purveyors,
and have furnished much naval timber; while the trees on the
freestone grow large, but are what workmen call shaky, and so
brittle as often to fall to pieces in sawing. Beyond the sandy
loam the soil becomes a hungry, lean sand, till it mingles with the
forest; and will produce little without the assistance of lime and
turnips. — Gilbert White : The Parish of Selhome.

What is it I see from my low hills ? It is an enchanted land
for me, and I lose myself in wondering how it is that no one, poet

96 DESCRIPTION.

or artist, has ever wholly found out the charm of these level
plains, with their rich black soil, their straight dikes, their great
drift-roads, that run as far as the eye can reach into the unvisited
fen. In summer it is a feast of the richest green from verge to
verge ; here a clump of trees stands up, almost of the hue of indigo,
surrounding a lonely shepherd's cote ; a distant church rises, a dark
tower over the hamlet elms; far beyond, I see low wolds, streaked and
dappled by copse and wood ; far to the south, I see the towers and
spires of Cambridge, as of some spiritual city — the smoke rises
over it on still days, hanging like a cloud ; to the east lie the dark
pinewoods of Suffolk, to the north an interminable fen ; but not
only is it that one sees a vast extent of sky, with great cloud-bat-
talions crowding up from the south, but all the color of the land-
scape is crowded into a narrow belt to the eye, which gives it an
intensity of emerald hue that I have seen nowhere else in the
world. There is a sense of deep peace about it all, the herb of the
field just rising in its place over the wide acres ; the air is touched
with a lazy fragrance, as of hidden flowers ; and there is a sense,
too, of silent and remote lives, of men that glide quietly to and fro
in the great pastures, going quietly about their work in a leisurely
calm. — A. C. Benson : At Large.

The purpose may be no more definite than to produce a
favorable or an unfavorable impression of the object de-
scribed, and yet, though nowhere avowed in the essay, it will
color the whole description. For example, the description
of a schoolroom may all tend to show the need of improve-
ment in lighting, care, or ventilation. A scene may be de-
scribed so as to produce the same feeling of sympathy or
abhorrence that was produced in the observer. A character
description may excite admiration, or reverence, or awe, or
detestation. It is the hidden purpose which gives cohesion,
unity, effectiveness, and individuality to a descriptive essay.

57. Point of View. — The purpose determines the point
of view and gives the character and coloring to the whole
essay. The expression, " point of view," is used in two
senses. In one sense it is to be understood literally. In

POINT OF VIEW. 97

describing a scene, for instance, the observer takes his
stand (in thought) at some point, and describes the elements
that make up the scene as they appear to him from that
point. It may be necessary, in describing extensive objects
(as a large building or an art gallery), for the describer to
change his point of view, but the imaginary path which he
follows should be clearly marked and due notice of each
change should be given to the reader by some such expres-
sion as, ''Passing now to the interior of the building, etc."

Of the two following passages the first illustrates a fixed
point of view — the "open plat of turf" — the second a
changing point of view following the path indicated by the
words "Upon reaching the deck," "In a couple of hours,"
" We steamed slowly in," " Upon landing " : —

He soon reached an open plat of turf, on the opposite side of which,
a rock, rising abruptly from a gently sloping plain, offered its gray
and weatherbeaten front to the traveller. Ivy mantled its sides in
some places, and in others oaks and holly bushes, whose roots
found nourishment in the cliffs of the crag, waved over the preci-
pices below, like the plumage of the warrior over his steel helmet,
giving grace to that whose chief expression was terror. At the
bottom of the rock, and leaning, as it were, against it, was con-
structed a rude hut, built chiefly of the trunks of trees felled in the
neighboring forest, and secured against the weather by having its
crevices stuffed with moss mingled with clay. The stem of a young
fir tree lopped of its branches, with a piece of wood tied across near
the top, was planted upright by the door, as a rude emblem of the
holy cross. At a little distance on the right hand, a fountain of
the purest water trickled out of the rock, and was received in a
hollow stone, which labor had formed into a rustic basin. Escap-
ing from thence, the stream murmured down the descent by a
channel which its course had long worn, and so wandered through
the little plain to lose itself in the neighboring wood.

Beside this fountain were the ruins of a very small chapel, of
which the roof had partly fallen in. The building, when entire,
had never been above sixteen feet long by twelve feet in breadth,
and the roof, low in proportion, rested on four concentric arches

98 DESCRIPTION.

which sprung from the four corners of the building, each supported
upon a short and heavy pillar. The ribs of two of these arches
remained, though the roof had fallen down betwixt them ; over the
others it remained entire. The entrance to this ancient place of
devotion was under a very low round arch, ornamented by several
courses of that zigzag moulding, resembling shark's teeth, which
appears so often in the more ancient Saxon architecture. A belfry
rose above the porch on four small pillars, within which hung the
green and weather-beaten bell, the feeble sounds of which had been
some time before heard by the Black Knight. — Scott: Ivanhoe,

Upon reaching the deck the following morning, I saw that we
were threading an archipelago of little, bare, sandy islands, our
course between them being carefully marked with spars, which at
night bear kerosene lamps. Other steamers and a few sailing
vessels appeared in several directions. The distant coast was low
and yellow. In a couple of hours Asunada came into view, a
level of one-story houses and huts, with a huge tower for pump-
ing oil, the steeple of a church, and a few steamers and schooners
at the long, wooden wharves, alone breaking the dull uniformity.
The background was of sand-hills, and there was not a single
blade of vegetation anywhere in sight. In the centre of the
town were several long lines of railway cars, and the telegraph-
posts extending down the coast told the direction the road takes
toward the interior. We steamed slowly in, and were made
fast to a large hulk lying at one of the wharves. Upon landing, I
noticed that most of the houses were built of rough logs, though
many mud huts also appeared. There were no streets or sidewalks,
only crooked lanes of deep sand, if I except the asphalt pavement
which led to the railway station. The place had the appearance of
one of our Western towns of a few months* growth ; everything
seemed new, incomplete, temporary. — Frank Vincent : Samarkand
and Bokhara.

But a wider meaning is evident in the expression, point
of view, when we say that a description is written from the
point of view of a careless, or interested, or sympathetic
observer ; or from the point of view of the scientist, or the
reformer, or the teacher ; the expression here referring to

DEFINITE OUTLINE. 99

the spirit or bias of the observer. Used in this sense the
term is equivalent to purpose.

58. Outline. — Since the framework of the description is
usually concealed, young writers are apt to assume that in
writing description a definite outline may be dispensed with.
Nothing, however, could be farther from the truth. A
good description, if carefully analyzed, will be found to be
as firmly articulated as an argument. It is well, therefore,
for the student to form the habit of noting, either on paper
or in his mind, the order in which he will arrange the
details of his description.

Material objects carry their own outlines with them.
The observer discovers the main outlines of the object he
wishes to describe and arranges them in the order in which
they appear to him. As the main features of any material
object are few in number, the corresponding headings in
the outline will be few, and distinctly stated. The lesser
details, so far as these require mention, will be arranged as
subdivisions of the main headings to which they respec-
tively belong. In selecting features for the main headings,
prominence is the rule that governs; in selecting and
arranging the details for the subheadings, the order of
proximity is to be followed. Descriptions of character fur-
nish a less obvious outline. Here the two or three chief
characteristics, carefully distinguished, give the main head-
ings. These larger headings are presented usually in the
order of their prominence, the most prominent coming last ;
lesser traits are arranged as subdivisions under these in the
order of similarity or of contrast.

The following piece of description by Euskin is arranged
on this simple and obvious plan: —

I. Vegetable life.

1. The Mediterranean region.

2. Switzerland and France.

100 DESCRIPTION. .

3. Northern Europe.

4. The Polar region.
II. Animal life.

1. The southern zone.

2. The northern zone.

The charts of the world which have been drawn up by modem
science have thrown into a narrow space the expression of a vast
amount of knowledge, but I have never yet seen any one pictorial
enough to enable the spectator to imagine the kind of contrast in
physical character which exists between Northern and Southern
countries. We know the differences in detail, but we have not
that broad glance and grasp which would enable us to feel them
in their fulness. We know that gentians grow on the Alps, and
olives on the Apennines; but we do not enough conceive for our-
selves that variegated mosaic of the world's surface which a bird
sees in its migration, that difference between the district of the
gentian and of the olive which the stork and the swallow see far
off as they lean upon the sirocco wind. Let us, for a moment, try
to raise ourselves even above the level of their flight, and imagine
the Mediterranean lying beneath us like an irregular lake, and all
its ancient promontories sleeping in the sun : here and there an
angry spot of thunder, a gray stain of storm, moving upon the
burning field ; and here and there a fixed wreath of white volcano
smoke, surrounded by its circle of ashes ; but for the most part a
great peacefulness of light, Syria and Greece, Italy and Spain,
laid like pieces of a golden pavement into the sea-blue, chased, as
we stoop nearer to them, with bossy beaten work of mountain
chains, and glowing softly with terraced gardens and flowers heavy
with frankincense, mixed among masses of laurel, and orange and
plumy palm that abate with their gray-green shadows the burning
of the marble rocks, and of the ledges of porphyry sloping under
lucent sand. Then let us pass farther towards the north until we
see the orient colors change gradually into a vast belt of rainy
green, where the pastures of Switzerland, and the poplar valleys of
France, and the dark forests of the Danube and Carpathian stretch
from the mouths of the Loire to those of the Volga, seen through
clefts in gray swirls of rain-cloud and flaky veils of the mist

SELECTION OF DETAILS. 101

of the brooks, spreading low along the pasture lands : and then,
farther north still, to see the earth heave into mighty masses of
leaden rock and heathy moor, bordering with a broad waste of
gloomy purple that belt of field and wood, and splintering into
irregular and grisly islands amidst the northern seas, beaten by
storm and chilled by icedrift, and tormented by furious pulses of
contending tides, until the roots of the last forest fail from among
the hill ravines, and the hunger of the north winds bites their
peaks into barrenness ; and^ at last, the wall of ice, durable like
iron, sets, deathlike, its white teeth against us out of the polar
twilight. And, having once traversed in thought its gradation of
the zoned iris of the earth in all its material vastness, let us go
down nearer to it, and watch the parallel change in the belt of
animal life : the multitudes of swift and brilliant creatures that
glance in the air and sea, or tread the sands of the southern zone ;
striped zebras and spotted leopards, glistening serpents, and birds
arrayed in purple and scarlet. Let us contrast their delicacy and
brilliancy of color, and swiftness of motion, with the frost-cramped
strength, and shaggy covering, and dusky plumage of the northern
tribes; contrast the Arabian horse with the Shetland, the tiger
and leopard with the wolf and bear, the antelope with the elk, the
bird of paradise with the osprey : and then, submissively acknowl-
edging the great laws by which the earth and all that it bears are
ruled throughout their being, let us not condemn, but rejoice at
the expression by man of his own rest in the statutes of the lands
that gave him birth. — Ruskin : The Stones of Venice, Vol. II.

59. Selection of Details. — The purpose also influences
the selection of details. The few details will be chosen
which are most suggestive and characteristic of the thing
described, and while enough will be said to give a unified
picture, those details will be especially emphasized which
tend to bring out the writer's purpose and to make the
reader see as the writer saw.

Examining skilful bits of description like the following,
we are surprised to see how few details are needed, if they are
rightly chosen, to give a complete and satisfying picture.

102 DESCRIPTION.

By all odds the most interesting figure there was that of a stoat
peasant serving-girl, dressed in a white knitted jacket, a crimson
neckerchief, and a bright-colored gown, and wearing long dangling
earrings of yellowest gold. — Howells : Venetian Life,

A brisk little old woman passed us by. She was seated across
a donkey between a pair of glittering milk-cans, and, as she went,
she kicked jauntily with her heels upon the donkey's side, and
scattered shrill remarks among the wayfarers. — Stevenson: An
Inland Voyage,

By this time we were clear of the English channel, and I looked
aroimd me at the great ocean, swelling in long lines of rich, spar-
kling blue under the high morning sun. Far away, blue in the air,
were some leaning shafts of ships, and at the distance of a quarter
of a mile a large steamer was passing, steering the same road as
ourselves. — W. C. Russell : A Three-stranded Yarn,

It will be noticed that in all of these examples the points
selected for special mention are not those which the object
or scene to be described has in common with other objects
of the same class, but those in which it differs and is
peculiar.

60. Sequence and Grouping. — The order in which the de-
tails are presented is determined largely by the character of
the thing described ; but this order may be modified by the
purpose of the writer. In describing a material object the
general impression or effect produced upon the observer at
the first view naturally comes first : the impression of great-
ness, massiveness, beauty, gloom, or brightness, as the case
may be ; then often the color, as this is one of the first
things noticed ; next the general plan, shape, and size, as
these give the reader a comprehensive outline into which he
may fit the details as they are mentioned ; finally, the ma-
terial, style, arrangement, furnishings, and use. Lesser de-
tails will be mentioned only so far as they are peculiar or
are necessary to a unified picture, and they will be pre-
sented in small groups in connection with some of the main

SEQUENCE AND GROUPING. 103

headings, or, if mentioned by themselves, will be used
to illustrate some characteristic of the object described,
such as convenience, adaptedness to use, ornamentation, or
plainness.

The opening words of the following description — " It is
a ghastly ruin " — give us the general impression which the
details are intended to make more vivid and complete.

It is a ghastly ruin ; whatever is venerable or sad in its wreck
being disguised by attempts to put it to present uses of the
basest kind. It has been composed of arcades borne by marble
shafts, and walls of brick faced with marble ; but the covering
stones have been torn away from it like the shroud from a corpse ;
and its walls, rent into a thousand chasms, are filled and refilled
with fresh brickwork, and the seams and hollows are choked
with clay and whitewash, oozing and trickling over the marble, —
itself blanched into dusty decay by the frost of centuries. Soft
grass and wandering leafage have rooted themselves in the rents,
but they are not suffered to grow in their own wild and gentle way,
for the place is in a sort inhabited ; rotten partitions are nailed
across its corridors, and miserable rooms contrived in its western
wing ; and here and there the weeds are indolently torn down,
leaving their haggard fibres to struggle again into unwholesome
growth when the spring next stirs them : and thus, in contest
between death and life, the unsightly heap is festering to its fall.
— Ruskin : l^he Stones of Venicey Vol. II., chap. v.

The following description opens with an indication of
the size of the room : —

In a hall, the height of which was greatly disproportioned to its
extreme length and width, a long oaken table formed of planks
rough-hewn from the forest, which had scarcely received any
polish, stood ready prepared for the evening meal of Cedric the
Saxon. The roof, composed of beams and rp^fters, had nothing to
divide the apartment from the sky excepting the planking and
thatch; there was a huge fireplace at either end of the hall, but as
the chimneys were constructed in a very clumsy manner, at least as
much of the smoke found its way into the apartment as escaped

104 DESCRIPTION.

by the proper vent. The constant vapor which this occasioned
had polished the rafters and beams of the low-browed hall, by en-
crusting them with a black varnish of soot. On the sides of the
apartment hung implements of war and of the chase, and there
were at each corner folding doors, which gave access to other parts
of the extensive building. — Scott : Ivanhoe,

In this picture of the cabin of a fishing-schooner, as seen
by a landsman, Kipling first gives us an impression of its
size and shape, then of the lighting of it. The details
which first attract the eye of the observer follow ; and last
come the impressions on the sense of smell.

When he waked he listened for the first breakfast-bell on the
steamer, wondering why his stateroom had grown so small. Turn-
ing, he looked into a narrow, triangular cave, lit by a lamp hung
against a huge square beam. A three-cornered table within arm's
reach ran from the angle of the bows to the foremast. At the
after end behind a well-used Plymouth stove, sat a boy about his
own age, with a flat, red face and a pair of twinkling gray eyes.
He was dressed in a blue jersey and high rubber boots. Several
pairs of the same sort of foot-wear, an old cap, and some worn-out
woollen socks lay on the floor, and black and yellow oilskins swayed
to and fro beside the bunks. The place was packed as full of
smells as a bale is of cotton. The oilskins had a peculiai'ly thick
flavor of their own which made a sort of background to the
smells of fried fish, burnt grease, paint, pepper, and stale tobacco ;
these again were all hooped together by one encircling smell of
ship and salt water. — Kipling: Captains Courageous.

A comparison to some well-known object or outline is
often useful in giving the first general impression which
the object to be described makes upon the observer. Thus,
in the following, the reader is greatly helped in imaging
the native house by learning that it resembles a boat, keel
upward, on the stocks.

The native houses are usually built on poles from two to twenty
feet high, and those upon the sea-shore on slender piles driven into
the sand, so that they are surrounded by water at high tide. In

H1ELP8 TO DE8CBIPTI0N. 106

general appearance, they resemble nothing so much as a boat, keel
upward, on the stocks. They are very simple in construction, and
consist, for the most part, of a light framework of wood, thatched
with the leaves of the pandanus, nipa, or sago, and floored with
the sides of old canoes, or split bamboo, secured by rattan cane to
the framework. You enter by means of a rudely constructed
ladder, reaching from the ground to a platform which frequently
answers the double purpose of a veranda and a passageway be-
tween the different houses of the village. There is a door at either
end, but no windows, and the interior is dark and gloomy. Where
there is a fireplace, it is constructed upon the floor, either at one
side, or in the centre of the room, protection against fire being
provided for by the accumulation of ashes. In some of the villages,
the houses of the chiefs are distinguished by a spire, or cupola,
rising thirty feet, or more, above the top of the roof.

A comparison or outline of this sort at the beginning of
the description is termed the fundamental image.

61. Helps to Description. —The object of description being
to make the reader see mentally what the writer saw actu-
ally, description becomes to a large degree a matter of
conveying impressions. Comparisons, similes, contrasts, epi-
thet, and figurative language are the natural means resorted
to for conveying personal impressions from one to another
and have a prominent part in effective description. Feel-
ings and circumstances naturally associated with objects of
the class described give clearness and vividness to a de-
scription, and a final and unified impression is given by
stating in conclusion the effect produced upon the mind of
the observer when in the presence of the object, as in the
description by Euskin, quoted in the preceding section.

In the following the sense of oppressive sultriness which
the writer wishes to convey, is greatly heightened by the ref-
erence at the close to the refreshing waters of the lake :—

The fifes and drums have ceased to sound. The parade is formed
— after a fashion. Two straggling, uncertain Hues of unarmed,

106 DESCRIPTION.

blue-clad men stretch across the uneven field. A group of musi
ciaiis, with a few fifes and drums, are in their places on the right.
The men stand at parade rest, with hands clasped loosely before
them. The sun be^ts hot on the glowing napes, Which the military
caps, now donned for the first time, leave unprotected. The sweat-
drops creep down the flushed faces. Many an eye wanders long-
ingly to the blue, sparkling waves of Lake Erie, of which one
might catch a distant glimpse. — A. W. Tourgee: The Story of a
Thousand,

Notice in the following passage, how the difficult task of
conveying an impression of the odors of a forest is helped
by the use of such carefully chosen epithets 2i^ fortifying^
pistolling y tonic, coquettish, showery, by the comparison to
snuff in the nostrils, and by the suggestion of " open water
and tall ships" ; —

And, surely, of all smells in the world the smell of many trees
is the sweetest and most fortifying. The sea has a rude pistolling
sort of odor, that takes you in the nostrils like snuff, and carries
with it a fine sentiment of open water and tall ships ; but the
smell of a forest, which comes nearest to this in tonic quality,
surpasses it by many degrees in the quality of softness. Again,
the smell of the sea has little yariety, but the smell of a forest is
infinitely changeful ; it varies with the hour of the day, not in
strength merely, but in character; and the different sorts of trees,
as you go from one zone of the wood to another, seem to live
among different kinds of atmosphere. Usually the rosin of the
fir predominates. But some woods are more coquettish in their
habits ; and the breath of the forest Mormal, as it came aboard upon
us that showery afternoon, was perfumed with nothing less delicate
than sweetbrier. — Stevenson: An Inland Voyage.

62. Kinds of Description. — Descriptions may be graded
according to the degree in which the imagination and
emotions of the writer fuse the various images into a com-
plete, well-rounded picture. At one extremity of the scale
are descriptions which are little more than the enumeration
of details. Such are descriptions of buildings and ma-

KINDS OF DESCRIPTION. 107

cliinery for business purposes, the descriptions of persons
for purposes of identification, the descriptions of plants,
animals, and objects of nature for scientific purposes.
Even in these instances, however, there is an opportunity
for the exercise of skill. It is possible to enumerate
details either in a way that will confuse the reader and
mislead him, or in a way that will convey an exact and
satisfying idea of the object described. In even the barest
enumeration the purpose of the description should be kept
in view. The details should be carefully selected, and
arranged in a definite order, and the less important items
should in some way be made subordinate to the more im-
portant.

In the following description of a kind of wood found in
the Philippine Islands the purpose is less to present a pic-
ture than to give such an enumeration of the details as will
enable any one to identify the species : —

Camagon {Diospi/rus pilosanthera var.). Tree of moderate
size, wood black, with narrow brown or yellowish red streaks, and
sometimes with black spots. It is of very solid texture, with
straight longitudinally compressed fibre and broad short pores,
slightly marked. It takes a good polish, and breaks almost square.
Its shaving is somewhat rough, is compact, and does not curl at
all. The wood is highly valued for cabinet work on account of its
color and polish. It is often confounded with ebony. It ordinarily
comes into the market in logs 9 feet or more in length up to 12
feet in diameter. — Report of the Philippine Commission, 1900, Vol.
III., p. 293.

Compare with the foregoing this description of the
Blake transmitter, noting how the details are combined
and how the less important items are subordinated to the
more important: —

The Blake transmitter consisted of a small black-walnut box,
nearly square in form and having a funnel-shaped hole cut in the
door to s^rve as s^ mouthpiece. Within the bo^ was a^ soft iron

108 DESCRIPTION.

diaphragm and suspended parallel to its centre was a polished
button of pure carbon. Between the two hung a German -silver
spring bearing a pellet of platinum which barely touched the centre
of the carbon. When the Blake transmitter was in use, the im-
pinging sound waves pressed the diaphragm against the platinum
and forced it with varying pressure against the carbon button.
This changing pressure varied the resistance opposed to the flow
of the battery current, which pulsated through the carbon and
into the primary winding of an induction coil or transformer,
where it was converted into an alternating current through the
inductive effects of the secondary winding, and passed out in
undulating or wave-like form into the line or subscriber circuit,
thence through the copper wire in the green-covered telephone cord
attached to the receiver, and on into the wire wound on the elec-
tro-magnet. Energizing the latter varied the attractive or pulling
power of the pole pieces, thus causing the receiver diaphragm to
vibrate in a manner exactly reproducing the vibratory motion of
the transmitting diaphragm, and setting up a series of sound waves
in the receiver exactly corresponding to those produced by the
vocal cords of the speaker. — Popular Science Monthly, May, 1907.

A still more complete fusion of the details into a single
picture is seen in the following example : —

The sting is a bee's only weapon. It is not the single spear
that it appears to the naked eye, but consists of three prongs each
beautifully grooved into the others, thus forming a sort of tube
through which flows the poison from the sac to which the sting is
attached. As soon as the point of the sting enters the flesh, two
of the prongs, which are barbed, begin to work forward, alternately.
When one has been thrust forward, its barbs catch in the flesh and
hold while the other is being thrust forward, and this motion, which
also pumps the poison from the poison sac, is continued until the
sting has penetrated to its full length.

At the other end of the scale are descriptions in which
the main purpose of the writer is to give a vivid impression
of the object as a whole, especially as it is colored by his
temperament, his mood, or his imagination. Having ob-
served the object when he was angry, or terrified, op de-

KINDS OF DESCRIPTION. 109

spondent, or elated, he tries to make his readers see it in the
same light, A vivid imagination will give these qualities
to passages of almost pure enumeration : —

I ran my eye over the ship. The scene had that sort of morbid
tragic interest to me which the architecture and furniture of a
prison cell takes for one who is to pass many months in it. I
beheld a long white deck, extending from the taffrail into the
bows, with several structures breaking the wide, lustrous conti-
nuity of it ; one forward was the galley, the ship's kitchen ; on
this side of it was a large boat with sheep bleating inside her ;
whilst underneath was a sty full of pigs, flanked by hencoops
whose bars throbbed with the ceaseless protrusion and withdrawal
of the flapping combs of cocks and the heads of hens. Near us
was a great square hatch covered with a tarpaulin, and further aft,
as the proper expression is, was a big glazed frame for the admis-
sion of light into the cabin ; some distance past it, a sort of box
curved in the aspect of a hood, called the companionway, con-
ducted you below. At the end of the ship was the wheel, like a
circle of flame, with the brass work of it flashing to the sun, and
immediately in front stood the compass-box, or binnacle, glittering
like the wheel, and trembling to its height upon the white planks
like a short pillar of fire. — W. C. Russell: A Three-stranded Yarn.

In such descriptions especial care must be taken to observe
the principles which have been presented above. The slight-
est departure from the purpose, the admission of a single
detail not needed for the impression sought to be conveyed,
or the omission of a detail which is needed for the picture,
the least variation from the natural and effective order, the
least over-emphasis of an unimportant detail, will throw
the picture into disorder and destroy the illusion. The
task of writing a perfect description of this kind is like that
of painting a perfect picture. In fine work such as this
every brush-stroke counts, and a stroke in the wrong place
will mar the whole effect.

In description of this kind success depends also to a great
extent upon the use of words and phrases which appeal to

110 DESCRIPTION.

the emotions and the imagination. Of especial value are
so-called suggestive expressions, which, meaning perhaps
little in themselves, can induce moods and arouse whole
trains of images, a single word sometimes serving to call up
a picture which could not be described in detail in an entire
paragraph.

The harper thrummed with rapid fingers ; the violin player
flashed his bow back and forth across the strings; the flautist
poured his breath in quick puffs of jollity, while Donatello shook
the tambourine above his head, and led the merry throng with
unwearied steps. As they followed one another in a wild ring of
mirth, it seemed the realization of one of those bas-reliefs where a
dance of nymphs, satyrs, or bacchanals is twined round the circle
of an antique vase ; or it was like the sculptured scene on the front
and sides of a sarcophagus, where, as often as any other device, a
festive procession mocks the ashes and white bones that are treas-
ured up within. You might take it for a marriage-pageant ; but
after a while, if you look at these merry-makers, following them
from end to end of the marble coffin, you doubt whether their gay
movement is leading them to a happy close. A youth has sud-
denly fallen in the dance ; a chariot is overturned and broken,
flinging the charioteer headlong to the ground; a maiden seems
to have grown faint or weary and is drooping on the bosom of a
friend. Always some tragic incident is shadowed forth or thrust
sidelong into the spectacle ; and when once it has caught your eye
you can look no more at the festal portions of the scene except
with reference to this one slightly suggesting doom and sorrow.

— Hawthorne : The Marble Faun.

The magnificence of that moonlight scene gave me no deeper
joy than I won from the fine spectacle of an old man whom I saw
burning coffee one night in the little court behind my lodgings,
and whom 1 recollect now as one of the most interesting people I
saw in my first days at Venice. All day long the air had reeked
with the odors of the fragrant berry, and all day long this patient
old man — sage, let me call him — had turned the sheet-iron cylin-
der in which it was roasting over an open fire after the picturesque
fashion of roasting coffee iu Vepice. Now that the night hatj

K1NJ)8 OF DESCRIPTION. Ill

fallen, and the stars shone down upon him, and the red of the flame
luridly illumined him, he showed more grand and venerable than
ever. Simple, abstract humanity has its own grandeur in Italy ;
and it is not hard here for the artist to find the primitive types
with which genius loves best to deal. As for this old man, he had
the beard of a saint, and the dignity of a senator, harmonized with
the squalor of a beggar, superior to which shone his abstract, un-
conscious grandeur of humanity. A vast and calm melancholy,
which had nothing to do with burning coffee, dwelt in his aspect
and attitude ; and if he had been some dread supernatural agency,
turning the wheel of fortune, and doing men, instead of coffee,
brown, he could not have looked more sadly and weirdly impres-
sive. When, presently, he rose from his seat, and lifted the cylin-
der from its place, and the clinging flames leaped after it, and he
shook it, and a volume of luminous smoke enveloped him and
glorified him — then I felt with secret anguish that he was beyond
art, and turned sadly from the spectacle of that sublime and hope-
less magnificence. — W. D. Howells : Venetian Life.

Besides the singing and calling, there is a peculiar sound which
is only heard in summer. Waiting quietly to discover what birds
are about, I become aware of a sound in the very air. It is not the
midsummer hum which will soon be heard over the heated hay in
the valley and over the cooler hills alike. It is not enough to be
called a hum, and does but just tremble at the extreme edge of
hearing. If the branches wave and rustle they overbear it ; the
buzz of a passing bee is so much louder, it overcomes all of it in
the entire field. I cannot define it, except by calling the hours of
winter to mind — they are silent ; you hear a branch crack or creak
as it rubs another in the wood, you hear the hoar frost crunch on
the grass beneath your feet, but the air is without sound in itself.
The sound of summer is everywhere — in the passing breeze, in
the hedge, in the broad-branching trees, in the grass as it swings ;
all the myriad particles that together make the summer varied are
in motion. The sap moves in the trees, the pollen is pushed out
from grass and flower, and yet again these acres and acres of leaves
and square miles of grass blades — for they would cover acres and
square miles if reckoned edge to edge — are drawing their strength
from the atmosphere. Exceedingly minute as these vibrations
must be, their numbers perhaps may give them a volume almost

112 NAnnATION.

reaching in the aggregate to the power of the ear. Besides the
quivering leaf, the swinging grass, the fluttering bird's wing, and
the thousand oval membranes which innumerable insects whirl
about, a faint resonance seems to come from the very earth itself.
The fervor of the sunbeams descending in a tidal flood rings on
the strung harp of earth. It is this exquisite undertone, heard and
yet unheard, which brings the mind into sweet accordance with
the wonderful instrument of nature. — Richard Jefferies : The
Pageant of Summer,

Narration.

63. A narrative is the presentation in language of successive
related events occurring in time. Its distinctive feature is ac-
tion or change. It is in this respect that it differs most
widely from description, which represents an object as it
appears at a single moment. Narrative is indeed akin to
description in that it arouses images in the mind of the
reader, but these images do not fuse, as in description, into
a single picture ; they pass before us in a connected series,
each image pointing the way to the next until the end is
reached.

Every narrative involves some description ; a history, for
example, requires much descriptive matter ; but here, as in
other forms of narration the descriptive matter is merely sub-
sidiary and explanatory, and is kept subordinate to the main
purpose of reciting events as they occur, one after another.

Although narratives are of many different kinds, it will
serve our purpose best at this point to divide them into two
principal classes: (1) simple narratives and (2) complex
narratives, or narratives with plot. The leading principles
of all narrative will be considered in connection with the
first class. Plotted narratives, although they illustrate the
same principles as do simple incidents, are so peculiar in
their construction that they will be best treated under a
separate heading.

UNITY. 118

64. Simple Narrative. — By a simple narrative is meant
a narrative in which the action pursues its course from start to
finish without check or delay. The series of events once set
going, one iiappening follows upon another until the natural
conclusion is attained. Such a narrative may be compared
to the progress of a boulder which has been started rolling
down a gently sloping hillside. Driven by the force of
gravitation, the stone rolls on its way with increasing speed
until it reaches the plain at the bottom, where, in time, its
momentum being exhausted, it comes naturally to rest. The
following is a good example of narrative of this kind : —

And the other fishing days when you got up before dawn and
stole downstairs to the dim kitchen. A drink of milk, a doughnut,
and a triangle of pie, then you stole out quietly to the barn and got
the spading-fork. Then the search, arraed with fork and tomato-
can, under the broad leaves of the rhubarb bed, back of the hen-
house and down by the cow barn, until you had enough worms for
the day*s sport. Then, of course, you left the fork sticking in the
ground — you never would learn to put things away — and started
off. Through the garden and orchard, stopping long enough for a
handful of currants and a pocketful of sopsavines — over the pas-
ture bars, eating a handful of huckleberries or low-bush black-
berries here and there. Into the wood road — ^ery dark and still
in the dawn — where you stepped along very quietly so as not to
disturb the bears. You knew perfectly well there were no bears,
but you rather enjoyed the creepy sensation. Then out through
the deep wet meadow grass to the river, where the sun was now
beginning to burn away the wisps of mist, and the red- winged
blackbirds were making a tremendous fuss over their housekeep-
ing. You reached the riverbank at the pout hole, or the big rock,
or the old willow (of course, you know the exact place), and then
you started fishing. — Atlantic Monthly,

65. The essential requisites of simple narrative — as of all
narrative — are unity, sequence, and climax.

66. Unity. — Unity in narrative has three aspects : unity
of purpose, of subject, and of action. The first requires

114 N ABLATION.

that throughout the course of the narrative the writer hold
consistently to a single idea or a single point of view (in
the larger sense of the term). This underlying idea may
be explicitly stated, as in the fable, it may be skilfully con-
cealed, as in most simple incidents, or it may be no more
than a peculiar atmosphere or tone which pervades the com-
position, as in the selection just quoted; but unless it is
present in one form or another, the narrative will impress
the thoughtful reader as pointless and not worth the telling.

Unity of subject requires that one and only one person op
thing form the centre of interest. Other persons or things
which may play a part in the series of incidents must be
subordinated, however interesting they may be in themselves.
The surest mark of the practised story-teller is his willing-
ness to sacrifice attractive material in order that attention
may be held to the principal subject.

Unity of action requires that a single line of progression
be made evident throughout the narrative. Having marked
out a straight and narrow path which he means to follow,
the writer presses steadily onward, looking neither to the
right nor to the left, until the end is reached. If other
lines of action are necessary, they are combined with the
main line and subordinated to it. The conclusion is kept
in view all the time and nothing is admitted which does
not carry the narrative forward towards it. This point
furnishes the centre of unity to a narrative. When it is
reached, the reason is apparent for all the details and inci-
dents that have been previously mentioned.

These three phases of unity are mutually helpful. Unity
of purpose, for example, compels unity of subject and tends
to keep the action within proper bounds.

67. Sequence. — The narrative writer sees clearly (what
his reader cannot see) the end for which all the incidents
are recounted and to which they all contribute. This sug-

SEQUENCE. 115

gests the chief rule of sequence : That sequence of events is
best in which each occurrence stated is necessary to the proper
understanding of its successor. The first event makes neces-
sary a second ; the second, a third ; and so on to the end of
the series. When the conclusion is reached, the reader,
looking back over the narrative, sees that each event, in its
proper place, was indispensable, and that the conclusion is
the inevitable outcome of all the events that preceded it.
In a well-written narrative the successive events are so
closely knit that no one of them can be taken out or re-
moved to another place without breaking up the continuity
of the whole.

The following illustrates this close sequence of events : —

On the roof of a meat store in Salem, Massachusetts, a clothes-
line was stretched and on it a wet handkerchief was hung to dry.
This was seized by the wind, and twisted around an electric wire ;
by means of its dampness, this handkerchief conducted the elec-
tricity along the wire, and brought it into communication with
other wires, running along which it reached the water-pipes in the
cellar. From these the electricity sprang to the stove, on which
stood a kettle of boiling fat, to which it communicated so strong
a light that a workman who was near thought the fat was burn-
ing. In attempting to take the kettle from the stove, he received
an electric shock which threw him against the wall. Pale with
terror, the man ran into a room back of the workshop. Another
workman, trying to bring him a glass of water, turned the brass
faucet of the water-pipe, and was immediately thrown against the
farthest corner of the room. For several minutes everything ap-
peared to be turned into a galvanic battery ; the nails on the wall
were red hot, the water-pipes spouted out flames, and even the
iron bands of the water pail showed signs of disturbance. Finally
the cause of 'the commotion was discovered and ended, as soon as
the wire was freed from the embrace of the wet handkerchief.

Events may be related either in the order in which they
occurred, that is, in the time-order, or in the order of cause
and effect. If possible, the two orders should coincide. In

116 NAB RATION.

the more abstract kinds of narrative such as the History ol
the Labor Movement, the Rise of Romanticism in England,
and the like, it is often best to take up one line of cause
and effect and arrange the selected events that belong to it in
the time-order ; then a second line of cause and effect with
its selected events, and so on,

68. Climax. — Every good narrative has a cumulative
effect ; that is, the events grow in interest as the story goes
on. This effect will come about naturally if the events
are told clearly and straightforwardly, since the better we
tmderstand a subject the more we are interested in it ; but
the effect may be greatly enhanced by a skilful selection and
arrangement of details. The expert story-teller, therefore,
reserves his more attractive incidents for the latter part of
the narrative. Climax is much more likely to be secured,
also, if the end of the narrative is kept in view from the be-
ginning and no detail is admitted which does not in some
way help to forward the action.

In the following account of the way in which a taxider-
mist mounts an animal for the museum, the interest is skil-
fully heightened, as the narrative goes on, by bringing into
prominence increasingly difl&cult features of the work : —

When an animal is received at the Museum of Natural History,
an elaborate series of measurements are at once taken from it in
the flesh. These are of invaluable assistance in the final work of
mounting. Next the taxidermist, equipped with modelling wax
and tools, goes to the Zoological Park and makes a miniature
model of the animal from the living specimen there. This small
model is prepared with great care, and the anatomy of each part
is worked out to the minutest detail. It is here that the real genius
of the modeller is shown — if he be an artist worthy of the name,
he can put into the animal the result of his study and observation,
and give it all the grace and beauty of life, with none of the stiff-
ness of a mechanical structure. After the small model has been
completed, the leg-bones and skull of the specimen to be mounted

SIMPLE NARRATIVE. XVI

are placed in position and wired; thus the general outline of th'cl
animal is given, and the basis of the life-sized model formed, ex-^
actly as a sculptor makes an armature for a large figure. On this
framework or skeleton wet clay is piled, until the mass corre-
sponds in some degree to the measurements taken from the animal
in the flesh, and then the artist begins with his modelling tools to
bring order out of chaos. Every part of the body is studied with
the utmost care, and every layer of muscle, every cord and tendon,
is reproduced exactly as it lies in a living animal. The sculptor
has the whole body under his control at once, for the legs and
neck are wired tightly and can be moved at will. From time to time
the skin of the animal is tried on over the clay body to insure an
exact fit, and any imperfections in the model are corrected.

When the manikin fits exactly, the last touches are given, and
there stands on the pedestal a perfect animal minus the skin, for
every layer of muscle and every cord is there, placed with the
knowledge of a scientist and the skill of an artist. A plaster mould
is then taken of the clay model, from which a cast is made. This
cast is very thin, and is lined with burlap, to combine strength and
durability with the minimum of weight. The clay model is now
discarded and the cast allowed to dry, after which it is dressed with
shellac to make it waterproof, and finally given a coat of glue.
Then the skin is adjusted and the seams neatly sewed up with
strong waxed twine. Contrary to the general idea, the ears, nose,
and eyes are left until the last, and are carefully worked out in
papier-mftch^. This is at once one of the most difficult and inter-
esting parts of the work, for the delicate lines of the nostrils and
the modelling of the eyes require the utmost skill and closest
study. In the eye lies the whole expression of the face, and the
animal is made or marred by this one detail. After the finishing
touches have been given, the specimen is set away to dry prepara-
tory to being placed in the particular group for which it may have
been designed.

69. The Elements of Simple Narrative. — A narrative
must begin at a definite point of time and in a definite place ;
it must develop its subject in a series of incidents ; it must
come to a fitting conclusion. Its constituent elements may

118 NARRATION.

therefore be said to be (1) the setting, that is, the time and
place in which it occurs, (2) the beginning of the action, (3)
the course of the action, (4) the conclusion. To these we
may add (5) the persons (characters) or things which take
part in the action, and (6) the purpose of the writer, already
referred to.

In the following simple narrative these elements are
readily distinguished. The place is an inn in a small Eng-
lish town. The time is two o'clock in the afternoon. The
action proper begins with the arrival of the narrator at the
inn. The events then follow in the order of their actual
occurrence, and the conclusion (of this part of the story) is
reached when the narrator has washed his hands and head
at the pump. The characters are the narrator, the landlord,
and the maid. The purpose is to entertain the reader by a
series of familiar incidents told in a spirited, humorous
way.

After walking about a dozen miles, I came to a town, where I
rested for the night. The next morning I set out again in the
direction of the northwest. I continued journeying for four days,
my daily journeys varying from twenty to twenty-five miles. Dur-
ing this time nothing occurred to me worthy of any special notice.
The weather was brilliant, and I rapidly improved both in strength
and spirits. On the fifth day, about two o'clock, I arrived at a
small town. Feeling hungry, I entered a decent-looking inn —
within a kind of bar I saw a huge, fat, landlord-looking person,
with a very pretty, smartly-dressed maiden. Addressing myself
to the fat man, " House 1 ". said I, " house 1 Can I have dinner,
house?"

"Young gentleman," said the huge fat landlord, "you are come
at the right time, dinner will be taken up in a few minutes, and
such a dinner," he continued, rubbing his hands, " as you will not
see every day in these times."

" I am hot and dusty," said I, " and should wish to cool my
hands and face."

^ Jenny I " said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, " show

COMPLEX NARRATIVE. 119

the gentleman into number seven that he may wash his hands and
face."

'^By no means," said I; << I am a person of primitive habits, and
there is nothing like the pump in weather like this."

" Jenny 1" said the landlord, with the same gravity as before,
" go with the young gentleman to the pump in the back kitchen,
and take a clean towel along with you."

Thereupon the rosy-faced, clean-looking damsel went to a drawer,
and producing a large, thick, but snowy-white towel, she nodded
to me to follow her ; whereupon I followed Jenny through a long
passage into the back kitchen.

And at the end of the back kitchen there stood a pump ; and
going to it, I placed my hands beneath the spout, and said, *'Pump,
Jenny " ; and Jenny incontinently, without laying down the towel,
pumped with one hand, and I washed and cooled my heated hands.

And, when my hands were washed and cooled, I took off my
neckcloth, and unbuttoning my shirt collar, I placed my head be-
neath the spout of the pump, and I said unto Jenny, " Now, Jenny,
lay down the towel, and pump for your life."

Thereupon Jenny, placing the towel on a line-horse, took the
handle of the pump with both hands and pumped over my head
as handmaid had never pumped before ; so that the water poured
in torrents from my head, my face, and my hair down upon the
brick floor.

And after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, I called
out with a half-strangled voice, " Hold, Jenny 1 " and Jenny de-
sisted. I stood for a few moments to recover my breath, then, tak-
ing the towel which Jenny proffered, I dried composedly my hands
and head, my face and hair; then, returning the towel to Jenny,
I gave a deep sigh and said, *' Surely this is one of the pleasant
moments of life*" — Borrow : Lavengro,

70. CompliBX Narrative. — Complex narrative (narrative
with plot, or plotted narrative) differs primarily from simple
narrative in that some check or hindrance is interposed to the
forward movement of the action. This leads to a conflict more
or less prolonged, to suspense regarding the outcome, to a
crisis, climax, or point of greatest tension, and to a con-

120 NARRATION.

elusion, or point at which the movement is brought to an
end.

If simple incident is compared to the movement of a
boulder rolling down a gentle declivity, complex narrative
may be compared to the descent of the same boulder down
a steeper slope on which there are other boulders, trees,
houses, and human beings. The rock, moving with increas-
ing swiftness, encounters on its way one or more of these^
obstacles. It strikes a tree and is deflected from its course;
it strikes a house and tears away a part of it, frightening the
inmates ; it strikes a man and kills him; ultimately perhaps,
it strikes another boulder, larger than itself, and is shat-^
tered to fragments.

Any simple narrative may be turned into narrative with
plot by inserting at the proper point an obstacle which
checks the progress of the action and leads to a struggle of
some kind. This fact is illustrated by the narratives below.
In the left-hand column is a simple incident, in the right-
hand column is the same incident transformed into a com-
plex narrative by the introduction of the thunder-storm,
the swollen streams, the flies, etc., as obstacles : —

At three in the morning we At three in the morning, we
left Leon for Galicia on horse- departed for Galicia. We had
back. The way led at first scarcely proceeded half a league
through a wood which extended when we were overtaken by a
for some distance in the direc- thunder-storm of tremendous
tion in which we were going, violence. We were at that time
After riding about five leagues in the midst of a wood which ex-
through a level country and tends to some distance in the di-
crossing several streams, we rection in which we were going,
began to enter the mountain- The trees were bowed almost to
ous district which surrounds the ground by the wind or torn
Astorga. A few hours later we up by the roots, whilst the earth
arrived at our destination. was ploughed up by the light-
ning, which burst all around and
nearly blinded us. The spirited

COMPLEX NARRATIVE. 121

Andalusian on which I rode be- enter the mountainous district

came furious, and^ bounded into which surrounds Astorga : the

the air as if possessed. Owing heat now became almost suffocat-

to my state of weakness, I had ing ; swarms of flies began to

the greatest difficulty in main- make their appearance, and set-

taining my seat, and avoiding tling down upon the horses,

a fall which might have been stung them almost to madness,

fatal. A tremendous discharge whilst the road was very flinty

of rain followed the storm, which and trying. It was with great

swelled the brooks and streams difficulty that we reached As-

and flooded the surrounding torga, covered with mud and

country, causing much damage dust, our tongues cleaving to

amongst the corn. After riding our palates with thirst,

about five leagues, we began to — Borrow : The Bible in Spain.

71. Elements of Complez Narrative. — The broad features
of complex narrative are the same as those of simple narra-
tive. Certain elements, however, are peculiar to it, and to
them we shall need to pay particular attention. They are
as follows : (1) the Obstacle, (2) the Plot, (3) the Characters,
(4) Suspense.

72. The Obstacle. — Since the obstacle is anything which
obstructs the movement and brings about a conflict, it may
take a great variety of forms, from the purely physical, as
in the narrative just quoted, to the purely mental or spirit-
ual as in the following, where the conflict takes place in the
mind of the character.

Godfrey rode along slowly, representing to himself the scene of
confession to his father from which he felt that there was now no
longer any escape. The revelation about the money must be made
the very next morning; and if he withheld the rest, Dunstan would
be sure to come back shortly, and, finding that he must bear the
brunt of his father's anger, would tell the whole story out of spite,
even though he had nothing to gain by it. There was one step,
perhaps, by which he might still win Dun Stan's silence and put ofE
the evil day : he might tell his father that he had himself spent
the money paid to him by Fowler ; and as he had never been guilty

122 NARRATION.

of such an offence before, the affair would blow over after a little
storming. But Godfrey could not bend himself to this. He felt
that in letting Dunstan have the money, he had already been guilty
of a breach of trust hardly less culpable than that of spending the
money directly for his own behoof ; and yet there was a distinction
between the two acts which made him feel that the one was so
much more blackening than the other as to be intolerable to him.
" I don't pretend to be a good fellow," he said to himself; "but
I'm not a scoundrel — at least, I'll stop short somewhere. I'll bear
the consequences of what I have done sooner than make believe
I've done what I never would have done. I'd never have spent
the money for my own pleasure — I was tortured into it.** — Greorge
Eliot : Silas Marner, chap. viiL

In the more serious kinds of narrative the obstacle may
be thought of as representing ideas, laws, customs, or social
conventions, with which the hero comes in conflict. In the
opening chapter of Silas Marner , Silas is opposed not only
by William Dane but by the customs and traditions of the
Lantern Yard brethren. Ivan hoe in the joust with Front
de Boeuf fights against the Norman ascendency. The
Talisman is the story of the struggle between the Occident,
represented by Richard, and the Orient, represented by
Saladin.

73. The Plot. — The series of events brought about by
the introduction of one or more obstacles is termed the
plot

A plot may be regarded as a complication or entangle-
ment in the relations of the actors, followed by a disentan-
gling or solution. As we read the narrative we see this
complication arise. We feel the growing intensity of the
clash between the actors. We follow the conflict to its
culmination at some point in the story. Finally we observe
the consequence, outcome, or conclusion of the whole matter.
We may illustrate these elements by outlining a simple
plot. A young lawyer who belongs to one of the leading

COMPLEX NARRATIVE. 128

political parties becomes a candidate for the office of Prose-
cuting Attorney in a district where the majority of the
voters belong to his own party. Since the office has always
been held by some member of this party, he thinks he is as
good as elected. An obstacle, however, soon appears in the
person of an opposing candidate, a shrewd and unscrupulous
politician, who has become possessed of evidences of corrupt
practices in the previous administration of the office. The
history of these practices is disclosed. There is intense in-
dignation. Many of the younger man's adherents go over to
the other party. The campaign is conducted with increas-
ing bitterness of feeling on both sides, which culminates
on the day before the election in a personal assault upon
the younger candidate by the henchmen of the elder. The
tide of sympathy and opinion now turns. The election is
held, and the younger man wins by a large majority.

In this outline we may detect three distinct parts of
the plot which deserve special attention. They are: (1)
the beginning, (2) the climax or height of interest, (3) the
conclusion.

74. The Beg^ning. — In the beginning part, sometimes
called the exposition, the time and place of the action are
told and the characters are introduced. The beginning
should not, however, be merely descriptive or reflective.
Since the essential feature of narrative is action, the story
should move forward from the very beginning; and, as it
moves, the setting and the characters should reveal them-
selves as elements of the plot. A fine illustration of the
way in which a skilful story-teller will make the setting
and characters appear as the action unfolds itself is seen in
the opening chapter of The Talisman : —

The burning sun of Syria had not yet attained its highest point
in the horizon, when a knight of the Red Cross, who had left his
(Jifitant northern home and joined the host of the Crusaders in

124 NARRATION.

Palestine, was pacing slowly along the sandy deserts which lie in
the vicinity of the Dead Sea, or, as it is called, the Lake Asphal
tites, where the waves of the Jordan pour themselves into an inland
sea, from which there is no discharge of waters.

The warlike pilgrim had toiled among cliffs and precipices
during the earlier part of the morning ; more lately, issuing from
tiiose rocky and dangerous defiles, he had entered upon that great
plain, where thfe accursed cities provoked, in ancient days, the
direct and dreadful vengeance of the Omnipotent. . . ,

As the Knight of the Couchant Leopard continued to fix his
eyes attentively on the yet distant cluster of palm trees, it seemed
to him as if some object was moving among them. The distant
form separated itself from the trees, which partly hid its motions,
and advanced towards the knight with a speed which soon showed
a mounted horseman, whom his turban, long spear, and green caftan
floating in the wind, on his nearer approach, showed to be a Sara-
cen cavalier. " In the desert," saith an Eastern proverb, " no man
meets a friend." The Crusader was totally indifferent whether
the infidel, who now approached on his gallant barb, as if borne
on the wings of an eagle, came as friend or foe; perhaps as a
Yowed champion of the Cross, he might rather have preferred the
latter. He disengaged his lance from his saddle, seized it with the
right hand, placed it in rest with its point half elevated, gathered
up the reins in the left, waked his horse's mettle with the spur, and
prepared to encounter the stranger with the calm self-confidence
belonging to the victor in many contests.

With the appearance of the obstacle — the Saracen in
this case — the conflict begins, and the plot, as the saying is,
thickens.'

75. The Climax. — In every complex narrative there is
a centre of interest, a culminating point to which the nar-
rative looks forward. This may not come until the very
end, but usually it occurs at a little distance from the end.
It is at this point that the conflict Teaches its highest ten-
sion and suspense is consequently greatest. This juncture
in the series of events is known technically as the climax^ or

COMPLEX NARRATIVE. 126

point of highest interest. It has also been called the turn-
ing-point, because at this point the readers interest usu-
ally undergoes a change : in all that precedes he is interested
in the conflict ; in all that follows he is interested in the
outcome of the conflict.

In the following narrative the climax is probably to be
found in the words, " The burn was roaring now." Up to
this point we are interested in the way in which the min-
ister struggles against the prejudices of the Auld Lichts;
from this point on we are interested in the result of his
exposure.

Many years have elapsed since Providence flung Mr. Watts out
of the Auld Licht kirk. Mr. Watts was a probationer who was
tried before Mr. Dishart, and, though not so young as might have
been wished, he found favor in many eyes. " Sluggard in the laft,
awake 1 " he cried to Belle Whamond, who had forgotten herself,
and it was felt that there must be good stuif in him. A breeze
from heaven exposed him on Communion Sabbath.

On the evening of this solemn day the door of the Atdd Licht
kirk was sometimes locked, and the congregation repaired, Bible
in hand, to the commonty. They had a right to this common on
the Communion Sabbath, but only took advantage of it when it
was believed that more persons intended witnessing the evening
services than the kirk would hold. On this day the attendance
was always very great.

It was the Covenanters come back to life. To the summit of
the slope a wooden box was slowly hurled by Hendry Munn and
others, and round this the congregation quietly grouped to the
tinkle of the cracked Auld Licht bell. With slow, majestic tread
the session advanced up the steep common, with the little minister
in their midst. He had the people in his hands now, and the more
he squeezed them the better they were pleased. The travelling pul-
pit consisted of two compartments, the one for the minister and the
other for Lang Tanimas, but no Auld Licht thought that it looked
like a Punch and Judy puppet show. 'J'his sei-vice on the common
was known as the "tent preaching," owing to a tent being fre-
quently used instead of the box. Mr. Watts was conducting the

126 NARRATION.

services on the common ty. It was a fine, still summer evening,
and loud above the whisper of the burn from which the common
climbs, and the labored " pechs " of the listeners, rose the preacher's
voice. The Auld Lichts i^ tiieir rusty blacks — they must have
been a more artistic sight in the olden days of blue bonnets and
knee-breeches — nodded their heads in sharp approval ; for though
they could swoop down on a heretic like an eagle on carrion, they
scented no prey. Even Lang Tammas, on whose nose a drop of
water gathered when he was in his greatest fettle, thought that all
was fair and above board. Suddenly a rush of wind tore up the com-
mon, and ran straight at the pulpit. It formed in a sieve, and passed
over the heads of the congregation, who felt it as a fan, and looked
up in awe. Lang Tammas, feeling himself all at once grow clammy,
distinctly heard the leaves of the pulpit Bible shiver. Mr. Watts's
hands, outstretched to prevent a catastrophe, were blown against
his side, and then some twenty sheets of closely written paper
floated into the air. There was a horrible dead silence. The burn
was roaring now. The minister, if such he can be called, shrunk
back in his box, and, as if they had seen it printed in letters of fire
on the heavens, the congregation realized that Mr. Watts, whom
they had been on the point of calling, read his sermon. He wrote
it out on pages the exact size of those in the Bible and did hot
scruple to fasten these into the Holy Book itself. At theatres, a
sullen thunder of angry voices behind the scene represents a crowd
in a rage, and such a low, long-drawn howl swept the common
when Mr. Watts was found out. To follow a pastor who "read"
seemed to the Auld Lichts like claiming heaven on false pretences.
In ten minutes the session alone, with Lang Tammas and Hendry,
were on the common. They were watched by many from afar off,
and, when one comes to think of it now, looked a little curious
jumping, like trout at flies, at the damning papers still fluttering in
the air. The minister was never seen in our parts again, but he is
still remembered as "Paper Watts." — Barrie: Auld Licht Idylls.

76. The Conclusion. — After the climax the interest of the
reader takes on, as has been said, a different character.
-Directed, in the earlier part of the narrative, upon the con-
flict, it now shifts to the outcome or explanation. The

COMPLEX NAUBATIVE. 127

reader wishes to learn the consequences of the battle, the
fate of the hero, the solution of the mystery. It is the busi-
ness of the conclusion to satisfy his curiosity in regard to
these matters, and thus to bring the series of events to a
fitting term ination. Since the conclusion, like the beginning,
is an organic part of the plot, it must not be an arbitrary
cutting-off of the action, but a natural and necessary out-
come of the events that have preceded it

/ The conclusion may be of at least four different kinds :

1. Tragic, when the chief character, encountering an ob-
stacle which his own act has raised up, is overcome.

2. Pathetic, when the outcome, actually unfortunate,
might. have been otherwise.

3. Cheeyful, when the character, after a serious conflict,
succeeds in overcoming the obstacle.

4. Humorous, when the conflict turns out to have been
based upon a misapprehension.

The tragic conclusion is exemplified in Poe's Fall of the
House of Usher, the pathetic, in Hale's Man without a
Country and Allen's Tlie Choir Invisible. David Copperjield
is a good instance of a novel with a cheerful ending. The
humorous conclusion is too common to need illustration, but
perhaps Aldrich's Marjorie Daio reveals most clearly the
elements which give to it its peculiar quality.

77. Characters of the Story. — In the greater number of
fictitious narratives the plot arises from a conflict between
persons. The hero, or chief character of the story, in his
progi'ess toward the goal of his desire is opposed by a second
character. The plot then takes the form of a contest be-
tween the two, the minor characters ranging themselves on
one side or the other according to their interests.

The actions of the characters are determined in part by
forces from within, in part by forces from without. The
inward forces are, in general, dispositions, feelings, and

128 NABRATION.

acts of the will. A man is driven to some course of action
by ambition, love, despair, jealousy, or other emotion. Con-
fronted by a choice of good and evil, he decides to take one
course or the other — that is he exerts his will — and a train
of consequences follows.

The outward forces are such as arise from the surround-
ings — the so-called environment — or from stress of circum-
stances. They may be either natural or social. A simple
illustration of the former class is seen in the effect of the
weather upon the temper of certain persons. Less super-
ficial examples are to be found in Hawthorne's Great Stone
Face and Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native, in which
natural scenery affects profoundly both character and con-
duct. The term social forces may be applied to the influ-
ences which proceed from the nature of the community in
which the character moves. They are usually embodied in
institutions such as the family, the state, and the church,
with their peculiar laws, customs, conventions, and dogmas.
Public opinion may also be included under this head. For
good examples of the operation of social forces of various
kinds the student may turn to IvanJioe, where he will notice
that each class of society is constrained by its peculiar tra-
ditions : Wamba must submit to the laws of serfdom, the
Templar to the rules of his order, Ivanhoe to the conven-
tions of chivalry, even the King to the rights of the barons
and to public sentiment.

Accident is frequently employed as an outward force in
narrative, but it should be used sparingly and with caution.
Accidents do happen, and when they happen, they may lead
to important consequences ; but a too frequent use of this
device tends to break, or at least seriously to weaken, the
threads of cause and effect which should bind together all
parts of the narrative into a single web.

Although a character may be shown as acting under the
exclusive domination either of inward or of outward forces,

COMPLEX NARRATIVE. 129

in the best narratives the two are intimately connected.
The emotions and the volitions which arise within the mind
are shown to be in large part the outcome of the situations in
which the character is involved.

The forces which drive characters to action are known as
motwes. An action which appears to be the natural out-
come of a character's disposition under the given circum-
stances is said to be properly motived or motivated. Actions
which are not adequately motivated strike the reader as
forced and unnatural; the characters appear to act as the
writer wishes them to act, not as real characters would act
in the same situations.

Character may be either real, as in historical narrative,
or fictitious, as in novels and short stories, but even in the
latter case the best characters are those which are taken
from real life. The young writer will do well to follow the
example of the great novelists in this particular. Instead
of trusting to his imagination alone, he should carefully ob-
serve the persons whom he knows best or whom he finds
most interesting. Such characters can and should be modi-
fied to suit the purposes of the narrative in which they are
made to play a part.

Certain types of character are better suited than others
for the uses of plotted narrative. It is especially to be
noted that an excess of any one quality, good or bad, is
likely to raise up obstacles and so to bring about conflicts.
Absent-mindedness, one-sidedness, conservatism, radicalism,
obstinacy, prejudice, pride, ambition, bashfulness, innocence,
timidity, deceitfulness, carelessness, selfishness, vanity,
treachery, — such characteristics as these easily involve the
hero Di a story in difficulties and give opportunity for the
development of an interesting plot.

78. Suspense. — Suspense is the attitude of expectant
curiosity with which we watch the development of the plot.

130 N AERATION.

It is one of the most powerful sources of interest in narra-
tive, but to use it properly and make the most of it requires
much skill. If the plot moves too rapidly the reader's
curiosity is satisfied before it is fully aroused ; if the plot
moves too slowly the narrative becomes tedious and the
reader is inclined to " skip." To make the reader wait, but
not to make him wait too long, is a rule which good story-
writers try to observe.

Suspense is advisable just before the culminating point
of interest is reached, and it is secured usually by introduc-
ing descriptive details or explanations. Sometimes suspense
is secured by beginning at some point along in the story,
the events leading up to the first scene being afterward in-
troduced as an explanation, or as a part of a subsequent
conversation between two of the characters. Description
detains the attention, but it must be relevant, or its intro-
duction is resented by the reader. In most parts of a
narrative, however, movement rather than suspense is de-
sirable, and this is secured by reducing or omitting descrip-
tions, by hurrying over details and condensing lesser actions
and events as much as possible. Especially is movement
desirable when the culmination or principal action is
reached, and, in general, those parts of a narrative which
portray rapid action should show it by a hurried manner of
treatment.

79. Helps to Narration. — It has already been indicated
that description is frequently used in narratives of all kinds.
Usually description forms the introduction of a scene or
story, giving it a time and a place and an air of reality.
Character descriptions and portrait sketches are also era-
ployed in narratives, and their use is obvious both for detain-
ing the attention upon the chief characters of interest, and
for aiding in the appreciation of the subsequent actions of
the characters. Contrasts of characters are another help to

COMPLEX NARRATIVE, 131

narration: two unlike characters serving to set each other
off and to give greater distinction to both. Contrasts of
scenes are also helpful : scenes which are full of action al-
ternating with scenes of a comparatively quiet character.
Transitions are everywhere important but nowhere more so
than in narration. When to indicate plainly a change of
scene, and when to leave the change to be inferred is a
problem^ best solved by noticing the practice of the standard
writers of narratives. Episodes afford relief to a reader
when they are introduced into a long narrative of intense
action, but are elsewhere out of place : the short story and
the narrative of adventure are hindered rather than helped
by the introduction of episodes.

Conversation gives life and variety to narrative and is one
of the most interesting and effective ways of presenting
character. Its proper management, however, is by no means
easy. The main principles to be observed are : —

1. Conversation should have point and purpose. It
should either (a) bring out some trait of character essential
to the understanding of the plot, or (b) should help carry
on the action. The best conversation does both.

2. The personages of the narrative should speak " in
character,^' that is, they should say what is natural to them
in the given situation.

Conversation, no matter how brilliant or amusing, which
does not fulfil these two requirements, is digression, and
should be rigidly excluded.

The following is a good example of brightly written
conversation, in which every speech helps to reveal the
character of the speaker and at the same time to bring out
the main point of the dialogue : —

As I sat there, gazing now at the blue heavens, now at the downs
before me, a man came along the road in the direction in which I
had hitherto been proceeding: just opposite to me he stopped, and,
looking at me, cried — " Am 1 right for London, master ? "

132 NARRATION.

He was dressed like a sailor, and appeared to be between twenty-
five and thirty years of age — he had an open manly countenance,
and there was a bold and fearless expression in his eye.

" Yes," said I, in reply to his question ; " this is one of the ways
to London. Do you come from far?"

"From ," said the man, naming a well-known sea-port.

"Is this the direct road to London from that place?" I de-
manded.

" No," said the man; "but I had to visit two or three other
places on certain commissions I was intrusted with; amongst

others to , where I had to take a small sum of money* I

am rather tired, master ; and, if you please, I will sit down beside
you."

" You have as much right to sit down here as I have," said I,
"the road is free for every one; as for sitting down beside me,
you have the look of an honest man, and I have no objection to
your company."

" Why, as for being honest, master," said the man, laughing and
sitting down beside me, " I hav'n't much to say — many is the wild
thing I have done when I was younger; however, what is done, is
done. To learn, one must live, master; and I have lived long
enough to learn the grand point of wisdom."

"What is that?" said L

" That honesty is the best policy, master."

" You appear to be a sailor," said I, looking at his dress.

" I was not bred a sailor," said the man, " though when my foot
is on salt water, I can play the part — and play it well too. I am
now from a long voyage."

"From America?" said L

" Farther than that," said the man.

" Have you any objection to tell me ? " said I.

" From New South Wales," said the man, looking me full in the
face.

" Dear me," said L

" Why do you say * Dear me * ? " said the man.

" It is a very long way off," said I.

" W^as that your reason for saying so ? " said the man.

" Not exactly," said I.

"No," said the man, with something of a bitter smile; "it was

EXPOSITION. 133

something else that made you say so ; you were thinklDg of tha
convicts."

**Well/* said I, "what then — you are no convict."

" How do you know ? "

** You do not look like one."

" Thank you, master," said the man, cheerfully ; " and to a cer-
tain extent, you are right — bygones are bygones — I am no longer
what I was, nor ever will be again ; the truth, however, is the truth
— a convict I have been — a convict at Sydney Cove." — Borrow:
Lavengro.

Exposition.

80. The Nature of Exposition. — Description aims to
make the reader see the image of an object as the writer
saw the object itself. Description pictures things ; it offers
itself as a substitute for original seeing, hearing, touching,
smelling, tasting. Exposition, or explanation, goes deeper.
Exposition aims to make the reader understand the meaning or
significance of the object as the writer understands this mean-
ing or significance. Exposition interests us in the idea of the
thing, in some theory about the thing, in some explanation
of the thing rather than in the thing itself. It may employ
descriptive details, but its main concern is with the notion of
the thing.

In the following, for example, Euskin is not describing a
particular pool of water, but is explaining to us the idea which
he announces in the last sentence of the quotation, — an idea
that suggests itself to him as he looks into any pool.

The fact is, that there is hardly a roadside pond or pool which
has not as much landscape in it as above it. It is not the brown,
muddy, dull thing we suppose it to be ; it has a heart like our-
selves, and in the bottom of that there are the boughs of the tall
trees, and the blades of the shaking grass, and all manner of hues,
of variable, pleasant light out of the sky ; nay, the ugly gutter, that
stagnates over the drain bars, in the heart of the foul city, is not
altogether base ; down in that, if you will look deep enough, you
may see the dark, serious blue of far-off sky, and the passing of

134 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

pure clouds. It is at your own will that you see in that despised
stream, either the refuse of the street, or the image of the sky — so
it is with almost all other things that we unkindly despise.

— Modern Painters, Vol. I.

Gardens and towers and other descriptive details are
mentioned in the following, but the purpose of the writer
(Matthew Arnold) is not to give us an image of Oxford ; it
is to explain to us the influence of Oxford through the ages.

Beautiful cityl so venerable, so lovely, so unravaged by the
fierce intellectual life of our century, so serene 1

" There are our young barbarians, all at play I "
And yet, steeped in sentiment as she lies, spreading her gardens
to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last en-
chantments of the Middle Age, who will deny that Oxford, by her
ineffable charm, keeps ever calling us nearer to the true goal of all
of us, to the ideal, to perfection, — to beauty, in a word, which is
only truth seen from another side ? — nearer, perhaps, than all the
science of Ttibingen. Adorable dreamer, whose heart has been so
romantic 1 who hast given thyself so prodigally, given thyself to sides
and to heroes not mine, only never to the Philistines 1 home of lost
causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular names, and impossible
loyalties I what example could ever so inspire us to keep down the
Philistine in ourselves, what teacher could ever so save us from that
bondage to which we are all prone, that bondage which Goethe, in
his incomparable lines on the death of Schiller, makes it his friend's
highest praise (and nobly did Schiller deserve the praise) to have
left miles out of sight behind him; the bondage of "was uns alle
hdndigty das gemeineI " She will forgive me, even if I have un-
wittingly drawn upon her a shot or two aimed at her unworthy
son; for she is generous, and the cause in which I fight is, after all,
hers. Apparitions of a day, what is our puny warfare against the
Philistines, compared with the warfare vfhich this queen of ro-
mance has been waging against them for centuries, and will wage
after we are gone? — Arnold: Essays in Criticism, First Series.

The following is confessedly explanatory, and may be
taken as a typical specimen of exposition of the direct
didactic sort : —

EXPOSITION. 135

Science is, I believe, Dothing but trained and organized common
sense, differing from the latter only as a veteran may differ from a
raw recruit : and its methods differ from those of common sense
only as far as the guardsman's cut and thrust differ from the
manner in which a savage wields his club. The primary power is
the same in each case, and perhaps the untutored savage has the
more brawny arm of the two. The real advantage lies in the point
and polish of the swordsman's weapon ; in the trained eye quick
to spy out the weakness of the adversary ; in the ready hand prompt
to follow it on the instant. But, after all, the sword exercise is
only the hewing and poking of the clubman developed and per-
fected.

So, the vast results obtained by Science are won by no mystical
faculties, by no mental processes, other than those which are prac-
tised by every one of us, in the humblest and meanest affairs of
life. A detective policeman discovers a burglar by the marks made
by his shoe, by a mental process identical with that by which
Cuvier restored the extinct animals of Montraartre from fragments
of their bones. Nor does that process of induction and deduction
by which a lady, finding a stain of a peculiar kind upon her dress,
concludes that somebody has upset the inkstand thereon, differ in
any way, in kind, from that by which Adams and Leverrier dis-
covered a new planet.

The man of science, in fact, simply uses with scrupulous exact-
ness the methods which we all, habitually and at every moment,
use carelessly; and the man of business must as much avail himself
of the scientific method — must be as truly a man of science — as
the veriest bookworm of us all ; though I have no doubt that the
man of business will find himself out to be a philosopher with as
much surprise as M. Jourdain exhibited when he discovered that
he had been all his life talking prose. — Huxley: The Scientijic
Method,

81. CharacteriBtics of Exposition. — We notice the fol-
lowing characteristics in the preceding quotations from
Ruskin, Arnold, and Huxley : —

(1) The subject about which the writer is discoursing is
an idea, a notion, a theory, a concept, or even a whole phi-

186 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

losophy ; and not a particular thing that appeals to one of
the five senses. It is what the right-minded person will see
in despised things that Ruskin is explaining to us ; what
Oxford means to Arnold as an enemy of Philistinism that
engages our attention ; what science really is that Huxley is
defining for us.

(2) The writer feels that the subject needs explanation ; it
is misunderstood by most people ; he has found an explana-
tion that simplifies the whole complex matter ; and he offers
his simple explanation in order to" make a hard thing easy
to understand. Ruskin feels that his notion about pools is
true, and new, and enlightening ; Arnold is sure that he has
stated for us the mission of Oxford as it has never been
stated before, and that it must command our immediate
assent; Huxley makes us feel that this new notion of
science as trained and organized common sense might have
occurred to any of us, if we had only thought long enough
about the matter. /

(3) The writer speaks from personal experience. He is
offering us an explanation that he has thought out, or hit
upon, himself ; and, consequently, he assumes the rdle of
teacher with confidence. Like all good teachers, he aims,
chiefly, to make himself understood clearly. The explana-
tion which he makes out of his personal experience is a new
explanation, the only true explanation, and pains must be
taken to avoid all possible misunderstanding; he must use
words that are familiar, must illustrate his idea constantly,
must proceed from old and familiar things to the less familiar
and the new.

(4) The result of the writer's effort is finally (a) to satisfy
our desire to reach a definition of a thing or idea whose
boundaries have been vague ; and (6) to satisfy our instinct
for classification, Ruskin is not only helping us to a wider
notion of pools and their lessons to man, and thus to a better
definition of them, but he is helping us to place tliem m tb©

EXPOSITION. 137

class of things that are spiritually valuable. Arnold is not
only defining Oxford as a force in civilization, but he is also
leading us to discriminate between educational institutions
as either (1) those that work for true ideals or (2) those
that easily surrender to the false ideals of the passing day.
Huxley is not only defining science ; he is also providing us,
with an analysis of all knowledge as either (1) trained and
organized, or (2) untrained and unorganized. We shall next
consider this twofold process of exposition, — definition, and
classification, through analysis.

82. The Process of Exposition. Analysis. — The process
of exposition is always an analysis of the idea to be ex-
pounded, — an analysis ending in a partial or complete defini-
tion and classification of the idea. Whether the definition and
classification reached by the writer is partial or complete
depends (1) upon the possibilities of the particular case in
hand, and (2) upon the immediate purpose of the writer.

(1) As to the possibilities of perfect and complete defini-
tion and classification, it is doubtful if that has ever been,
or ever can be, attained. The progress of knowledge seems
to render perfect and complete definition and classification
an impossibility. If, for instance, evolution be confidently
defined as " the progressive modification of species by the
agency of natural selection," some keen observer, like John
Fiske, is sure to come forward with a further modification,
— " the prolongation of infancy," ^ — which may make neces-
sary a qualification of the definition, or an addition to it.
There has never been a classification of any subject that has
proved to be permanent, or even thoroughly satisfactory to
the maker at the time he made it ; for something significant
is always left out, something exceptional is still to be pro-
vided for.

1 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy ^ Ft. II., ch. xvi., 21, 22.

138

EXPOSITION.

(2) All that we can hope for in working towards a defini-
tion or a classification, therefore, is that it will serve our
immediate purpose, — to render perfectly clear to our reader
the idea that we wish to convey, and to provide room for all
of the thoughts that we wish to present. In learning to do
this, however, we shall be helped by considering perfect and
complete definition and classification as a possibility ; and
by observing the rules for logical definition, and for logical
division, as far as we may observe them.

83. BulcB for Logical Definition. — To define an idea is to
put it in its appropriate class and then to show how it dif-
fers from the other members of that class. The class is
called the genus; the characteristic which distinguishes the
idea from others in the same class is called the differentia.

Thb Idea.

Thb Genus.

Art is

the conscious utterance

Literature is . .

of thought by speech

or action

the written record of

to any end.

valuable thought .* .

having other than
merely practical pur-

Nature is. . . .

a collective name for
all facts, or a name for
the mode in which all
things take place, — a
conception which might
be formed of their man-
ner of existence as a

poses.

mental whole . . .

by a mind possessing
a complete knowledge
of them.

LOGICAL DEFINITION.

189

Thk Idea.

The Gbnus.

The DiFrBBENTiA.

Laws of Nature are

general propositions

expressing

the conditions of the
invariable occurrence
of phenomena.

God is

the enduring power
which makes for right-
eousness.

— not ourselves —

Style is . . . .

proper words ....

in proper places.

Criticism is . . .

a disinterested en-
deavor to learn and

propagate

the best that is known
and thought in the
world.

Bule 1. — The logical definition should exclude from the class
all that does not belong in the class. Thus in the idea of
Art, as defined by Emerson above, there is no room for any-
beautiful thing that is not purposive. The words " to any
end" compel us to exclude from the domain of art every-
thing that is without theme and purpose. All " happy hits "
as Emerson himself calls them, — all " accidents," belong in
another class.

Bule 2. — The logical definition should include in the class
all that does belong in the class. Thus, on scrutinizing Mor-
ley's definition of literature above, we see that he has in-
cluded all that gives pleasure, all that gives a personal point
of view, all that hints at the man writing, all that we call
style. Nothing is excluded from this definition that should
be included in it.

Bule 3. — The logical definition should be expressed in terms
that are simpler and more familiar than the term defined* Mill
has a hard task in hand when he attempts to define the term

140 EXPOSITION.

Nature. He simplifies it for us, however, when he uses the
words, " aU factSy^' and then moves on to the expression " the
mode in which all things take place," and finally to " a
conception,^' etc. Here is a perfect illustration of good ex-
position, which makes hard things easy by proceeding from
the familiar to the more remote.

Bnle 4. — The logical definition should be as brief as possible
and should not introduce any derivative of t^ie word to be defined.
In looking closely at Mill's definition of the laws of Nature
above, we are moved to admiration of the brevity of state-
ment. We experience a shock when we read that these laws
are really only " general propositions," or forms of words ;
but on thinking further we see clearly (what he wishes us
to see) that these laws are, after all, nothing more than man^s
truest statement of the facts that he has observed. We
see, also, how a bungler would easily have fallen into the
blunder of using the word natural where Mill uses the
word invariable, No one, who has not tried seriously to
make a satisfactory definition for himself, can appreciate
the brevity, the economy, the felicity, of Matthew Arnold's
differentia, — "not ourselves"; or Dean Swift's "proper
words, in proper places." There is often something dy-
namic in real definition; Matthew Arnold's definition of
criticism includes a call to missionary effort.

It must be remembered that the final definition stands
at the very end of a long process of trial and experiment.
The best way to secure acceptance of your final definition is
to record all of the thoughts, reflections, new starts, and
inspirations, conclusions, and modification of conclusions,
that have come to you while thinking in the direction of a
final definition. You may be sure that the best method to
pursue in writing a definitive essay is to give an honest ac-
count of your own mental experience while thinking of the
idea to be expounded. There will be, on the way, partial
definitions, perhaps wrong definitions, corrected and en-

LOGICAL DIVISION. 141

larged definitions, definitions modified by new facts ascer-
tained by reading. All of these should be faithfully recorded
with full explanation, and illustration, if your reader is to
be put into the frame of mind in which he will accept your
final definition.

84. Bules for Logical Divisioii. — Complementary to logi-
cal definition is the analysis that leads to a logical division
of the subject, — to a satisfactory classification of one's
material. Here, again, it must be noted that a perfect and
complete division and classification is hardly to be attained.
The thing to be aimed at is such a division as will simplify
matters and subserve the immediate purpose of the writer,
enabling him to convey to the reader the idea which he has
in mind with brevity, economy, and a measure of grace.
The division of the subject offers to the expository writer
his greatest opportunity. He may divide his material so
that the important things cannot fail to be remembered ; he
may divide so that the division itself shall explain his idea and
persuade others to adopt his view ; he may divide so as to incite
to action, if action is desired. A happy division will become
memorable, — such as Matthew Arnold's division of the Eng-
lish into Philistines, Barbarians, Populace, and the Children
of Light ; and so will an unfortunate division like President
Taylor^s, " We are at peace with all the world and on terms
of amity with the rest of mankind."

The rules for logical division will help the writer to achieve
brevity, economy, and simplicity in his exposition, for they are
based upon known laws of mind.

85. Bule 1. — Logical division means that the subject must
be divided on one and only one principle or system. The result
of neglecting this rule is confusion of ideas. The impor-
tance of the rule is clear to all serious people. It makes a
vast difference whether an economist divides his subject

142 EXPOSITION.

into (1) Land, (2) Capital, (3) Labor; or into (1) Labor,
(2) The Products of Labor; or into (1) Land, (2) The Pro-
ducts of Land; or into (1) Capital, (2) The Applications
of Capital. The division of the subject will indicate the
limitations of the writer ; it will reveal to those who know
the subject the writer's bias, the writer's inclination, the
writer's attitude towards the general questions involved in
the subject. When Ruskin entered the field of political
economy he brought derision upon himself by the new classi-
fications that he proposed. He had, however, one strong
point in his favor, — the clearness and completeness of his
classifications.

A single reading of Ruskin's Fors Clavigeraj Letter V., in
which he arraigns the accepted political economy of the time,
discovers the following outline : —

A, The essentials which ought to be secured by a true Political

Economy,
(a) Material things essential to life.

(1) Pure air; (2) Water; (3) Earth. (Advantages of
each.)
(li) Immaterial things essential to life.

(1) Admiration ; (2) Hope ; (3) Love. (Each is defined
and its value stated.)

B. What under modern Political Economy is done with these.
(«) With the Material things essential to life.

(1) The air is vitiated by the smoke of factories and

towns.

(2) The water of rivers is made foul by sewage.

(3) The earth is made a deadly battle-ground instead of a

life-giving harvest field.
(h) With the Immaterial things essential to life.

(1) Instead of Admiration for the past there is contempt

and conceit.

(2) Instead of Hope there is lack of spirit and patriotism.

(8) Instead of Love the constant instinct of man is as-
sumed by Political Economy to be the desire to
defraud his neighbor.

LOGICAL DIVISION. 143

It need hardly be added that the ideas so clearly classified
by Ruskin have won their way into orthodox political econ-
omy ; and the reason for this is, no doubt, in large measure,
the clearness and simplicity of his division on a single prin-
ciple.

If a writer should discourse upon the "Kinds of Sen-
tences," he might divide the subject, on one principle or
system, into simple, complex, and compound sentences ; on
another, into long and short sentences; on still another,
into periodic, loose, and balanced sentences. But if he
should divide sentences into complex, short, and loose, he
would introduce more than one principle of division and
produce confusion.

Although the subject must be divided on only one prin-
ciple for the main divisions, each group of subdivisions
may follow an entirely different principle. In Ruskin's
outline, given just above, the main division (A and B) is
made on one principle (what ought to be, contrasted with
what is) ; the first rank of subdivisions is made on another
principle though the same division is made for both A
and B, the division in both cases being (a) material things,
(p) immaterial things; while the second rank of subdi-
visions, (1), (2), (3), follows a third principle, air, water,
earth, in one group, and admiration, hope, love, in the
other, being component parts of the thing divided, whereas
" what ought to be " and " what is '' are not component
but similar parts of the thing divided. This difference
between componi^t parts and similar parts is illustrated in
two divisions of the subject " Tree " ; by component parts
the division would be into root, trunk, branches, and fruit ;
or into woody fibre and sap ; by similar parts the division
would be into the various kinds or classes of trees.

In the following division of a subject for historical ex-
position, we notice that the main divisions are chronological,
and so are the subdivisions under 1 and 2; but the sub-

144 EXPOSITION.

divisions under 1(6), 3, and 6 are made on an entirely dif-
ferent principle, the principle of cause and effect, while
the subdivisions under 4 are made on a still different prin-
ciple, the principle of specific instances.

Hutory of the Temporal Power of the Pope from
755 to 1303.

1. Origin.

(a) Pippin's gift to Stefano III., 755 a.d.

(6) Agreement between Carolingians and Pontiffs, 800 a.d.

(1) Extent of concessions to the Pontiffs.

(2) Result when political unity ceased and religious unity

remained.

2. Gradual increase of power up to the time of Gregory VII.
(a) Heinrich III.'s gift, to the Papacy, of Benevento, 1053.
(6) Countess Matilda's bequest, " Patrimony of St. Peter," 1073.

3. Rapid accessions of power under Gregory VII., 1073.
(a) Gregory's plans :

(1) To free the Papacy of German supremacy.

(2) To increase the discipline of the Church.

(3) To make the Church independent of any monarch.

(4) To rule people and princes in the interest of their

salvation.
(6) Their realization :

(1) Humiliation of Henry IV.

(2) Quarrel over investitures. Resulting compromise.

4. Supremacy of the Pope's temporal power, 1073 to 1250.
(a) Evidences.

(6) Final fall of German power in Italy,
o. Decline and loss of Pope's temporal power, 1295 to 1303.
(a) Results of the quarrel with Philip the Fair.
(h) Failure under Boniface VIII.

86. Eule 2. — Logical division means that the subdivisions
of the subject {A) should be mutually exclusive ; that is, should
not overlap ; {B) should together satisfactorily cover the field
that ought to be included in the subject ; and {O) that no one

LOGICAL DIVISION. 145

sttbdivision should be equal to the whole subject The reason-
ableness of this rule is apparent ; the difficulty always arises
in its application to particular cases.

(A) For instance, a writer on ethics divides "Our
Duties" into (1) Personal Duties, (2) Religious Duties,
(3) Political Duties ; and, by the exercise of foresight and
care, manages to avoid repeating under one of these divi-
sions what he has said under the others. His observance
of the rule is due not to the perfection of his division, but
to his arbitrary management of his material after writing
begins ; for, fundamentally, the three divisions are not mu-
tually exclusive ; some of our religious duties are personal
duties. Practically the observance of this part of the rule
is possible only when the writer arbitrarily assigns to one of
his divisions certain subdivisions that perhaps might with
perfect propriety be treated as belonging to two or three of
his divisions, indifferently; and the best advice that can be
given to the beginner is this ; having made as good a logical
division of your subject as you can, avoid saying the same
thing in two places.

(B) The second part of the rule requires a good knowl-
edge of the subject divided. The superficial student of our
institutions might divide " The Legislative Government of
the United States '' into (1) The House of Representatives
and (2) The Senate. If he stopped with this twofold divi-
sion, he would show to those who know the subject that he
really was not sufficiently acquainted with the field that
ought to be included in the subject; for an essential and
influential division of the legislative government is (3) The
Veto Power of the President. To omit this topic from the
field of consideration is to invalidate all that is said on the
other two divisions.

146 EXPOSITION.

duties ; this division of the subject is coextensive with the
whole subject. When such a fault in division is discovered,
the remedy is to drop the topic that causes the trouble and,
using it as a point of departure, to make a new division con-
sisting of applications of this topic in various directions.
Thus the division might be (1) Duties to One's Self;
(2) Duties to the State ; (3) Duties to the Church; (4) Duties
to the School, etc., including as many institutions in our
divisions as might be necessary in view of our purpose.
The remedy is not, however, complete. It is sufficient to
serve a practical and temporary purpose ; yet, fundament-
ally, the duties named under (1) are involved with those
named under (2), (3), (4), and the rest. A perfect division
is hardly to be attained ; what is wanted in a given case is
such a division as will simplify the presentation of one's
ideas and avoid needless repetitions.

An analysis of Tyndall's lecture on " The Scientific Use
of the Imagination'' shows how the three parts of this
rule have been observed in one conspicuous instance. Divi-
sions 2 and 3 are {A) mutually exclusive, {B) satisfactorily
cover the field, and (JJ) neither 2 nor 3 is equ^l to the whole
subject.

1. Introduction.

(a) How the author was led to consider this subject.
(6) Statement and explanation of the theme.

2. Instances in which the imagination has been actually used in

science,
(a) In the investigation of sound waves.
(6) In determining the existence of ether,
(c) In determining the source of ether-waves,
(rf) In proving the existence of small particles suspended in

the air.

(1) Leading to an induction as to their general distribu-

tion.

(2) Leading to an explanation of observed facts about

them.

LOGICAL DIVISION. 147

(3) Leading to verification by actual experiments.

(4) Leading to an inference as to the infinitesimal size of

these particles.
3. Instances in which the imagination may possibly be used be-
yond the present outposts of microscopic inquiry.

(a) Precautions that will be needed in this use of the imagina-
tion.

(h) Inquiry into the genesis of the germ.

87. Rule 3. — The divisions should be arranged in an in-
telligible order, each one leading naturally to the one that
comes next. The three most common schemes of arrangement
are (-4) by cause and effect^ (B) by contrast, ((7) by contiguity
in time, place, or thought.

{A) No tendency of the mind is stronger than that which
impels us to seek the causes of an existing fact and to trace
its effects or consequences. The plan resulting from follow-
ing this tendency is simple and lucid : —

(1) Statement of a fact or a group of facts.

(2) The causes of this fact or group of facts.

(3) The effects of the fact or group of facts.

(4) The ultimate significance of the fact or group.

(B) Another scheme of arranging the divisions of a sub-
ject is by contrast. Two divisions that are apparently in
opposition will be brought close together because the truth
of the matter will suffer unless both are kept before the
mind, or because they are correlative facts or complementary
facts. The discrimination of likenesses and differences is
a strong tendency of the mind, — in fact, the keenness of
our discriminations is the exact measure of our intellectual
attainment. It is natural, then, that in presenting our
ideas, we should follow the order that reproduces for our
reader the record of our discriminations, — the order of
contrast.

148 EXPOSITION.

(JC) When we are unable to discover a relationship of
cause and effect, or a relationship of contrast, between two
divisions of our subject, we shall often determine the
order by a feeling that the two divisions are near to each
other in thought. Division 6 will find its place because we
feel that it is closer to c than a is to c. This is arrange-
ment by contiguity. The clearest examples of this arrange-
ment are the order of events as they occur in time and the
order of objects by their nearness to one another in space.

It need hardly be added that the general arrangement of
divisions and subdivisions should utilize the principle of
climax, proceeding from the less to the more important
wherever this is possible without interfering with the opera-
tion of cause and effect, contrast, and contiguity.

In illustration of this rule let us examine the following
outline of Carlyle's " Gospel of Labor,'' taken from his Past
aiid Present The first three main divisions are arranged
in the order of contiguity in thought : 2 is suggested by 1,
" gospel " is suggested by " sacredness," and is felt to be
near it in thought ; 2 suggests 3, " gospel '' suggests " per-
fection." .With 4 appears the arrangement by contrast;
what man does for himself, 3, raises the issue of God's, or
Destiny's, part in the matter, 4. Divisions 3 and 4 are
thus for the moment in opposition, but the apparent con-
tradiction is resolved at once ; God or Destiny works with
the worker ; the two facts are correlative and complemen-
tary; it takes both of them to equal the whole truth.
Then follows arrangement by cause and effect: 5 and 6
are the effects of 3 and 4 together, and 7 is the effect espe-
cially of 4. The concluding division is an inference from all
preceding divisions ; it is apparently a case of contiguity ;
to one who thinks more deeply, however, it is an instance
of cause and effect. Division 8 is a fitting climax ; we feel
that it states the highest fact about work ; and the other
seven divisions have gradually led up to it.

LOGICAL DIVISION. 149

Gospel of Labor.

1. There is nobleness and sacredness in work.

(a) Hope for the man that works.

(b) Despair for the idler.

2. The latest gospel is

(a) Not " know thyself," for that is impossible.

(b) But " know what thou canst work at ; and work at it."

3. A man perfects himself by working.

(a) He brings his soul into harmony with the universe.

(b) He drives out doubt, sorrow, remorse.

4. Destiny's only means of cultivating us is by work.

(a) Work causes irregularities to disappear.

(b) The Potter's wheel illustrates the mission of work.

5. He who has found his work has the highest blessedness.

(a) He has a life-purpose.

(b) He gets force from God as he works.

(d) He ends all doubt by action.

6. The worker learns all virtues by his struggle with brute facts,
(a) Patience, (6) Courage, (c) Perseverance.

(d) Openness to light, (e) Readiness to acknowledge mistakes.
(/) Resolution to do better next time.

7. A great worker, like Sir Christopher Wren, will conquer the

help he needs.

(a) From a blind and unsympathetic public.

(b) From resisting Nature.

(1) Great forces will silently gather to help him make the
impossible possible.

8. Work is religious because it is brave,
(a) Defiance of obstacles brings victory.

(6) Columbus is the type of the brave or religious worker.

Good illustrations of arrangement by contrast are seen in
the subdivisions of 1, 2, and 4 (b) and (c). The subdivisions
of 3, 5, 6, and 7 stand to one another in the relation of
contiguity. The subdivisions of 8 require special notice;

150 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

(b) is a specific instance of a truth stated in 8 and 8(a).
Whenever specific instances are cited to show what is meant
by a statement, and whenever comparisons are made, it is
on the principle of contiguity. The statement of a fact is
usually felt to demand immediately a specific instance of
the fact, a comparison, an analogy, or an illustration. Essen-
tially the instance, comparison, analogy, or illustration, is
repetition in the concrete ; and repetition stands in the
closest proximity in thought to the thing repeated.

The relation of the subdivisions to their respective main
divisions is by cause and effect in 1, 3, 4, 5 ; and by con-
tiguity in 6, 7, 8.

88. Methods of Exposition. — The process of exposition is
invariably analysis, leading to synthesis in the form of
partial or complete definition and classification of the idea
to be explained. But the methods by which the analysis is
carried forward are numerous and varied. The most impor-
tant of these methods have been nam6d and illustrated, as
far as the compass of a single paragraph permits, in the
sections of this book entitled "Means ot Developing the
Paragraph-Theme" (§§ 18-25) and "Types of Paragraph
Structure" (§§33-46). In reference to these methods
(Definition, Specific Instances, Comparison and Contrast,
Causes and Results, or, logically speaking. Deduction and
Induction) two remarks need to be made here : —

(1) On the larger scale of treatment permitted by the
essay, as contrasted with the single paragraph, these meth-
ods may, in a given production, be used in greater number
and variety, though in precisely the same way a^ in the
single paragraph ; only, now, instead of a sentence or two
of repetition, definition, restriction, comparison and con-
trast, and the rest, we may find whole paragraphs necessary
for these several functions. Instead of the word, phrase,
or sentence, of introduction, conclusion, transition, amplifi-

METHODS OF EXPOSITION. 151

cation, enforcement, or illustration, we may need whole
paragraphs, or groups of paragraphs, for these purposes in
the essay. The student who has caught the idea of sentence-
function in the paragraph will pass easily to the analogous
idea of paragraph- function in the essay.

(2) Each of these methods may, in a given case, rise to
the importance of a general method, dominating a whole
mass of related material and giving it specific character as
a definitive essay (like Mill's Essay on Nature), an essay of
classification, arising from the contemplation of numerous
specific instances (like Carlyle's Hero as Divinity, in which
the effort is not to characterize Odin, the individual, but to
characterize the class represented by Odin), an essay of
comparison and contrast (like Whipple's Wit and Humor),
an essay of cause and effect (like Mill's The Subjection of
Women), an essay of inquiry or inductive essay (like Spencer's
The Genesis of Science), or, finally, an essay of application
and enforcement, or deductive essay (like Helps's On the
Art of Living with Others).

The first of the following paragraphs illustrates well the
general method of cause aud effect ; the second, the method
of classification ; the third, the method of comparison and
contrast ; the fourth, the method of definition.

There is a cheerful f livolity in vaudeville which makes it appeal
to more people of widely divergent interests than does any other
form of entertainment. It represents the almost universal long-
ing for laughter, for melody, for color, for action, for wonder-pro-
voking things. It exacts no intellectual activity on the part of
those who gather to enjoy it ; in its essence it is an enemy to re-
sponsibility, to worries, to all the little ills of life. It is joyously,
frankly absurd, from the broad, elemental nonsense of the fun-
makers, to the marvellous acrobatic feats of performers who con-
ceive immensely difficult things for the pleasure of doing them.
Vaudeville brings home to us the fact that we are children of a
larger growth, and this is one of the finest things about it. It

162 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

supports the sour Schopenhauer theory — one of those mislead-
ing part truths — that life consists in trying to step aside to escape
the immediate trouble that menaces us.

Now the lesson which Inness learned from Barbizon and trans-
mitted to the other landscape artists mentioned in this chapter
was that a landscape should be a portrait of nature, and therefore
that the local facts of the scene are of little importance to the
artist merely as facts, but only as vehicles of expression. He will
endeavor to give expression either to his feelings toward nature,
to the sentiment with which she inspires him, or to what we call
the life-spirit in nature itself. He will seek, I mean, to express in
his rocks and hills the compression of forces embodied in their
solid masses, as well as the smiles or wrinkles that time has set
upon their faces ; in his elms, the upspringing and expanding
energy within them that has shaped their growth ; in his locust
trees, the grim, sturdy struggle for existence ; in his skies, the
wonder of space and the buoyancy or density of accumulated
vapors. Either subjectively or objectively, or with a motive bal-
anced between, he will seek to make his portrait render nature's
expression.

One fact about our literature has not received adequate atten-
tion — the fact that it had no childhood. In its beginnings it
was the record of a people who had long passed the age of play
and dreams, and were given over to pressing and exacting work.
We are a young nation, but an old people ; and our books, as dis-
tinguished from English books, are the products of a mature
people in a new world. The world in which books are written
has much to do with their quality, their themes, and their form ;
but the substance of the books of power is the deposit of experi-
ence in the hearts and minds of a race. In American literature
we have a fresh field and an old race ; we have new conditions,
and an experience which antedates them. We were educated in
the Old World, and a man carries his education with him. He
cannot escape it, and would lose incalculably if he could.

The meaning of Mugwump is shaded by time, but the new word
still lingers in the American language. Nowadays it connotes not
mere independence, but a touch also of what Carlyle would have
called gigmania, or the worship of respectability. Originally a

METHODS OF EXPOSITION, 163

mugwump was an independent with Republican antecedents, pri-
marily one who accepted Cleveland because he could not swallow
Blaine. An exiled Democrat, like the thousands who voted for
McKinlcy against Bryan, would not have been called a mugwump
when the term had its earlier meaning. The word independent
has lost all the opprobrium with which it was tinged during the
first Cleveland campaign, and everybody now recognizes the im-
mense weakening of party lines, due to the split in the Democratic
party, the fading of war prejudice, the lessened interest in the
tariff, and the birth of new issues, in which Republicans like the
President have taken the ground from under Democratic feet.
Among fairly educated men to-day, in order to find a fierce and
narrow partisan, you must choose an old man. The younger
generation feels no passion at the party slogan. The word mug^
wump will probably be less common, as it loses its utility. While
it lives it will represent gigmania. " Of course," says one of our
correspondents, commenting on Mr. Jerome's part in the present
New York crusade, " gigmanity hates him, but it does seem strange
that it can be so blind as to fail to see that not all the logic and
respectability in the world can win against Tammany." * With
all our society columns there is much intense Democratic emotion
throughout the country, and the national spirit is unwilling to at-
tach itself to any cause in which respectability and decorum seem
to overshadow warmer-blooded humanity,

89. Exposition by Narration or Description. — Instead of
these methods, exposition may, on occasion, adopt the
method of narration, or the method of description, or a com-
bination of the two. In his essay on Walking Tours, Robert
Louis Stevenson is not describing a pai'ticular experience
of a certain day and date ; he is giving us a sense of the
enjoyments that anybody might experience on any walking
tour, and he finds it convenient to arrange these enjoy-
ments loosely in the time order, as if he were narrating the
events of a day. So we find that the main divisions of his
essay are as follows : —

1. The aim of the true walker is to experience certain
happy moods.

154 WBOLE COMPOSITIONS.

2. Sensations experienced at the beginning of the walk.

3. The best mood in which to take the road in the
morning.

4. Moods of different walkers during the first few miles.
6. A genial criticism of Hazlitt, — the walker should not

leap and run.

6. Gradual change of moods as the day goes on.

7. A word on bivouacs : moods that come when you stop
for a rest.

8. Moods at the end of the day.

The following shows that the method of description has
been adopted. It is Macaulay's exposition of the CofPee-
House and its social significance. While there is, in places,
some hint of a time order, the conspicuous characteristic of
this exposition is the descriptive method; almost every
sentence calls up a picture as description does ; and yet it
is not, the image of a particular coffee-house that we are in-
duced to think about ; it is the coffee-house as an institution.

The coffee-house must not be dismissed with a cursory mention.
It might indeed, at that time, have been not improperly called a
most important political institution. No parliament had sat for
years. The munioipal council of the city had ceased to speak the
sense of the citizens. Public meetings, harangues, resolutions, and
the rest of the modern machinery of agitation had not yet come into
fashion. Nothing resembling the modern newspaper existed. In
such circumstances, the coffee-houses were the chief organs
through which the public opinion of the metropolis vented itself.

The first of these establishments had been set up, in the time of
the Commonwealth, by a Turkey merchant, who had acquired
among the Mahometans a taste for their favorite beverage. The
convenience of being able to make appointments in any part of the
town, and of being able to pass evenings socially at a very small
charge, was so great that the fashion spread fast. Every man of
the upper or middle class went daily to his coffee-house to learn
the news and to discuss it. Every coffee-house had one or more
orators to whose eloquence the crowd listened with admiration,

METHODS OF EXPOSITION. 155

and who soon became, what the journalists of our own time have
been called, a fourth estate of the realm. The court had long
seen with uneasiness the growth of this new power in the state.
An attempt had been made, during Danby's administration, to
close the coffee-houses. But men of all parties missed their usual
places of resort so much that there was a universal outcry. The
government did not venture, in opposition to a feeling so strong
and general, to enforce a regulation of which the legality might
well be questioned. Since that time ten years had elapsed, and,
during those years, the number and influence of the coffee-houses
had been constantly increasing. Foreigners remarked that the
coffee-house was that which especially distinguished London from
all other cities ; that the coffee-house was the Londoner's home,
and that those who wished to And a gentleman commonly asked, •
not whether he lived in Fleet Street or Chancery Lane, but whether
he frequented the Grecian or the Rainbow. Nobody was excluded
from these places who laid down his penny at the bar. Yet every
rank and profession and every shade of religious and political
opinion had its own headquarters. There were houses near St.
James Park where fops congregated, their heads and shoulders
covered with black or flaxen wigs, not less ample than those which
are now worn by the chancellor and by the speaker of the House
of Commons. The wig came from Paris, and so did the rest of
the fine gentleman's ornaments, his embroidered coat, his fringed
gloves, and the tassel which upheld his pantaloons. The conversa-
tion was in that dialect which, long after it had ceased to be
spoken in fashionable circles, continued, in the mouth of Lord
Foppington, to excite the mirth of theatres. The atmosphere was
like that of a perfumer's shop. Tobacco in any other form than
that of richly scented snuff was held in abomination. If any
clown, ignorant of the usages of the house, called for a pipe, the
sneers of the whole assembly and the short answers of the waiters
soon convinced him that he had better go somewhere else. Nor,
indeed, would he have had far to go. For, in general, the coffee-
rooms reeked with tobacco like a guard room ; and strangers
sometimes expressed their surprise that so many people should
leave their own firesides to sit in the midst of eternal fog and
stench. Nowhere was the smoking more constant than at Will's.
That celebrated house, situated between Covent Garden and Bow

156 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

Street, was sacred to polite letters. There the talk was about
poetical justice and the unities of place and time. There was a
faction for Perrault and the moderns, a faction for Boileau and
the ancients. One group debated whether Paradise Lost ought not
to have been in rhyme. To another an envious poetaster demon-
strated that Venice Preserved ought to have been hooted from
the stage. Under no roof was a greater variety of figures to be
seen, — earls in stars and garters, clergymen in cassocks and
bands, pert templars, sheepish lads from the universities, trans-
lators and index-makers in ragged coats of frieze. The great
preas was to get near the chair where John Dryden sat. In
winter, that chair was always in the warmest nook by the fire ;
in summer, it stood in the balcony. To bow to him, and to
hear his opinion of Racine's last tragedy or of Bossu's treatise
on epic poetry, was thought a privilege. A pinch from his snuff-
box was an honor sufficient to turn the head of a young enthusiast.
There were coffee-houses where the first medical men might be
consulted. Dr. John Radcliffe, who, in the year 1685, rose to the
largest practice in London, came daily, at the hour when the Ex-
change was full, from his house in Bow Street, then a fashionable
part of the capital, to Garraway's, and was to be found surrounded
by surgeons and apothecaries at a particular table. There were
Puritan coffee-houses where no oath was heard, and where lank-
haired men discussed election and reprobation through their noses ;
Jew coffee-houses where dark-eyed money-changers from Venice
and Amsterdam greeted each other; and Popish coffee-houses
where, as good Protestants believed, Jesuits planned, over their
cups, another great fire, and cast silver bullets to shoot the king.

90. Exposition by Paraphrase or Abstract. — The para-
phrase, the abstract, and note-taking are important to the
student as methods of exposition, since a large part of his
college work must be recorded, if not for others, at least for
himself. Although they merely reproduce the thought of
the original and are not expected to add to it, the paraphrase,
abstract, and notes are, essentially, methods of exposition ;
for they require the practice of analysis, definition, and
classification, each in its own way.

METHODS OF EXPOSITION. 157

The paraphrase is a reproduction in which the same thought
is expressed in equivalent words. Its object is to make the
thought of any selection clearer and better adapted to a given
class of hearers or readers than it was in its original form.
Practice in paraphrasing selections of prose and poetry,
whose thought is already clear, will give facility of expres-
sion and variety of phraseology; but the chief value of
paraphrasing appears when it is applied to selections whose
thought is more or less obscure and difficult of apprehen-
sion, — thought which needs explanation by restatement in
simpler terms.

The following rules are to be observed in paraphrasing:

1. Do not change the thought of the original. Change
the form only. Follow the thought closely. Reproduce the
meaning of the figures, in plain language.

2. Make all changes in the interest of clearness. The
mere substitution of definitions for difficult words is not
sufficient. The whole thought must be restated.

3. Try to maintain the dignity and spirit of the original.
Do not weaken the thought. If the original is poetry, guard
against inadvertent rhymes in the paraphrase.

4. Study the use of synonyms. Sometimes changes in
the whole sentence are necessitated by the use of one phrase
for another. In some places it may be needful to leave the
original unchanged.

The abstract is a condensed statement of another's thought.
It presents the main ideas and follows closely the structural
plan of the original, but omits unimportant or illustrative
details. The abstract is an outline in which the headings
are stated in complete sentences and presented in a con-
nected discourse. The main problem in abstracting is the
problem of determining what are the main thoughts and of
selecting these for presentation.

The most important rules of the abstract are as fol-
lows : —

158 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

1. Give nothing in the abstract that is not in the original.

2. Discover, by a careful reading of the original, the
author's plan or outline and follow this closely.

3. Give only the main ideas, omitting or condensing all
illustrations, repetitions, and explanations, making the
author's plan of treatment and his conclusions stand out
plainly.

4. Observe the law of proportion. Condense all parts of
the original on the same scale. There is a danger of repro-
ducing too many details in the early part, and of condensing
too much in the latter part.

6. The author's language may be used a little more freely
than in the paraphrase; yet the author's language should be
avoided when his thought can be precisely expressed in
simpler words.

6. Make complete and connected sentences and aim at
clearness, accuracy, force, and plainness of statement.

The following rules will be helpful to the note-taker : —

1. Use note-books with small detachable sheets (or cards
of library catalogue size) in order to secure economy of
time and labor when recopying is necessary, and in order to
make future additions and rearrangements easy.

2. Leave a generous margin to the left, or write on only
the alternate lines, in order that you may have a place for
revision, addition, or rewriting, and a place to note your
own thoughts and comments on the lecture as it proceeds.

3. The notes should follow the paragraph-structure of the
lecture, should reproduce the lecturer's outline as you dis-
cover it. If the lecturer numbers his points, adopt his
numbering in your notes.

4. Have a system of abbreviations which you can under-
stand a year later ; do not abbreviate of tener than necessary
to keep up with the lecturer.

5. Take down in full the short significant sentences, the

KINDS OF EXPOSITION. 159

sentences or ideas which the lecturer repeats. He will
usually indicate by his voice what he thinks essential and
will hurry over what you need not take. «

6. Omit the lecturer's illustrations. Never try to copy a
sentence which you do not catch in full.

7. Copy accurately all names of books and people men-
tioned in the lecture.

8. Be neat, be brief, be systematic, in your notes.

91. Kinds of Exposition. — Certain typical kinds of ex-
position have been developed in literature as the need of
explanation, interpretation, or criticism has been felt in the
various fields of thought. Thus we have

(A) Explanation : as of a process, of the structure of
an object, or of a principle.

(B) Interpretation: as of things in nature, of human
character, or of social situation.

(0) Criticism: as of works of literature, or of the other
fine arts, — architecture, sculpture, painting, music. There
is no essential difference in process or method between
these kinds of exposition: the process is the same for
all — an analysis leading to a partial or complete definition
and classification of the idea to be expounded; and each
may use any or all of the methods of exposition that have
been noted. But explanation, as a synonym for exposition,
implies an impersonal attitude in the writer towards the
subject expounded; it assumes that one man's account of
the matter will, if correct, be the same as another man's ;
and hence the word is applied almost exclusively in the field
of science. On the other hand, the word interpretation, as a
synonym for exposition, implies a sympathetic attitude in
the writer towards the subject expounded ; it affords room
for personal idiosyncrasy ; it puts a premium upon the in-
dividual point of view; and it assumes a deeper insight thah
scientific explanation, with its strict accountability to proof.

160 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

can employ. We speak of the scientific explanatimi of
nature and of the poetic interpretation of nature, properly
and without forethought, hardly aware of the distinction
that we thus make. Again, the word criticism emphasizes
the notion of external standards according to which the
exposition will be made. When the word interpi^etationy
rather than the word criticism, is applied to works of
literature and art, the implication is that external stand-
ards are not to be appealed to, but, instead, we are to have
a record of the personal feelings and personal impressions
of the writer as he stood, sympathetically, under the influ-
ence of the work of literature or art to be expounded.

Thus while these three words — explanation, interpreta-
tion, criticism — are often used interchangeably, they really
suggest three different attitudes towards the subject, and
the writer appears in the role of {A) scientist, or (B) ap-
preciator, or (JJ) judge. In the following selections Ruskin
adopts each of these roles in turn : —

It is actually some two years since I last saw a noble cumulus
cloud under full light. I chauced to be standing under the Vic-
toria Tower at Westminster, when the largest mass of them floated
past, that day, from the north-west ; and I was more impressed than
ever yet by the awfulness of the cloud-form, and its unaccount-
ableness, in the present state of our knowledge. The Victoria
Tower, seen against it, had no magnitude : it was like looking at
Mont Blanc over a lamp-post. The domes of cloud-snow were
heaped as definitely ; their broken flanks were as gray and firm
as rocks, and the whole mountain, of a compass and height in
heaven which only became more and more inconceivable as the
eye strove to ascend it, was passing behind the tower with a steady
march, whose swiftness must in reality have been that of a tem-
pest : yet, along all the ravines of vapor, precipice kept pace with
precipice, and not one thrust another. — Ruskin : The Eagle's Nest.

The Spirit in the plant — that is to say, its power of gathering
dead matter out of the wreck round it, and shaping it into its own
chosen shape — is, of course, strongest at the moment of its flower-

KINDS OF EXPOSITION. 161

iiig, for it then not only gathers, but forms, with the greatest
energy.

And where this Life is in it at full power, its form becomes
invested with aspects that are chiefly delightful to our own human
passions ; namely, first, with the loveliest outlines of shape ; and,
secondly, with the most brilliant phases of the primary colors,
blue, yellow, and red, or white, the unison of all ; and, to make it
all more strange, this time of peculiar and perfect glory is associ-
ated with relations of the plants or blossoms to each other, corre-
spondent to the joy of love in human creatures, and having the
same object in the continuance of the race. Only, with respect to
plants, as animals, we are wrong in speaking as if the object of
this strong life were only the bequeathing of itself. The flower
is the end or proper object of the seed, not the seed of the flower.
The reason for seeds is that flowers may be ; not the reason of
flowers that seeds may be. The flower itself is the creature which
the spirit makes ; only, in connection with its perfectness, is placed
the giving birth to its successor.

The main fact then about a flower is that it is the part of the
plant's form developed at the moment of its intensest life: and
this inner rapture is usually marked externally for us by the flush
of one or more of the primary colors.

— Ruskin : The Queen of the Air,

You must have the right moral state first, or you cannot have
the art. But when the art is once obtained, its reflected action en-
hances and completes the moral state out of which it arose, and,
above all, communicates the exaltation to other minds which are
already morally capable of the like.

For instance, take the art of singing, and the simplest perfect
master of it (up to the limits of his nature) whom you can find —
a skylark. From him you may learn what it is to " sing for joy."
You must get the moral state first, the pure gladness, then give it
finished expression ; and it is perfected in itself, and made com-
municable to other creatures capable of such joy. But it is incom-
municable to those who are not prepared to receive it.

Now, all right human song is, similarly, the finished expression,
by art, of the joy or grief of noble persons, for right causes. And
accurately in proportion to the rightness of the cause^ and purity

162 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

of the emotion, is the possibility of the fine art. A maiden may
sing of her lost love, but a miser cannot sing of his lost money.
And with absolute precision from highest to lowest, the fineness of
the possible art is an index of the moral purity and majesty of the
emotion it expresses. You may test it practically at any instant.
Question with yourself concerning any feeling that has taken
strong possession of your mind, " Could this be sung by a master,
and sung nobly, with a true melody and art ?" Then it is a right
feeling. Could it not be sung at al], or only sung ludicrously?
It is a base one. And that is so in all the arts ; so that with math-
ematical precision, subject to no error or exception, the art of a
nation, so far as it exists, is an exponent of its ethical state.

An exponent, observe, and exalting influence ; but not the root
or cause. You cannot paint or sing yourselves into being good
men ; you must be good men before you can either paint or sing,
and then the color and sound will complete in you all that is
best. ... As soon as we begin our real work, and you have
learned what it is to draw a true line, I shall be able to make
manifest to you — and indisputably so — that the day's work of a
man like Mantegna or Paul Veronese consists of an unfaltering,
uninterrupted succession of movements of the hand more precise
than those of the finest fencer; the pencil leaving one point and
arriving at another, not only with unerring precision at the ex-
tremity of the line, but with an unerring and yet varied course —
sometimes over spaces a foot or more in extent — yet a course
so determined eveiywhere that either of these men could, and
Veronese often does, draw a finished profile, or any other portion
of the contour of a face, with one line, not afterwards changed.
Try, first, to realize to yourselves the muscular precision of that
'action, and the intellectual strain of it; for the movement of a
fencer is perfect in practised monotony ; but the movement of the
hand of a great painter is at every instant governed by direct and
new intention . Then imagine that muscular firmness and subtlety,
and the instantaneously selective and ordinate energy of the brain,
sustained all day long, not only without fatigue, but with a visible
joy in the exertion, like that which an eagle seems to take in the
wave of his wings; and this all life long, and through long life,
not only without failure of power, but with visible increase of it,
until the actually organic changes of old age. And then consider.

KINDS OF EXPOSITION. 163

so far as you know anything of physiology, what sort of an ethical
state of body and mind that means I — ethic through ages past I
what fineness of race there must be to get it, what exquisite balance
and symmetry of the vital powers I And then, finally, determine
for yourselves whether a manhood like that is consistent with any
viciousness of soul, with any mean anxiety, any gnawing lust, any
wretchedness of spite or remorse, any consciousness of rebellion
against law of God or man, or any actual, though unconscious,
violation of even the least law to which obedience is essential for
the glory of life, and the pleasing of its Giver. — Ruskin: Lectures
on Art, sees. 66, 67, 68.

But also, remember, that the art-gift itself is only the result of
the moral character of generations. A bad woman may have a
sweet voice ; but that sweetness of voice comes of the past morality
of her race. That she can sing with it at all, she owes to the de-
termination of laws of music by the morality of the past. Every
act, every impulse, of virtue and vice, affects in any creature, face,
voice, nervous power, and vigor and harmony of invention, at
once. Perseverance in rightness of human conduct, renders, after
a certain number of generations, human art possil^le; every sin
clouds it, be it ever so little a one ; and persistent vicious living
and following of pleasure render, after a certain number of gen-
erations, all art impossible. Men are deceived by the long-sufFering
of the laws of nature ; and mistake, in a nation, the reward of the
virtue of its sires for the issue of its own sins. The time of their
visitation will come, and that inevitably; for, it is always true,
that if the fathers have eaten sour grapes, the children's teeth are
set on edge. And for the individual, as soon as you have learned to
read, you may, as I said, know him to the heart's core, through his
art. Let his art-gift be never so great, and cultivated to the height
by the schools of a great race of men ; and it is still but a tapestry
thrown over his own being and inner soul ; and the bearing of it
will show, infallibly, whether it hangs on a man, or a skeleton.
If you are dim-eyed, you may not see the difference in the fall of
the folds at first, but learn how to look, and the folds themselves
will become transparent, and you shall see through them the
death's shape, or the divine one, making the tissue above it as a
cloud of light, or as a winding-sheet. — Kuskin : Queen of the Air,

164 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS..

Of course the writer may adopt two or even all of these
rSles — scientist, appreciator, judge — in the same essay;
carrying them along together or taking them up in turn.
We may notice this in the reviews that appear in the monthly
magazines and in the essays of such writers as Macaulay,
De Quincey, and Carlyle, as well as in the editorials of
our newspapers. It is noticeable that the didactic spirit
forces the scientist and the judge in the writer more often
to the fore. Whereas, essays that are familiar in tone, like
those of Lamb, Steele, Addison, and Thackeray, bring out the
appreciator in the writer. Literary essays and book reviews
reveal most clearly the appreciator or the critic, as the spirit
of either dominates the writer. The following gathers into
an orderly plan some of the matters of which the book re-
view may treat. The prevailing spirit of the topics is criti-
cal and scientific ; yet most of those under A and at least
the first three under B seem to be conceived in the spirit of
the interpreter.

A, Historical: —

(1) Sources of the work.

« (2) Cause, Occasion, Purpose — Dim or apparent ?

(3) Circumstances under which the work was produced.

(4) Relation of the work to its author.

(5) Relation to the time in which it was written.

(6) Effect of the work upon the public.

B. Descriptive : —

(1) Brief sketch of the subject-matter — Plot.

(2) Characters — Their qualities as persons, relative impor-

tance, relation to one another; contrasting
characters; what each is intended to bring
out.

(3) Art in presenting scenes and characters.

(4) Literary Qualities.

(a) External Form : —

(1) Words — Peculiar forms, meanings, use, eu-
phony, simplicity.

A EG UMENTA TION. 166

(2) Phrases — Idiomatic or foreign ?

(3) Sentences — Simple or involved ? Smooth or

rough ? Compact or loose ? Order of sentence
elements.

(4) Figures — Numerous? Kinds? Useful or or-

namental?

(5) Paragraphs — Attention paid to structure and

connection ?

(6) Qualities of Style — Simplicity, clearness,

strength, pathos, melody, harmony, taste.
(6) Internal Structure — Are the laws of unity, selection,
proportion, sequence, variety, observed?
(5) Qualities of mind displayed — Emotional, intellectual,
moral, or spiritual ?
C. Critical: —

(1) Is the evident object of the work attained?

(2) Comparison of this with other works of the same author.

(3) Rank among works of the same kind written by others.

(4) Its value and its lesson.

(5) Judge the work by the best of its kind, by the laws of its

process and by literary laws in general.

Argumentation.

92. Definition. — Argumentation has been defined as a
connected series of statements or reasons intended to establish a
proposition. " An argument," says Bain, *^ is a fact, principle,
or a set of facts or of principles adduced as evidence of some
other fact or principle." To illustrate : the fact that a large
proportion of the prisoners in our penitentiaries are ignorant
men is adduced as evidence of the principle that ignorance
breeds crime. It is evident that to be of value as an argu-
ment the statement as to the large proportion of ignorant
men among the prisoners in the penitentiaries must, first,
either be admitted to be true or must be shown to be true
by statistics; secondly, the same statement must also be
admitted or shown by statistics to have been generally true

166 WHOLE COMPOSITIONS.

for a long period and likely to be true in the future. Both
of these conditions are essential to a valid argument.

Even when one doesn't believe in the proposition that he
is arguing, he must imagine that he does, and must try to
trace the route thereto. But, since we can seldom remember
precisely how we have come to our conclusions, the rules of
logic, which summarize the typical ways by which people
arrive at safe conclusions, are of the greatest help.

93. The Proposition. — If argumentation is to be of value
it must be based upon a proposition, a statement containing
a subject and a predicate. You cannot argue " Suffrage for
women '' ; that is not a proposition. The idea must be put
into the form of statement illustrated by an}'- one of the
following: "Women should be granted the suffrage";
"This state would profit by adopting women's suffrage";
" Women should be granted the right to vote at school elec-
tions." Moreover, the proposition should be stated as clearly
and definitely as possible. It should narrow the field of
discussion to the precise limits desired. The proposition,
" United States senators should be elected by popular vote,"
is less definite than " United States senators should be
elected by popular vote in the several states." If the
proposition be " Judges should be elected by the people," it
means all judges ; whereas you may really wish to argue
only with reference to federal judges, — " Federal judges
should be elected by the people." When the proposition
cannot readily be phrased so as to carry a self-evident
meaning, the meaning intended must be defined and ex-
plained in the introduction to the argument. This will be
necessary when the proposition contains a term not accu-
rately understood, as " The police sweat-box should be pro-
hibited by law," "Vocational education should be intro-
duced into the secondary schools of the United States." It
may be necessary when you least suspect it, as in the propo-

ANALYSIS. 167

sition "The United States navy should be increased."
Does the United States navy mean merely "fighting ships"?
or does it include colliers, repair ships, and everything else
that is necessary to make fighting ships effective? The
statement, definition, limitation, and explanation of the propo-
sition is exceedingly, important if argumentation is to be of
value. Dictionary definitions, quotations from books and
magazine articles written by authorities, "what is popu-
larly understood " by a term, " common sense," — all these
may be used in explaining the meaning of a proposition.

94. Analysis. — Having determined what the proposition
means and implies, — nay even while this is being accom-
plished, — there must be reading and reflectfon ; there must
be careful analysis including the search for proofs that are
essential, the exclusion of matters that are irrelevant, the
testing and arrangement of proofs by logic, and the considera-
tion of objections that are known to exist against the adop-
tion of the proposition, and that must be met in any fair
discussion of the subject.

(A) Beading and Reflection. — As to reading, the fol-
lowing directions will be helpful : —

1. Do not confine your investigations to one book or
magazine article; read as widely as possible. Especially
do not fail to read on both sides of the question.

2. Learn to read economically. To this end, learn to use
the card catalogues in libraries, such publications as Poole's
Index to Periodical Literature, and make it a practice to
consult the indexes of the books that you use before plung-
ing into them.

3. As reading and thinking goes on, it should result in
raising numerous questions. As fast as these occur, spe-
cialize your reading; that is, cease to read for general
knowledge of the subject, and begin to read for answers to
the several specific questions that have come up.

168 ARGUMENTATION.

4. Make notes as you read. You will find it most eco-
nomical to use for this purpose separate uniform cards (of
library card catalogue size), putting on each card only
a single note with exact reference to author, title, volume,
and page. Loose cards enable you later easily to bring to-
gether the notes that belong together by merely shifting the
cards.

(B) Search for Proofs. — As to the search for proofs
that are essential, the following rules are applicable : —

1. The determination of the real points at issue is pre-
requisite to deciding what proofs are essential and what
material is irrelevant. Just what the idea is, about which
an essential difference arises, must be known in order that
we may decide what is needful to support our view. It
will help us to discover the real points at issue if we notice,
while the reading proceeds, (a) what matters are assumed
to be true by all authorities, (b) what matters are excluded
from consideration by the wording of our proposition, or by
the definitions involved in its terms. Thus if the proposi-
tion be " The Philippines should be granted independence
of the United States,'' and if the reading discloses that all
authorities assume that the motives of the McKinley admin-
istration in acquiring the Philippines were not greed of
power, or commercial advantages, or desire for exploitation,
but the desire to promote the welfare of the Philippines
and to prepare them for self-government, all arguments
based on the assumption of bad motives would be properly
excluded as irrelevant, and the points at issue would be
represented by the following questions: Has the colonial
relationship actually promoted the welfare of the Philip-
pines ? Has the colonial relationship sufficiently prepared
them for self-government ? What would be the effect upon
them if self-government were granted ?

2. A fact, a circumstance, a specific instance, a principle,
^ maxim^ a theory, an appeal to experience or to authority.

ANALYSIS. 169

will be valuable as an argument if an inference can be
drawn from it which puts it in the relation of cause and
effect to one of the real points at issue. Thus the fact of
several disorders of late years in the Philippines would be
pertinent as an argument against the proposition last-named,
only if the disorders could be inferred to have been unneces-
sary, unprovoked, and significant of incapacity for self-control.
3. A proof will be essential only if it be the best of which
the case is susceptible. It will not do to be satisfied with
quotations of opinion, for instance, about a matter on which
official statistics are obtainable. Thus if the proposition be,
" The ticket-of-leave system should be adopted in our peni-
tentiaries," one of the points at issue that will be sure to
arise will be the question, " Will the system be safe for the
public ? " and that in turn will raise the question, " Are
many ticket-of-leave men recommitted to the penitentiary
for further crime ? " Now, it is possible to obtain exact
information on this point, and anything short of this will
not avail much. Common rumor, individual opinion, is
well-nigh worthless in such a case.

ip) Testing Proofs; meeting Objections. — As to the
testing and arrangement of proofs and the disposing of ob-
jections, the following suggestions will be found helpful : —

1. Every assertion is likely to be attacked either on the
ground that it is based on false " facts," or on the ground
that it is based on a false inference from facts that are
perhaps true. This prescribes a twofold test of the state-
ments that we regard as true arguments : (a) We should
first question the " facts " directly, on which we base the state-
ment ; are they true as we supposed them to be ? (6) Find-
ing them true, we should next question the inference that
we have drawn from them ; we should ask, is this the only
possible inference that can be drawn ? is it a reasonable in-
ference ? an inference that others would easily draw, too ?

170 ABGUMMNTATION.

And if we know that other inferences are possible from the
same set of facts, we must examine them to see whether
they are more plausible, or probable, than the inference that
we have drawn, and we must consider what to say in order
to render them less plausible and less probable.

2. The disposal of objections that are sure to arise is thus
interwoven with the work of testing our own arguments.
The same twofold test that we apply to our own statements
should be applied to each objection that we expect, or fear,
from those who think differently from us. In addition to
this test we should note that often there are objections that
we should candidly admit to be valid. It may be, however,
that they are equally valid against any propositions that
have been made on the subject and, if adopted, would result
in getting nothing done. If this turns out to be so, we
should see whether these objections may not be less likely
to be operative under our proposition than under others;
and if that seems probable, we should explain them away
on that ground. Again, in all fairness, an objection should
never be understated ; for understatement indicates inabil-
ity to answer it completely. A weak objection may be neg-
lected altogether.

S. Since the work of testing our own arguments is inter-
woven with the work of disposing of objections, it follows
that our arguments and the oVijections thereto must be con-
sidered together when we are arranging our material in
final form. The place to bring in and dispose of an objec-
tion is the place at which we are to discuss the point
against which the objection is likely to be made. They
are two sides of the same thing and should be treated to-
gether. In every argument there are two or three points
that are vital, — the points at issue about which the conflict
centres. These two or three points at issue vary in im-
portance and the arguments that support them likewise
vary in importance. It is a general rule of arrangement

THE BRIEF. 171

to place these points at issue in the order of climax, and to
place the arguments that support them respectively like-
wise in the order of climax, proceeding from the least
to the most important.

All of this work of analysis, — including reading, the
search for essential proofs, the testing and arrangement of
such proofs when ascertained, and the disposal of objections,
— leads finally to the making of a brief of the argument.

95. The Brief. — After the work of analysis is done and
arguments have been collected, tested, and arranged, with
their respective objections, it is highly desiiable, before
writing begins, that they should be displayed to the eye in
a manner that will show their logical relationship to each
other and to the main proposition. This is necessary for
three reasons : (1) In order that all that is to be said may
be seen as a whole, (2) In order that any gaps in the argu-
ment may be detected and filled, (3) In order that a logical
guide or outline may be followed in writing or speaking.
There are two respects in which a brief differs from an
ordinary outline. In the first place, it is made up of
complete sentences. In the second place, each sentence of
the brief proper must read as a reason for the sentence of next
higher rank. Kef erring to the specimen brief following: —

1. Note that the proposition is rewritten in full at the be-
ginning of the brief proper, followed by the word Because.

2. Note that the chief reasons for the proposition are
marked (A), (B), (C), and that each of these is followed
by the word For, and supported by a series of reasons
marked 1, 2, 3, etc., these again being supported by reasons
marked (a), (6), (c), etc.

3. Note that the brief does not show the reasons for the
arguments of the lowest rank ; yet it is upon these reasons,
unexpressed in the brief, that all of the arguments of
higher rank must stand or fall. The facts or authorities

172 ARGUMENTATION.

must be ready when the argument is written, in order to sup-
port the arguments of lowest rank. 1 (a) and 1 (6), under
{A), for example, will require that the rules indicated be
named; and 2 (&) will require explanation. The same is
true of the other unsupported reasons.

4. Note that objections are answered wherever they
naturally arise, and that there is a set form of economical
statement for them.

5. Note that the words hence and therefore are not used.
They should never be used in a brief ; since they reverse
the proper order of main and subordinate statement.

6. Note that each statement is marked with one and only
one letter or number, and that difference in rank is indi-
cated not only by the kind of number or letter but by dif-
ference in indention.

Proposition: Intercollegiate football promotes
the best interests of the colleges.
I. Introduction,

{A ) The best interests of the colleges include not merely intel-
lectual interests, but also the physical interests of the indi-
vidual students, and their social interests, — esprit de corps,
discipline, morals.

(B) Hostility to intercollegiate football has arisen usually from
exceptional or curable evils, from prejudice without intimate
knowledge of the facts.

(C) Intercollegiate football means the six or eight games that
are played in the Fall between college teams, operating
under strict rules and conference agreements.

II. Brief Proper.
Intercollegiate football promotes the best interests of the

colleges. Because
(A ) Football (intercollegiate and other) is a beneficial form of
athletics. For
1. It promotes the health of the players. For

(a) The players must observe strict rules against
excesses of all kinds.

THE BRIEF. 173

(b) They must be regular in their out-of-door

training.

expert physical director,
(rf) Objection answered. It is not true that the
supervision of the director ceases at the close
of the season. For
(1) Grenerally he is on duty the year round.
(e) Objection answered. If sufficient vigilance over
the players is not now exercised after the
season closes, it can easily be supplied with-
out abolishing football.
2. It promotes the health of the onlookers. For

(a) It affords fresh air and recreation to thousands

who would otherwise miss this.
(6) It gives them a healthy social interest,
(c) Objection answered. There is no other outdoor
college interest that is so universal in its
appeal.
(B) Intercollegiate games are essential to maintaining foot-
ball. For

1. Without them high standards would be lost. For
(a) There would be less attention to strict health

rules.

(6) There would be less call for discipline in self-
control, courage, obedience.

(rf) Objection answered. Under present intercol-
legiate rules the scholarship of athletes is
more closely watched than that of any other
class of students.

2. Without them there would be a less general partici-

pation in the game than there is now. For

(a) It is the college team that inspires the creation

of interclass and interfraternity teams;
not vice versa,

(b) Scrub teams, substitute teams, and the like would

disappear for lack of incentive to continue...

174 ARGUMENTATION.

1. They promote a true spirit of sportsmanship. For
(a) Objection answered. The treatment of visiting

teams is markedly better than ever before.

2. They substitute a wider interest for narrow, un-

reasoning loyalty to one's own college. For
(a) They compel the recognition of excellence in
competitors.

3. They promote a closer acquaintance with other in-

stitutions in all respects.
III. Conclusion,

{A) Summary of the leading arguments is made.

(B) A plea is made for regulation rather than prohibition.

With the completion of the brief nothing remains but the
writing of the argument in full, with such amplification of
the several arguments, — especially those left unsupported
in the brief, — as the mass of facts collected and the various
methods of exposition (see §§ 88-90) may permit or sug-
gest. What is given in the pages that follow is to be
studied, therefore, not as prerequisite to any attempt at
argumentation, but for its value in systematizing our knowl-
edge of the subject and in making our practice more accurate
and precise.

96. Beasoning. — When we were studying the logical type
of paragraph (see §§ 35-37), we discovered the essential
difference between induction and deduction as modes of
reasoning. We noticed that, in inductive reasoning, an in-
ference is drawn from a number of particulars, whereas, in
deductive reasoning, a principle is applied in one or more
particulars. Argumentation inquires into the validity of
each of these modes of reasoning and into the practical use
that may be made of each.

97. Inductive Eeasoning. — It is evident that inductive
reasoning, from the very fact that it dares to make an infer-

INDUCTIVE BEASONING. 176

ence from a number of particular facts or instances, assumes,
first, that these particulars constitute a class ; that is, that
they are alike in at least one respect ; and, secondly, that, if
all of the members of the class have not been, or cannot be,
examined, the same inference is as true of the unexamined
as of the examined members of the class. The astronomer
feels sure that, if he should discover a new planet to-morrow
morning, it would be found to be revolving from west to
east, like the other planets. The practical question in argu-
mentation, then, is, how many particular facts or instances
must be examined before a safe inference may be drawn ?
We feel sure that the astrouoraer is safe; but how about
the professor who infers from six failures to recite, in a
class of forty members, that nobody in the class is doing
good work ? or that scholarship nowadays is inferior as
compared with twenty years ago ? How about the reformer
who infers from the discovery of lawlessness in the manage-
ment of public business in a dozen cities that all cities are
misgoverned? It is clear from these illustrations that
safety lies in examining as many members of the class as pos-
sible ; that the confidence with which inferences may be drawn
will depend in part on the size of the class, but more on the
characteristic on which the classification is made. Thus an in-
ference in regard to the direction in which a new planet will
revolve on its axis is felt to be safer than an inference about
the character of city governments, because the class is smaller
and less complex. Thus too an inference iu regard to the
morals of sons of criminals will be felt to be safer than an
inference in regard to the sons of farmers, of preachers, or
of teachers; not because of the different size of the two
classes, but because of a certain sense of solidarity in the
class that we cannot escape in thinking of " sons of crimi-
nals " from the view-point of morality. This sense of soli-
darity, or homogeneity, in a class means that the principle
or characteristic on which the class is made commends

176 ARGUMENTATION.

itself to our judgment as being essential and not superficial
or whimsical. Doubtless, in the case cited, the command-
ing idea that gives this sense of homogeneity is that of
heredity.

98. Flaws in Inductiye Beasoning. — If now it be-
comes necessary to invalidate an inductive conclusion made
by another, our course is clear. We may examine members
of the class which have evidently been left unexamined by
the one who made the inference, and possibly we may find
instances sufficient in number to warrant an inference of an-
other kind; we may, for example, find more instances of
good government in cities than our opponent has cited in
support of his inference of universal bad government. In
the second place, if this procedure is unproductive of the
result we are seeking, we may attack the principle, or charac-
teristic, on which the class has been organized. We may
declare that it is dangerous to make inferences about the
morals of any class based on the principle of birth or occu-
pation ; we may cite the cases of British penal colonies —
Tasmania and New Zealand — to prove that descendants
of criminals, in a good environment, lose the class character-
istic alleged.

99. Deduotive Beasoning. — Deduction begins with an
accepted generalization about a class and draws a conclu-
sion about a member that has not been examined. Thus,
from previous experience, a buyer may have reached the
generalization that " All shirts marked xyz are well made."
He finds this mark on a shirt and concludes that this
particular shirt is well made. The syllogism, consisting
of major premise, minor premise, and conclusion, offers a
perfect form of statement for such reasoning.

Major premise. All shirts marked xyz are well made.
Minor premise. This shirt is marked oin/z.
Conclusion. This shirt is well made.

DEDUCTIVE REASONING. 177

All deductive reasoning may be reduced to this practical
form without much difficulty. Thus, if the previous generali-
zation is not about " All shirts marked xyz,^^ but is " Most
shirts marked xyz,^^ or '' Some shirts marked xyZy^^ or " Not
all shirts marked xyZj^ the typical form of statement may
nevertheless be preserved, and our precise meaning carried,
by adding a qualifying clause that reduces the class to the
smaller size and character intended. In fact this process
helps us to find out exactly what we do mean. Thus, for
"most," " some " or "not all" we may find that what we
mean is —

Major premise. All shirts marked xyz, that cost more than
one dollar, and that salesman A recommends, are well
made.

100. Flaws in Deductiye Beasoning. — The reduction
of the major premise to the typical form will not only give
precision to our own reasoning, it will disclose errors in the
reasoning of others. One of the chief errors arises from
failure sufficiently to define the class first mentioned in the
major premise. People make statements with reckless cer-
tainty about large, and loose, and vague classes, like social-
ists, labor unions. Christians, criminals, society people,
business men, students, children. The severe requirement
of making a major premise beginning with the word " All,"
that shall express the idea exactly intended, will usually
compel qualification after qualification, each in turn more
closely defining the class and reducing its size. This process
raises the question of fact. Does the major premise, repre-
senting what another has said, express an acceptable gen-
eralization ? Is it true ?

Again, granting that the major premise is true and accept-
able, does the conclusion necessarily follow ? Macaulay in
his Essay on Hallam's Constitutional History has pointed
out an admirable example of illogical conclusion^ based on

178 ARGUMENTATION.

premises that are, perhaps, correct. He is trying to prove
that Elizabeth was a persecutor.

To punish a man because he has committed a crime, or because
he is believed, though unjustly, to have committed a crime, is not
persecution. To punish a man, because we infer from the nature
of some doctrine which he holds, or from the conduct of other
persons who hold the same doctrines with him, that he will commit
a crime, is persecution, and is, in every case, foolish and wicked.

When Elizabeth put Ballard and Babington to death, she was
not persecuting. Nor should we have accused her government of
persecution for passing any law, however severe, against overt
acts of sedition. But to argue that because a man is a Catholic,
he must think it right to murder a heretical sovereign, and that
because he thinks it right he will attempt to do it, and then, to
found on this conclusion a law for punishing him as if he had
done it, is plain persecution.

If, indeed, all men reasoned in the same manner on the same
data, and always did what they thought it their duty to do, this
mode of dispensing punishment might be extremely judicious.
But as people who agree about premises often disagree about con-
clusions, and as no man in the world acts up to his own standard
of right, there are two enormous gaps in the logic by which alone
penalties for opinions can be defended. Man, in short, is so incon-
sistent a creature that it is impossible to reason from his belief to
his conduct, or from one part of his belief to another.

We do not believe that every Englishman who was reconciled
to the Catholic Church would, as a necessary consequence, have
thought himself justified in deposing or assassinating Elizabeth.
It is not sufficient to say that the convert must have acknowledged
the authority of the Pope, and that the Pope had issued a bull
against the Queen. We know through what strange loopholes the
human mind contrives to escape, when it wishes to avoid a dis-
agreeable inference from an admitted proposition. We know how
long the Jansenists contrived to believe the Pope infallible in
matters of doctrine, and at the same time to believe doctrines which
he pronounced to be heretical. Let it pass, however, that every
Catholic in the kingdom thought that Elizabeth might be lawfully
murdered. Still the old maxim, that what is the business of every-

KINDS OF ARGUMENT. ' 179

body is the business of nobody, is particularly likely to hold good in
a case in which a cruel death is the almost inevitable consequence
of making any attempt.

Of the ten thousand clergymen of the Church of England, there
is scarcely one who would not say that a man who should leave
his country and friends to preach the Gospel among savages, and
who should, after laboring indefatigably without any hope of re-
ward, terminate his life by martyrdom, would deserve the warmest
admiration. Yet we doubt whether ten of the ten thousand ever
thought of going on such an expedition. Why should we suppose
that conscientious motives, feeble as they are constantly found to
be in a good cause, should be omnipotent for evil?

101. Kinds of Argument. — Arguments applied immedi-
ately to the establishment of the proposition are called
direct; those applied to the overthrow of objections are
called indirect, or, better, refutation. In either case they
may be classified and the different kinds may be pointed
out and named.

102. A priori Arguments. — In a priori proofs (some-
times called proofs from antecedent probability) the reason-
ing (purely deductive) is from cause to effect, or from a general
law to the results of that law.

The prevalence of intemperance in a community is an
a priori proof of the existence of wretchedness in that com-
munity, because intemperance is a cause of wretchedness.

Bountiful crops throughout the country furnish an a
priori proof that business will be good, since we know that
these are a potent cause of general prosperity. Arguments
in regard to future events are always a priori.

The syllogism for a priori reasoning takes the usual
form : —

All periods of tariff-tinkering are followed by business
disturbances.

This period is a period of tariff-tinkering.

This period will be followed by business disturbances.

180 ARGUMENTATION.

Stated in the severe syllogistic form the a priori proof
reveals its weakness. Its validity depends upon the cer-
tainty that the cause assigned is adequate and operative.
If it can be shown that the cause assigned is inadequate, or
though adequate, is hindered by other forces from producing
its natural result, the argument is impaired to that extent.
In the case just syllogized the major premise may be ques-
tioned as a statement of fact, and history may be appealed
to in order to decide the truth of the matter. It may be
shown in regard to past instances that the tariff-tinkering
was not the real and efficient cause of the business disturb-
• ances ; that the real cau^e was, in some cases, over-produc-
tion, and in other cases over-speculation in land; in other
words, that here a mere antecedent in time has been mis-
taken for a cause. Or admitting the truth of the major
premise it may be shown that the usual cause will be hin-
dered in its operation this time, by vast new governmental
enterprises that will fully occupy the energies of the people ;
or that the speed with which capital under modern arrange-
ments can be transferred from unproductive to productive
channels will either obviate or minimize the effect.

103. Jl posteriori Arguments. — In a posteriori reasoning
(also purely deductive) we have the reverse of a priori
reasoning. It proceeds from an effect to«a precedent condition
80 connected with the effect that the existence of the effect im-
plies the existence of the condition. It is reasoning from effect
to cause. >

From the appearance of a certain crop the expert reasons
back to the cause — there has been no rotation of crops in
this field for many years.

From the peculiar actions of a man near a dark alley at
midnight the policeman concludes that the man has done
something wrong.

The physician noticing certain symptoms in a patient

KINDS OF ARGUMENT, 181

inquires as to the number of cigars he smokes every
day.

A posteriori reasoning takes the usual syllogistic form, the
major premise being essentially, "all cases showing these
particular facts point back to certain things as causes." The
a posteriori argument may be invalidated in the same way as
the a pnori. One may scrutinize the case and perhaps find
the " facts " different from those alleged ; one may find new
"facts" in the case that are significant; or one may deny a
causal relation between the "facts" and the causes alleged.

Both a priori and a posteriori arguments are nothing more
than a reading of signs or indications, the one argument
reading forward, the other reading backward. The inter-
pretation of circumstantial evidence may be a priori or
a posteriori reasoning. When Sherlock Holmes decides from
certain signs that the crime has been committed by a certain
man whom he can name, he is reasoning a posteriori; but
when he goes on to predict that this man will be found in
Salt Lake City within six weeks he is reasoning a priori.
The reading, or interpretation, of signs, calls for the exercise
of great care. The most suspicious circumstances are often
wholly inconclusive. If, for instance, blood stains upon the
clothing of a man accused of murder are explained in some
other way than by the supposition of guilt, the probability
of the explanation offered becomes of prime importance.
The same signs are frequently employed for opposite ends.
Usually a person comes to the reading of signs with a cer-
tain " theory of the case " in mind, which he hopes the
signs can be used to verify. One writer regards strikes
as signs that the influence of trades unions is pernicious;
another regards the same phenomena as signs that the
trades unions have given the working classes power to
assert and, in some cases, to maintain their rights. The
more numerous the signs pointing to one conclusion, the
greater their value as arguments.

182 ARGUMENTATION.

104. Arguments from Authority. — Authority, or what
books and competent persons have said, irrespective of par-
ticular cases, as to the truth or falsity of a piroposition, and
testimony, or the evidence of witnesses, may be a priori or
a posteriori, according to the nature of the statements made
by the authority or by the witness testifying. When au-
thorities are quoted to support a statement, reference should
be made to the edition, volume, and page ; and in general
only those authorities should be referred to who are ac-
knowledged to be competent to speak on the subject, who
are known to be disinterested, and whose works, if quoted,
are accessible. Concurrence of authorities or of witnesses
as to the truth of any matter gives added force, but authority,
by itself, is the weakest form of argument, and expert testimony
has become well-nigh useless, on account of the continual
conflict between experts equally eminent. One authority
refutes another.

105. Arguments from Example. — Examples of the truth
of a proposition are a form of deduction which gains its
power on the assumption that the essential conditions under
which men act and things take place remain the same in
different times and different countries. Each example
should exemplify the point to be proved by it in an unmis-
takable way, and all examples cited should exemplify this
point in the same way. How many examples are needed to
substantiate a given statement must be decided in each
case. It is evidently not sufficient proof of the proposition
that blindness increases poetic power to cite the case of
Milton. The refutation of the argument from example is more
frequently successful than that of any other kind of argument.
It is never hard to cast doubt upon the applicability of the
example cited to the precise point at issue, to show that
the example really proves something else. Froude, himself
a great historian, doubted if historical examples from one

METHODS OF REFUTATION. 188

age were ever of probative force in another age, on account of
changes in essential conditions. One form of the argument
from example is the " much more " argument (a fortiori)
which asserts that if a thing is true in an admitted case,
much more should it (or will it) be true in a case where the
essential condition is clearer. "If the teacher should be
punctual in attendance, much more should the student who
has more to lose by absence." Here the point that classi-
fies teacher and student together is " profit by attendance "
or " loss by absence." The principle of classification is often
still harder to find in the analogy which is a vague form of
the argument from example, having conspicuous value as
illustrating one's meaning, but little value as proof. The
prohibition orator who cried, "We do not iram out a cancer;
we cut it out," illustrated his meaning perfectly, but noth-
ing was proved by the statement. Finally, appeals to ex-
perience, — to common knowledge, to common sense, to
what we know of " human nature," are disguised forms of
the argument from example, in which specification of par-
ticular instances is treated as unnecessary. The refutation
consists in the demand for particular instances.

106. Methods of Befntation. — In addition to the methods
of refutation noted above the following may be named as
occasionally useful : —

1. The Dilemma refutes a proposition by reducing it to two
possible cases and disproving each. Thus the proposition that
"Convict labor deprives free laborers of work" is answered:

These convicts, before they were imprisoned, were either wqrkers
or idlers. If idlers, they had to be supported at the expense of free
labor, and to make them work while in prison relieves free labor
of the burden of their continued support. If they were workers
before their imprisonment, they competed with other free laborers,
and to mak<^ them work while in prison does not, therefore, alter
former conditions in this respect; wheroas enforcing idleness upon

184 ARGUMENTATION.

them would throw the additional burden of their support upon
free labor.

In rebuttal, however, it would be urged that the dilemma misses
the real point at issue. What is complained of is, not that con-
victs are compelled to work, but that their work is concentrated
in a very few trades, — coopering, cigar-making, shoe-making, bolt-
making, — and thus their output is so great as to depress wages in
these trades and deprive free laborers of work. Thus the dilemma
fails, for a third alternative is possible : disperse the convict labor
among so many trades that in no one of them shall the product be
sufficient to exercise a harmful influence.

2. Presumption vs. Presumption. — One presumption
may be overthrown by another. The presumption is in
favor of established institutions and against a change, but it
is also in favor of what is right, charitable, and likely to pro-
mote welfare. As these presumptions are often in conflict,
one may be used to overthrow the other. The same thing
will be called by speakers, under the influence of opposing
presumptions, — " the existing order," and " antiquated
prejudice '' ; " religion " and " superstition " ; " the clergy "
and "the priests " ; "zeal " and " fanaticism " ; " influence"
and " bribery " ; " relationship " and " nepotism " ; " re-
wards" and "graft"; "good living" and "gluttony";
" necessary alteration " and " dangerous innovation " ;
" liberty " and " anarchy " ; " taxation " and " robbery " ;
" bravery '• and " foolhardiness " ; " embezzlement " and
" stealing " ; " purity " and " prudishness." Each of these
terms is fundamentally a begging of the question at issue,
for it subtly inserts into the content of the word the very
thing that requires proof. However, it is well understood
by every one that the words we employ express instinctively
and unintentionally our prejudices and habitual presump-
tions. Allowance is always made for such usages, and
natural tendency may be trusted to offset excess of state*
paent by exce33 of statement, epithet by epithet.

METHODS OF REFUTATION. 186

3. Reductio ad dbsurdunt is a common method of
making our opponent's position seem absurd. It applies his
argument to extreme cases, beyond his intention, holds him
responsible for the logic, and makes him prove something ridicu-
lous. Thus Macaulay, in his Copyright Speech of 1841,
arguing that any copyright at all means a monopoly, reduces
to absurdity the objection that monopoly makes articles
good and cheap, by asking —

" Why should we not restore the East India trade to the East
India Company? Why should we not revive all those old mo-
nopolies which, in Elizabeth's reign, galled our fathers so severely
that, maddened by intolerable wrong, they opposed to their sov-
ereign a resistance before which her h aught}' spirit quailed for the
first and for the last time ? Was it the cheapness and excellence
of commodities that then so violently stirred the indignation of
the English people? I believe, Sir, that I may safely take it for
granted that the effect of monopoly generally is to make articles
scarce, to make them dear, and to make them bad."

PART III.

ASSIGNMENTS.

A. THE PARAGRAPH.

1. — (Sections 1-3) — Make an analysis of the structure
of one of the whole compositions in Appendix A.

2. — (Section 2) — Analyze the following paragraphs ac-
cording to their thought-divisions ; —

(a) Sight is without doubt the most valuable of the senses
except the general sense of touch. The man who loses the sense
of smell or the sense of taste may regret the loss keenly, but it de-
prives him of only one form of pleasure and contracts to only a
limited extent his usefulness or ability. £ven the deaf man con-
tinues to get along very well by other means of communication
with his fellow-men, and though he has lost one of the means of
happiness, can be contented and almost as efficient as ever. But
the blind man is not merely cut off from enjoyment of the keenest
character, but he is almost as helpless as if he had lost all the other
special senses together. Yet partial or complete blindness is far
from rare. This results more frequently from the complexity of
the organ of sight and the delicacy of its mechanism than from
any inherent defects. A misunderstood saying of the great Ger-
man physicist, Helmholtz, to the effect that he would return to the
maker an optical instrument so filled with defects as is the human
eye, is often quoted. No one better appreciated than did Helm-
holtz the difficult function which the eye is called upon to perform.
He would not think of returning an instrument, however defective
it might be, which w^ould automatically accomplish one-tenth the
amount of work which the eye does. He designed merely to criti-
cise the mechanical means adopted to accomplish certain ends, and

186

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAORAPH. 187

his criticism was a just one. Every mechanic is similarly justified
in criticising the mechanism of the muscles of the arm, for ex-
ample, because levers of the third order are generally employed,
instead of those of the first. Yet no mechanic has succeeded in
producing an artificial arm which will accomplish results one-tenth
as useful as a natural one.

(b) The principal cause, it may, perhaps, be said the only
cause, of rain is a change from heat to cold, or vice versa. Into a
mass of heated air a mass or current of cold air falls or is injected,
or similar phenomena occur with a mass of warm air, and there is
a condensation of the moisture which always exists in the atmos-
phere with a fall of rain. Sometimes the air of higher or lower
temperature is brought by a wind of more or less violence, and the
rainfall is more or less copious. Wheu an upper stratum of cold
air falls upon a lower stratum the change usually proceeds slower
and the rain is more moderate at first, with prospect of longer con-
tinuance. In these atmospheric modifications electricity plays a
part, but whether as cause or effect is not as yet and perhaps never
will be fully determined. Mountain ranges or isolated mountain
peaks affect the local rainfall, or modify it to such an extent that
the entire character of certain countries is changed by these agen-
cies. When there is a range of lofty mountains, like the Sierra
Nevada, at no great distance from the sea the passage of the moist
currents of air toward the interior of the continent is interrupted.
Nearly all the rain falls on the seaward side, and the interior of the
continent becomes a comparative desert, as in North America, de-
pending for the scanty amount of moisture furnished it on other
natural causes. In great deserts like the Sahara rain only falls in
the vicinity of the mountains, where the storms are often violent,
but brief. The climatology of the tropics has been imperfectly
studied, but the rains, which are much more abundant, depend in
the equatorial belt, as in the temperate zones, on changes of
temperature. Droughts occur in Hindostan and in Central Africa,
but it is to be remarked that great desert regions like those of
Northern Africa and Central Asia are only found at a considerable
distance north and south of the equator.

(C) It is common to talk of ignorance as the chief peril of.
democracies. That it/is a peril, no one denies, and we are all, I

188 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGHAPH.

hope, agreed that it has become more than ever the duty of the
state to insist, not only on a more penetrating and stimulative in-
struction, but upon the inclusion of the elements of constitutional
knowledge among the subjects to be taught in the higher standards
of our schools. Democracy has, however, another foe not less per-
nicious. This is indolence. Indifference to public affairs shows
itself not merely in a neglect to study them and fit one's self to
give a judicious vote, but in the apathy which does not care to give
a vote when the time arrives. It is a serious evil already in some
countries, serious in London, very serious in Italy, serious enough
in the United States, not indeed at Presidential, but at city and
other local elections, for some reformer to have^proposed to punish
with a fine the citizen who neglects to vote, as in some old Greek
city the law proclaimed penalties against the citizen who in a sedi-
tion stood aloof, taking neither one side nor the other. For, un-
happily, it is the respectable, well-meaning, easy-going citizen, as
well as the merely ignorant citizen, who is apt to be listless.
Those who have their private ends to serve, their axes to grind and
logs to roll are not indolent. Private interest spurs them on ; and
if the so-called " good citizen," who has no desire or aim except
that good government which benefits him no more than every one
else, does not bestir himself, the public funds may become the
plunder, and the public interests the sport of unscrupulous adven-
turers.

(d) Labor unions have heretofore exerted a large influence in
determining the amount of wages that have been paid to the lowest
and most numerous class of workers in the various departments of
wealth production. But they are now developing certain inherent
weaknesses which are destined in the near future to entirely neu-
tralize their influence. They have sought to better the material
condition of the laborers through combinations looking mainly to
an increase in wages. So long as skill in the several trades was
difficult of acquirement, requiring long periods of apprenticeship
to master them, this was comparatively easy. By limiting the
hours of work, the employment of apprentices, and excluding
nonunion men, they could so decrease the supply of labor as to
materially affect the price. But increase in machinery, increase in
density of population, and through them increase in the subdivision
of labor are fatal to this continued control of the labor supply.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 189

When labor is so subdivided that one man or one woman only
performs some infinitesimal part in the production of a thing, a
part which can be learned in a day, or a week at most, labor can
readily transfer itself from one industry to another without serving
a long apprenticeship. This increases the di^culties of the labor
union, and decreases its chances of success. It is, too, a progres-
sive difficulty; one that increases just as this subdivision of labor
goes on. The easier it is for labor to flow from orte industry to
another, the more extensive must be the control of the union to
have any effect at all. But this is not the only difficulty. Under
our present industrial system, where the materials for wealth pro-
duction, the improved processes, improved machinery, the accumu-
lations of capital, the opportunities for employment — more than
all else the land — are subjected to private ownership, the sub-
division of labor becomes an element of weakness on the part of
the laborer. The more minute that subdivision, the more helpless
and dependent the laborer. Therefoi*e the union has a double
difficulty in exercising a control. One set of workmen can more
easily take the places of the other on strike, and being more de-
pendent on securing employment it must.

(e) It is quite a common mistake on the part of young people
to suppose that the pleasures of literature correspond with the
pleasures of reading. They are so busy absorbing stories and
poetic thoughts that they have no time for reflection, recollection,
or anything more than eulogistic expressions of opinion. But the
pleasures of literature are among the most enduring and varied that
man is permitted to have. " My mind to me a kingdom is " is
said to have been written by Sir Walter Raleigh, when he was in
jail, with no hope of release. His mind was a kingdom because
it was stored with learning of all kinds, and because, also, he had
a clear conscience. He could live within himself. Even the casual
reader of to-day who, in the multitude of literature offered to him
can have no set line of study, gains something more than immediate
enjoyment. He becomes insensibly charged with facts and fancies
which, living in his memory, will be revived in after years and
renew the pleasures they now afford. But the pleasures of litera-
ture are not confined to those derived directly from reading or
from recollection. Literature stimulates original thought and leads
to another field of pleasure — that of writing for the iostructiop or

190 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

enjoyment of others. It leads also to association with men of kin-
dred tastes and enjoyments, and may thus greatly enlarge the
opportunities for pleasure. Every society organized for the study
of literature or practice in the art seems to establish wholesome
friendships that not only last a lifetime, but may be extended to
other generations.

(f ) Poetry has done much to give shape to the religion of the
world. It has been said that Homer gave to Greece her gods.
This is doubtless true in the sense that the Homeric poems did
much to give permanent shape to the Greek mythology, and they
did this not in spite of, but because of, the fact that they were, and
were felt to be, merely poems. In later times, Wordsworth did
more than almost any one besides to give reality and influence to
the religion of the divine immanence. At the same time, there
could hardly be found examples of truer poetry than the lines in
which Wordsworth sings of the beauty and sublimity of the Divine
Presence in this outer world. It is because the poetry is so genuine,
so perfect simply as poetry, that it has had such influence. That
poetry should have been able to influence religion in this way is
what might have been naturally expected. Religion is of the na-
ture of poetry. It implies a certain divine insight. In the religion
of the earlier world men gave life to the things about them. The
world in which they dwelt was a living world. The sun soared
and guided itself through the heavens; men could speak to the
trees and the mountains, and be heard. In later times, by a simi-
lar method, religion reached loftier heights. These heights were
gained largely by faith, and faith rose upon the wings of the im-
agination. It was not by the arguments of philosophers and theo-
logian s that these planes were attained. These arguments followed
after to give permanence to what faith had won. Faith, however,
is always in advance. Thus poetry has lent itself from the earliest
times to be the expression of religion. Indeed, it was probably at
first simply the expression of religion. What is true of religion is
true also of morality. Morality rests not upon argument, but upon
insight. Theories form about these insights. The moral sense
upholds these theories, and is not upheld by them. Morality thus
belongs not to the realm of logic, but to that of the imagination.
The same is true of the whole class of relations to which poetry
has ministered. Love, patriotism, liberty, all these have been sung

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 191

by poetry, because they all bring us into relations with unseen
ideals. They all belong to the realm of faith and imagination,
(g) All the chief stories that we know so well are to be found
in all times, and in almost all countries. Cinderella, for one, is
told in the language of every country in Europe, and the same
legend is found in the fanciful tales related by the Greek poets ;
and still further back, it appears in very ancient Hindoo legends.
So, again, does Beauty and the Beast; so does our own familiar
tale of Jack the Giant-Killer ; so also do a great number of other
fairy stories, each being told in different countries and in different
periods, with so much likeness as to show that all the versions came
from the same source, and yet with so much difference as to show
that none of the versions are directly copied from each other. In-
deed, when we compare the myths and legends of one country with
another, and of one period with another, we find out how they have
come to be so much alike, and yet in some things so different. We
see that there must have been one origin for all these stories, that
they must have been invented by one people, that this people
must have been afterward divided, and that each part or division
of it must have brought into its new home the legends once com-
mon to them all, and must have shaped and altered these accord-
ing to the kind of places in which they came to live: those of
the North being sterner and more terrible, those of the South softer
and fuller of light and color, and adorned with touches of more
delicate fancy.

3. — (Section 4) — Find among the uncredited paragraphs
in Appendix A five that are evidently part of a larger dis-
course. Find five that are clearly independent compositions.

4. — (Sections 2-3) — The dots in the following para-
graphs show where sentences have been omitted. Deter-
mine, by analysis, the missing idea, and write the sentence.

(a) A coal miner well knows that the deeper the pit the warmer
he finds it. Even in the severest winter, at the bottom of a coal
pit, frost would be unknown . Our deepest mines, however, amount
only to a very insignificant opening iu the earth, when its due
proportions are considered. We have never pierced the interior
of our globe to an extent comparable with that of the depth of the

192 A88lG2fM£NT8 ON THE PARAGRAPH.

rind of an orange, on a globe the same size as an orange. Conse-
quently, any observations that can be made even in the deepest
mines are available only to a very limited extent for affording us a
notion of what the interior of the earth may be like. . . . The fact
that the temperature gradually increases the deeper we go shows us
that this increase must still continue even at depths far beyond those
to which we can attain. Suppose, for instance, a red-hot cannon
ball is left to cool, the heat is radiated away from the outside, and
the internal heat, travelling outward from the interior, has to ar-
rive at the outside before it, too, can be dispersed by radiation.
If the cannon ball were a very large one it would be found that
the exterior grew cold while there was still a great deal of warmth
at the centre — in fact, if the dimensions of the ball were suffi-
ciently large it might still be red-hot in the middle, while at the
outside it was cold enough to place your hand upon. Just so is it
with the earth ; it is a vast cooling body; the heat from the inte-
rior is gradually leaking out to the surface, from whence it will be
dispersed by radiation. The deeper that we penetrated into its
interior the hotter it would be found, and from the observed law
of increase in the depths which are accessible to us, it becomes
possible to calculate, within certain limits, what the heat must be
in regions lower still.

(b) The study of art is an efficient auxiliary to all other studies.
Art is the interpretation of nature as she appears in her various
phases ; and as nature is presented to the vision in her subtle forms
and varied effects of chiaroscuro and color — with great thoughts
embodied — she requires from the artist his closest attention to her
truths, discouraging all theories that may do violence to them.
In physical treatises Aristotle is overturned by Bacon ; music and
the drama have undergone great transformations, but Phidias has
never been overturned, neither has Greek art evolved into a bet-
ter. The truths then discovered and embodied in material form
were absolute ; and thus they remain. It is this absoluteness in
art which renders it so efficient a study for the young. Its truths
cannot be evaded nor tampered with. The so-called realistic
novelist may blunder repeatedly in his pictures of life and the
drawing of his characters, which pass unchallenged except by the
studious observer. Should an artist make like blunders he would
become not only the object of criticism, but of ridicule. But . . .

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PABAGBAPH. 193

Aristotle says that the work of the artist is not simple representa-
tion of ordinary fact, but of the universal and ideal which underlies
the ordinary fact, and that here is where poetry is more philosophic
than history.

(c) The notion prevails in this country that we are a very
practical people. We take credit to ourselves for being sensible,
shrewd, and at least mindful of our own interests. This quality
gets a harsher name from our foreign critics. They say that we
are materialistic, grasping, and, in fact, sordid, as the thing we
care most for is money, and that which we are most alive about is
our material interests. They admit that we are " smart," but say
that we are mentally commonplace and unimaginative. . . . We
are a very imaginative people, and in many ways the most unprac-
tical. The old stage conception of Uncle Sam as a good-natured
rustic sitting in a rocking-chair, whittling, was not altogether out
of the way. Whittling is not a renumerative occupation, as a rule,
although this quaint waiter on Providence, who seemed to imagine
that if he sat at ease, all good things would, in the course of time,
pass his way, occasionally did whittle out an invention that would
save him from labor. He answered the gibes of his critics by
pointing out the fact that the chair he sat in was a self -rocker —
a little invention of his own. He was a man of vague dreams
and imaginations.

5. — (Sections 2-3) — In each of the following paragraphs
a sentence is out of place. By a careful analysis discover
the misplaced sentence and put it where it belongs.

(a) The progress of every country is in proportion to the num-
ber of alert and trained minds which it contains. Their knowl-
edge becomes the public knowledge; their opinion becomes public
opinion. National blunders and national misfortunes are almost
invariably the fruit of ignorance. Prosperity goes hand in hand
with knowledge. And as in every community the bulk of the
people are engaged in the pursuit of subsistence — the lawyer by
his cases, the merchant by his wares, the doctor by his patients,
the workman by labor — the duty of accumulating knowledge and
thinking for the community devolves upon a few who are more
highly trained than the rest and more cles^x beaded* Where tjiese

194 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

select minds are numerous and powerful the community will be
intelligent and prosperous; where they are few and timid the
community will be narrow and stunted in its growth. It is the
business of high education to develop as large a body as possible
of these choice minds so that among them a few will be found
who may become leaders of men and leaders in the right direction.

(b) When the wise man uttered the familiar aphorism, " As a
man thinketh in his heart, so is he," he expressed not merely a
moral maxim but a scientific truism. What men mentally dwell
upon they become or grow like. The scientific way to destroy evil
is not to hold it up and analyze it in order to make it hateful,
but rather to put it out of the consciousness. The quality of think-
ing determines consciousness, and consciousness forms character.
Character is, therefore, nothing more nor less than an habitual
quality of consciousness. Action is often temporarily modified
from motives of outward policy, but its constant effort is to be-
come a true copy of the inner pattern. No matter to what extent
one may detest a crime, he cannot immerse his consciousness in its
turbid waves without taking on some of its slime and sediment.

(c) Let us see what effect the single tax would have in any city
or village. It would wipe out most of the selling price of idle
land, because the tax on such land would be just as much as it
would be on land next to it which had buildings or improvements
on it. This would prevent owners from holding land out of use
simply for speculative purposes, for they would know that as the
land increased in value the taxes would increase in proportion.
There would no longer be lack of opportunities for the profitable
employment of capital. Thus land would become accessible to
those who really want it to use, and men would no longer have to
go long distances to get ground on which to build when there was
idle land near at hand. Land would be free. On the other hand,
all improvements, being released from taxation, would receive an
enhanced value. This would stimulate industry, while thrift and
enterprise would receive their just reward instead of being fined as
at present. The land grabber, who holds land idle and will neither
use it himself nor let others use it, would, like his historic proto-
type, find his occupation gone. We can afford to spare him, as he
stands ever a bar to progress, demanding tribute of the industrious

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 195

community. He would soon mingle in the ranks of the legitimate
industries and add to, instead of detracting from, the common
weal. There would no longer be the temptation to conceal prop-
erty by perjury for the purpose of evading taxes.

(d) It is a nice matter to keep the proper balance between
boasting and humility, but if any error is to be committed it had
better be on the side of humility. True humility has in it some
quality of virtue, and is therefore to be preferred to mere boastf ul-
ness. But mock humility, based upon hypocrisy, is a vice of a very
mean order. Boasting is the result of unfounded vanity. The man
of real merit has no occasion to boast, nor as a rule does it occur
to him to do so. Self-confident and resourceful, he relies upon
himself so completely that he never thinks of sounding his own
trumpet. On the other hand, the man of humility is often timid,
inclined to self-depreciation, or else is a hypocrite, assuming an
humble part to deceive and because he has been taught to look
upon humility as a virtue. The boastful man suffers much for
his folly. He is always being humiliated by disclosure of the
hollowness of his pretensions. Unless he is extremely callous he
becomes more wary as experience teaches him the consequences of
his vanity, and as a result notorious boasters are usually young
men. But there are exceptions to all rules. Sometimes the habit
becomes so ingrained that it persists, as with Falstaff, until the
boaster has long passed middle age.

6. — (Sections 5-9) — Criticise the following paragraphs,
pointing out violations of the laws of unity, selection, pro-
portion, and sequence. Eewrite, varying the form of ex-
pression without changing the idea.

(a) Without doubt the first requirement of the successful re-
porter nowadays is that he shall not only dress like a gentleman,
act like a gentleman, but shall be a gentleman. He is usually a
man from twenty-five to forty-five years of age. In appearance
he is so much like the successful broker, the well-informed and
prosperous merchant or lawyer or man of culture, that from his
dress he might easily pass as any of them. He is almost never
seen with a note-book, and rarely uses one except to record names
and dates. He is quiet and dignified in his behavior, considerate

196 ASSlQNMUNTa ON THE PARAGRAPH.

in his thoughts and ways. He has a long interview with a man
and instinctively knows what to suppress, what to modify, what
grammatical errors of colloquial speech to omit — in short, how to
arrange a man's words as the average man likes to appear when
speaking in print.^ The most successful reporter in New York is
without doubt the college-bred man. There are scores of non-college
men in the business, and many of them are among the leaders, but
other things being equal, the college men invariably go to the front.^
Some one has said that the chief drawback of a reporter's calling
is that it exposes him to all kinds of weather and to all kinds of
people. That is true, but even this has its advantages. Exposure
to weather when one is properly prepared is healthful and often
invigorating. The same is true of exposure to people. No other
occupation has the variety — some of it undesirable^ — of that of
the reporter. Almost every day brings a new task for him. He
rubs against luxury and misery.*

(b) A common misapprehension among literary men, that is to
say, versifiers and novelists, is that literature is a matter of words,
a thing of collocation and orthoepy, whereas its chief and essential
function is to express sentiment and thought,^ and the composition
of an impressive painting involves a like process of thought through
which a poet would have to pavss in writing on the same incident.
The picture may be more effective than the poem. The poem must
be read. The picture must be seen. Now, the tendency of the true
drama is to symbolize, to present living pictures; while economy
in words is one of the pressing needs in vitalizing a strong action.
The dramatist, however happy he may be in his diction, knows
that the literary trick can only give finish or incidental aid ; that a
drama is not a literary thing at all, in the sense of being hammered
together out of words ; and that, in fact, it is no drama unless it
remains incomplete in its effectiveness until it is acted. But even
if the " literary " part of it be inconsiderable, yet if it accomplishes
a worthy purpose, it is literature. With this distinction * in mind,

1 Unity. Rewrite in three distinct paragraphs.

3 Should this phrase be omitted ?

« The paragraph seems incomplete. "Why ?

4 Is this comparison properly introduced and clearly developed?

^ Is the distinction clear ?

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 197

it is well to turn to some facts in the history of letters, that ac-
count, in a measure, for some of the misapprehensions. The con-
ditions of the Greek drama were very peculiar, yet its plays were
written to be acted, and in tragedy were highly poetic. The tech-
nique of that stage permitted an ideal union of the literary and the
dramatic ; but the poetic drama is only one form. In all genuine
and bustling comedy, ancient or modern, the literary element has
small part. Plautus was not a man of words. His plays were for
the stage. Real life requires the language of the day, and the
artificialities of literature are entirely foreign to it, for a good play
is life itself. Again,^ verse is merely a convenience, and the belief
that literature, particularly as it concerns the drama, belongs
almost solely to this form of expression has long been exploded,
and has troubled no man, with any appreciation of facts, since the
days of the extinct school of Corneille. The abandonment of verse
was an emancipation. The drama has not declined ; it has simply
expanded. It is constantly expanding and gaining new forms
and fresh strength. From the Shakespearean standard in the
matter of the poetic form it has declined.*

(c) Conversational brilliancy is as distinctly a gift, not to be
acquired, as is any other natural talent, and the fortunate possessors
of it are to be admired and envied. But the average of talkers
can, with care and training, remedy natural defects, or heighten
natural cleverness to the extent of making themselves at least in-
teresting in their conversation. To restrain its range within such
narrow limits as to restrict its subjects to mere idle gossip is cer-
tainly not a fault that one cannot correct, for ordinary intelligence
and ordinary knowledge only are required to attain such informa-
tion as will render pure gossip a matter of choice and not of neces-
sity. The ordinary topics of the day now embrace in themselves
an astonishing width and variety of subject-matter, since they in-
clude the practical application of so much science to the affairs of
daily life, the increasing popular interest in matters of political
government — foreign and domestic — the general discussion of

lis the force of this connective clear? Analyze the paragraph, dis-
cover its theme and principal ideas, and rewrite.

*Does this sentence bring the thought of the paragraph to a fitting
close?

198 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

moral and social problems that events have forced on the direct
attention of the public at large, and the infusion into the ordinary
atmosphere, more or less, of the spirit of scientific investigation.^
The average minds on which, after all, the world depends for the
carrying out of the work planned by the thinkers, need the mutual
friction that intelligent talk gives their abilities, and the recreation
of the pleasures of mutual talk. To this end the cultivation of a
clear and distinct style of speaking, of the habit of observation, of
the acquisition of ordinary knowledge of the current events and
ideas of the day, of succinctness of expression, of liveliness in nar-
ration, of an equal readiness to receive and impart ideas, of courtesy
and good temper in argument — this cultivation is within the reach
of each and every one not abnormally stupid, and would repay the
patience and perseverance of its pursuit. Conversation is by no
means a lost art ; but the main trouble is that it is too seldom re-
garded as an art at all. Yet no nation is so naturally equipped to
become one of good talkers as our own.

(d) A Cent School is so called because the children who come
to it bring each one a cent, clutched tightly in a little hand, or
knotted in the corner of a handkerchief, a daily offering. If the
cent is forgotten, or lost on the way, the child goes home for an-
other, that is all, and has a scolding for carelessness into the bar-
gain. The littlest children go to it ^ — used to go, rather, for indeed
this should all be in the past tense rather than the present, the
Cent School being a thing of the past and, as one might say, a
great-aunt of the present kindergarten, an old woman from the
country, who is rather plain in her ways. Eunice Swain Would have
thought a kindergarten foolishness. Her children did not come
to school to be amused, but to work. She put them on benches in
her big kitchen, because it was warm there, and sat in the dining-
room door, and taught them, or chastised them, as the spirit bade
her. She taught the three R's, and manners, and truth-telling,
and, above all, humility, impressing on these infants, daily, that
they belonged to a generation, not of vipers exactly, but of weak-
lings.

1 Unity ? Sequence ? What should be done with this sentence ?

2 Unity ? Sequence ? Analyze the paragraph and rewrite it.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 199

(e) If a boy who comes to town can begin by paying his way
in the most economical manner, he will do remarkably well. The
chances are against his doing as much as that, so great is the de-
mand for places. Some men even pay to have their sons taken
into great mercantile establishments, though the general experience
of merchants is that the boys who come from poorer homes and
have been brought up to hard work are more likely to push ahead.
Natives and foreigners who have learned frugality and have known
hardship from their boyhood, are getting ahead of those brought
up more tenderly. Yet,^ as I said before, a country boy who must
earn his own support from the very beginning should not risk his
fortune in a great city until he has found an actual opening there.
It is better for him to compel fortune where he is; to improve the
chance nearest to his hand; i this country is increasing so rapidly in
population atid in the variety of its industries and their demands that
throughout its extent new opportunities for a career are constantly
arising. Probably ^ the United States will contain at least 200,000,000
of people by the time boys who read this paper have reached middle
life, and are in the prime of their manly power. New cities will
grow up by the hundred and new outlets for energy and enterprise
will rise.' The twentieth century is at hand and it will bring abun-
dance of work and plentiful opportunities for every boy of to-day who
lives to enjoy its light and participate in its progress. The chances
of fortune in the future will be as great as they have been in the
past, and the facilities which a young man can obtain will be more
numerous. With very few exceptions * — you could count them on
the fingers of one hand — the great fortunes of the Union have
been accumulated within the last fifty years. All the greatest of
them have been made within that period, and they have been made
by country boys. * But there is something more, better, and higher
than a fortune to make. It is character ; and there is acquirement
more valuable than the acquirement of money, and it is the knowl-
edge which enables a man to get the most out of life and to make
himself of the most use. Whatever liLs circumstances, whether he
lives among the crowd of a great city or in the solitude of a country
farm.

1 Unity? a Sequence? « Unity? ^ Sequence?

6 Unity ? Rewrite in two distinct paragraphs.

200 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

({) There is some impatience with the epoch of Queen Anne.
We do not mean the Augustan age, as it used to be called — in
which, however, it would not be easy to point out the Virgil or the
Horace — but the era of the Queen Anne house, the epoch of deco-
rative art in building and in furnishing. But, on the other hand,*
the epoch of Queen Anne is a delightful insurrection against the
monotonous era of rectangular building and of the divorce of beauty
and use.2 The distinction of the present or recent dispensation is
that the two are blended, that neither the house nor anything in it
need be clumsy or ugly. There is no longer an excuse for an un-
sightly table or chair or utensil or the least object of household
convenience. There need be no more waste spaces in the house.
The old entry, which had degenerated from a hall into a mere
lobby or vacant passage, is now taken into the general " treatment "
of the interior, and becomes a delightful part of it, as pleasant and
home-like as any other. The staircase is no longer a railed ladder,
but has risen into a chief ornament of the house, as the noble
staircases in the new Capitol of New York are the most imposing
of its details and decorations.

(g) A man who is in the Wisconsin penitentiary for life has
appealed to the Secretary of the Navy, suggesting that as it is
difficult to recruit men for the Navy, the department might
find a large number of men in the penitentiaries who would be
willing to serve in the Navy rather than in prison. This prisoner
had reasons aside from his desire for release, for writing his letter ;
during the Civil War prisoners were taken from penitentiaries, and
enlisted in both armies. North and South, and many of them made
good soldiers.'^ Of course it would seem to degrade the naval ser-
vice to adopt such a policy, but why should our thought run in that
direction ? We educate convicts to be shoemakers, and to other
trades, in prison ; why might we not set apart certain war-ships to
be manned by United States prisoners? They would be quite as
safe in a war-ship at sea, their confinement would be as close, their
work as hard, and the punishment as severe as when confined in
any stone building that is protected with iron bars and doors.

1 Is ** But, on the other hand " the proper counecting-phrase to use here?
Point out the two ideas in adversative relation.

2 Is the reference clear? s Unity ? Is this sentence needed?

ASStGNMJSNfS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 20l

(h) Literary societies, as a rule, are short lived. The varied
business and family and social duties of members drift them apart
after a few years of regular association, but such societies seldom
altogether die out. They may not hold regular meetings or keep
a record of their proceedings, but the members, or some of them,
get together on occasion and live over again the old life, contrast-
ing it with the present. ^ There are disadvantages as well as ad-
vantages arising from an extended literature of an ephemeral kind.
A greater number of people become refined and educated to a
certain extent, but there is less of solid reading and reflection even
on the part of the few. Under such conditions, the association of
literary minds is required to give purpose and effect to reading.
That we may not scatter too much in reading and in the subjects
of thought, it is desirable that kindred minds should come together
and concentrate thought and study upon particular branches of
literature. This might not be desirable if literature were less
plentiful, but there is little danger in these days that, even a
specialist will become too narrow-minded. Try, though he may,
to limit his thought to a single field, the newspapers and maga-
zines will keep him informed about other subjects than the one to
which he gives serious study. ^ The young folks of to-day have
greater opportunities than were offered to preceding generations to
store their minds with information, refine their tastes, and lay up
for themselves pleasures that last as long as life and reason. They
can do this in a measure by the reading of good books ; they can do
it more effectively by adding thereto association with young people
of similar tastes and ambitions. For the pleasures of literature
are not transient; they linger in the memory and are revived by
every old association, as of well-loved books or well-loved friends.

(i) In the thronged walks of great cities one can easily single
out the artist if he have an observant eye. A certain nonchalance
of gait and manner distinguishes him from the passing throng.
In him you remark none of the haste and bustle of the eager man.
If not overworn, he may wear a regardful joined to a contemplative
air. The oatloaf, carelessly wrapped under the arm of one, desig-
nates him as the crayon artist, for this is an indispensable adjunct

^Sequence?

202 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

to his work when the pencil is in hand. ^ To enjoy the society of a
coterie of artists is to see and enjoy society under a new and en-
lightening phase. But, in the meantime, they idealize as it is their
nature to do, and lead a life quite aside from the majority of their
fellows. They appreciate sport and recreation, life on the sea, as
a yachting cruise, or in the woods and mountains, their sketching
at hand. The idealist is no imitator, and variation from the com-
mon theme marks his every mood and action. To this factor in
his composition we may trace his occasional departure from the
accepted styles of costume, or of wearing the hair, a trivial matter
except as it becomes an occasion of misapprehension.

7. — (Sections S-9) — Reduce each of the following para-
graphs to a single compact sentence. See to it that the re-
lation of main and subordinate ideas is the same in the
sentence as in the paragraph. Avoid, as far as possible, the
phrasing of the original.

(a) Each individual has, locked in his personality, a secret, a
problem meant to benefit himself and the race. It is the sphinx's
conundrum, and each must solve it or perish. The city offers a
million opportunities for its solution where the country offers one.
A Thoreau or an Emerson may find sermons in the running
brooks, but most of us need more explicit teaching, and this the
city affords. All the faculties are stimulated to the highest ex-
ercise, and the achievement of an entire population re-enforces in- ,
dividual effort. Failing, one may try again, starting on a lower
level ; it is only the totally incompetent who lie prone in a pitiful
heap at the foot of the ladder of endeavor. Always the construc-
tive element is stronger than the destructive, and for one that falls,
a hundred rise. So the standard of living is lifted higher and
higher, while the fallen receive the aid of the successful and their
children an education that shall prevent their fall. This is the
aim of the public schools, and an aim that experience must ulti-
mately attain. With civilization there is no longer independence,
but interdependence. No man lives or dies to himself alone;
physically, mentally, and morally he is lifted up or dragged down

1 "What is the connection of this and the following sentence with the
rest of the paragraph ? Rewrite, omitting irrelevant ideas.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 203

by his fellows, but this united effort gains for each a freedom that
would otherwise be impossible of attainment. This is the signifi-
cance of all organization ; the unavailing effort of one is multi-
plied by the efforts of all, and the strength of many makes
a mighty power which upholds the world. Nor does the individual
lose ; each individuality is a thousand-fold more forceful in that
it has the support of the tremendous appliances worked out by the
minds and arms of all. A bar, however strong, is of little use as a
lever unless it has something to rest upon. With the universe at
command, what cannot the individual achieve?

(b) The more men there are who are self-employing and self-
directing, and the fewer there are who are dependent on the will
of others for the employment that means life and comfort to them
and their families, the better. Ten thousand men worth a hun-
dredth of a million dollars apiece are worth a thousand times as
much to a nation and the world as one man worth a hundred mil-
lions. Every man who runs his own business offers opportunity
for a higher grade of workers, and the stimulus of this opportunity
is felt by the very lowest. A hundred such will give employment,
perhaps, to an equal number of superintendents, overseers, book-
keepers and junior partners — all winning their own way to inde-
pendency. Unite these businesses, and instead of an aggregate of
three or four hundred assistants we have perhaps a score hardly
better paid and with much less prospect of independence before
them. The others are driven to some other avenue of self-support,
adding just so many families to the army of dependent laborers.
Thus the over-enrichment of one means the impoverishment of
many and adds to the competition impelled by necessity, which is
the means by which the many are deprived of opportunity. " Skin
for skin ; all that a man hath will he give for his life," and the
greater the number of those who are shut up to wage-earning for
a livelihood the greater the competition which drives the lower
ranks into want and desperation. It is always the lower stratum
that feels first and most keenly the force of harsh conditions, be-
cause upon it rests the weight of the entire superstructure. When-
ever the number of the employers of labor is reduced, the number
of the employed is increased ; and when the number of the higher
grades of employees is reduced, the ranks of the lower grades are
swollen to that extent. With this cumulative pressure the num-

204 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAOMAPH.

bers of the unemployed are necessarily enhanced, and the weakest
of the weak feel first the pangs of absolute dependence. It is
from them that the cry for amendment always comes the first.
Their methods of amendment may be wrong, usually are in fact,
but their prescience of evil is unerring. They know where the
shoe pinches, though they seldom know how to remedy the defect.

(c) To bring genuine art in its highest forms to the multitude
is a good work, in the most emphatic sense of the term. To con-
tribute toward spreading its influence among the masses is a dis-
tinct and lovely charity. Public art galleries and free concerts
have a distinct public educational value that is too often non-
appreciated, because their results are too subtle for quick and
material perception. Many deprecate such missionary work on
the gi-ound that it is sentimental and trivial, compared to the press-
ing physical necessities of the lower classes. Such theorists look
on these efforts with a sneer, preferring what they call doing prac-
tical good. Yet the mind is as real as the body, and satisfaction
of its needs just as practical. One requires food as absolutely as
the other, or it will starve ; from the men and women in whom the
animal nature finds no check in the mental, we get our ignorant,
our paupers, our criminals, our social brutes, not our successful —
our inventors, our thinkers, our social benefactors. If art had no
mission to perform, the love of it would have no existence. The
mistake is to look on it as a luxury, and not a necessity of life.
An art-loving people must be an intelligent people, and less ad-
dicted than others to grosser pleasures. To awaken a love and
appreciation of it, to provide opportunities for its public enjoy-
ment, to increase facilities for the development of obscure talent,
is as practical a labor as it is noble. — Baltimore American.

(d) The interests of labor and capital are in no way identical
under our present system of commercialism. The employer is in
business to make money, and to do that he will reduce wages, water
stocks, evade the payment of taxes, violate contracts, and perjure
himself where dollars are in sight. That applies to the majority
of those doing business in the United States and is due to the
heartless, conscienceless commercialism of the age. So long as it
is to the interest of one man to increase his wealth on an investment
of honest money, and so long as he will increase the stock of his

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 205

concern double and treble, basing the increase of stock on fictitious
values commonly known as water, so long as it is to his pecuniary
interest to get as many strokes as possible of the hammer out of
the workman for the lowest compensation, and so long as it is to
the interest of the workman to get as high a rate of wages for the
shortest number of hours, it is hypocritical to assert that the in-
terests of labor and capital are identical. They are identical in
but one way — they are both striving to make the most money
possible on an investment of dollars and muscle. The trades
unions cannot solve the industrial problem, and it never will be
solved until the public conscience is stirred to such depths as to
cause the great mass of the people who toil with hand and brain,
who labor for bread, and who sympathize with those who labor
for bread, to realize that the labor question is in reality a mis-
nomer. — T. V. Powderly.

(e) All nations in turn and under various pretexts have at-
tacked the Turk. Xot content with this, they have given him the
reputation of being a " sick man," and have approached him with
financial aid. But the more money is lent him, the less he has,
and, notwithstanding this fact, lenders continue to approach him
and assure him of their good services. The Turk has sq many
friends of this class that they become, in his sight, obtrusive and
domineering. They all vie with each other to convince him that
what he wants is guns, rifles, and war-ships, and, as he cannot
buy from all at one and the same time, he can not arrive at a deci-
sion ; he fears to displease those whom he does not favor with an
order, and who would, perhaps, cause him to meet with trouble of
some sort. The situation is a most curious one, for this customer,
who has the reputation of being sick and ever without funds, is
nevertheless considered a good customer, whose orders are wrangled
for. Matters have reached such a pass that the largest contractors
in the world have in his domains not only travelling representatives,
but also fixed agencies and complete administrative committees,
whose duty it is to institute and follow up negotiations with a
view to secure business, and who are backed by the dipl'^matic
representatives of their several countries. There are also, aind
among the most energetic, the representatives of continental gun-
makers and builders of war-ships ; the former are vigorously seek-
ing to sell to Turkey guns for which the market elsewhere is ju5?t

206 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

now very slack ; and the latter endeavoring to burden the Sultan
with a stock of battle-ships, torpedo-boats, cruisers, and scouts, for
which he has no use. The agents of these firms attract notice by
their insistence. . Whether Turkey requires guns and armored
cruisers, or not, is not the question ; the agents are in the country
to secure orders, and orders are what they must secure. All this
is sorrowfully beheld by the patriotic and enlightened Turks who
have at heart the development of their country,

8. — (Sections S-9) — State the substance of the following
selection in a single, compact paragraph, omitting digres-
sions and useless repetitions.

Poetry is virtue expressed in figures of speech. Poetry, I would
say, is the religion of words, while religion is the poetry of deeds.
So that a truly religious man is a living poem. There is rhythm
in his voice, meter and measure in his conduct, ideality in his
thoughts, and sublimity in his emotions. His life becomes a poem
set to the music of harmonious action. To ascend still higher in
the affinity between religion and poetry, I would say that both
are based on revelation, religion on the direct revelations of God
to man — poetry on the revelations of that beauty and loveliness
that lie hidden in nature and man. In fact, had we no religion
to teach us of a God, poetry would unfold to us his everlasting
manifestations. As there is a beautiful image in every piece of
marble which the sculptor's art may bring forth, so there are God's
secrets and lessons in the rocks and rills, in the flowers and trees,
which a poet only can truly depict. The ancients were right in
making their prophets and poets identical, as is showp by the
word vales which expresses both ; for the poet, as the prophet, is a
priest of God.

The soul requires its proper nourishment as well as the body.
It is poetry which feeds the hunger of the human heart for im-
mortality. All things physical teach decay and death. Poetry
idealizes and symbolizes all our surroundings and transfigures even
the sad habiliments of death with life immortal. None can read
Wordsworth's Ode to Immortality without being transported
from this vale of tears and sadness into a happier world of thought
and feeling. We should, however, cherish and foster poetry; not

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAORAPH. 207

only for its own sake and its own beauty, not only as the hand-
maid of religion, a teacher of idealism and morality, as a revealer
of the secrets of nature and hence as a priest of God ; not only as
a comforter and messenger of good tidings of another world and
better life, but for the sake of religion itself as its strongest bul-
wark. Poetry is one of the most conservative of influences. It
preserves the scenes of the past and the evanescent feelings and
emotions, and is perpetuating those lessons and hidden meanings
of things already old, which would otherwise be lost. This
fact is especially serviceable with regard to the forms and cere-
monies of religion. They are an essential part of faith, but seetn
often useless from a prosaic handling. Poetry envelops them with
renewed meaning and life, and by carrying the form in ever roseate
habiliments perpetuates at the same time the lesson and the doc-
trine. Poetry invigorates the Sabbath and holidays, every prayer
and fast, with the new idea of modern life. Especially in times of
doubt and scepticism is this a great service to religion. And in
another direction poetry can demolish the very stronghold of doubt
by poetizing science as Tennyson has done in his In Meraoriam.
Here the poet has sought to discover a unity beneath all the dis-
cordant part of nature which the scientist with his crucible and
microscope could never find. And it seems strange, yet wonder-
fully true, that while poetry thus naturally seeks to elevate faith
and draw it nearer to God, it elevates itself also. No great poet
ever lived but stood on the vantage ground of faith and aspired to
reach the throne of God. If Whittier and Tennyson have gained
the ear of mankind it was by this intense religious fervor which
breathes through their verses. Of ancient Hebrew poetry, notably,
the Psalms of David have been truly called " gorgeous palaces, the
materials of which have been supplied by faith."

9. — (Sections 5-9) — State in a single paragraph the point
and substance of the following conversation : —

Mr. Kearney was crushing the withered needles beneath his
massive tread, and tracking his way unhesitatingly through a
labyrinth that to Gerald seemed trackless. The black coat and the
white collar that had been donned in the honor of Eureka had
given place to a stout flannel shirt, belted in at the waist \ and the

208 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

big man looked the better for the change — more solid and business-
like. He was glancing at the timber with a practical eye, occasion-
ally pausing to rest his hand against one of the great trunks and
to glance upward, as if to estimate how high it ran before branch-
ing. The young journalist mentally compared him to a butcher
appraising the value of a likely beef before he ordered it slaught-
ered. Gerald loved fine timber, and he spoke with this feeling
stFong in him.

*^ It seems a sin and a shame to cut down such trees," he said,
with a touch of indignation in his voice.

Kearney turned and looked at him.

"Ehl That's the way it seems to ye, I don't doubt. Look
deeper, man, look deeper."

Grerald stared at him in astonishment, but Mr. Kearney went
on.

" It's the destiny of every forest to be first cut down and then
cut up for the use o'man. Which had the biggest share of honor
— the trees that was left standin' in Tarshish, or them that was
brought to Jerusalem to build Solomon's temple ? '*

Had Solomon himself in all his glory appeared in one of the dim
arcades he would scarcely have surprised young French more than
did this utterly unlooked-for reasoning in the man beside him.

" For see here now," pursued Kearney, having paused a moment
for the answer that did not come, " this tree's a-growin' here an'
has been for a thousand years, maybe two; no man knows till
she's cut an' he counts the rings in her. Down she comes to-
morrow, we'll say, an' then what? Maybe this wood will floor a
ball-room, an' be touched by pretty feet you'd sooner kiss than the
Pope's; maybe it'll build the house that the Prisident of the
United States *11 be born in ; maybe a bit of it'll be the soundin'-
board of a pulpit, an' echo God's word preached to the savin* of
who knows how many souls. Isn't that better for it nor growin'
an' rottin' an* shakin' pine needles down on yer head an^ mine ? "

By this time Gerald had found his tongue. " I had no idea you
were so imaginative, Mr. Kearney," he said.

"I dunno as it's all imagination," answered Kearney. " Maybe
it is : anyhow, it's possible, an' one thing's sure. Let this timber
stand, an' never a foot but an Injun's will pass under its shadow ;
cut it down, an' ye fill the bay with sails, ye put bread in men's

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 209

mouths, an' ye give me the means o* doin' what I'm boand to do
— o' makin* a man o* Jimmy such as his father never had the
chance to be."

" You're right and I'm wrong," said Gerald, somewhat touched
by the earnest note in his host's voice as he uttered the last words.
" They're fine trees ; but down with them, and make a ladder for
your boy to climb as high as you'd like to see him." — Jessup:
Under the Redwood Tree.

10. — (Sections S-9) — Kewrite the following wordy news
telegram, reducing it to about three hundred words. Pre-
serve all the important news.

San Diego, Cal., April 14, 1908. — The American battleship
fleet sailed to-day on a summer sea. In four regularly intervaled
columns, with flagships leading abreast and pointing the way
to the first home anchorage' the fleet has found in its four months
of cruising around the southernmost end of the western hemi-
sphere, the sixteen ships swept into the sheltered cove of the
sea behind the towering headlands of Point Loma, and halted
for four days of merry-making for men and officers. Governor
James N. Gillett was here officially to welcome the fleet. His call
upon Rear Admiral Robley D. Evans, who took the fleet out of
Hampton Roads last December, was paid during the afternoon.
Local committees also went to the Connecticut to tell Admiral
Thomas, and throjiigh him all the men of the fleet, how glad the
people of California are to see such a splendid representation of
the American navy as the "battle fleet" constitutes. To-night
Admirals Thomas, Sperry, and Emery, and the commanding officers
and members of the various staffs, were entertained at an elaborate
but informal dinner at the hotel Del Coronado. It was their first
taste of the hospitable functions which have been planned in their
honor all the way to San Francisco and beyond. The beauty of
the day's spectacle, when with flashing signals and wonderfully
executed manoeuvres the ships were brought to anchor in the lazy
rolling Paciflc waters, was rivalled to-night, when for three hours
every vessel was outlined in fire. Thousands of incandescent bulbs
were strung along decklines, up masts, far out on the signal yard-
arms, up and down the huge funnels and down to the water's edge

210 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

at stem and stern. In fairy-like form the ships stood out against
the night, and in letters six feet high the name of each vessel was
spelled across its forward bridge. The glow of the lights flooded
the sea for thousands of yards away, the gleaming outlines shim-
mering in phantom-like reflections.

During all this radiant display the old lighthouse njarking the
rounding point to the north — Point Loma*s lonely beacon — flashed
its alternating red and white signals in democratic simplicity, and
wholly unmindful of the spectacle the coming of the ships and their
illumination afforded. On shore scores of red signal fires were
maintained throughout the evening as a welcome sign, and above
all, high in the reaches of the sky, shone a brilliant southern moon,
hurrying its way to romantic fulness.

The fleet let go its anchors — all splashing in the water with
precision at 12.47 p.m. — just thirteen minutes before the anchor-
ing hour arrived. For two hours the ships had been in sight and
their coming had been watched with wonder by the waiting throngs.
Never before have armor-clads of the Connecticut type, displacing
more than 16,000 tons of water in their occupancy of the sea, been
seen along the Pacific coast, and the occasion of their first visit is to
be made a memorable event wherever they touch port or cruise close
enough to the shore to be seen by the cities and resorts that skirt
the edge of the coast.

The splendid condition of the ships was manifested in every way.
Outwardly they were the same sparkling white and buff units of a
powerful aggregation of fighting force that pointed their way out
of Hampton Roads on a home coast, 3000 miles away, with the
President showing the way on his cruiser-yacht, the Mayflower.
Internally the ships were in better condition than when they
started, engines working with the smooth thrust and throw of peT>
feet bearings and careful handling, and boilers making steam with
less consumption of coal because of the increased efficiency in the
firing rooms. The wash of the waves along the water line dis-
played from two to three feet of red armor belts and showed com-
paratively little sea growth, despite the long stay in the temperate
and tropical waters.

Rear Admiral Charles M. Thomas, commanding, was on the
bridge of the Connecticut as the fleet steamed to its anchorage.
The absence of Rear Admiral Evans, who is ill at Paso Robles, is

assignm£:nts on the paragraph. 211

deeply regretted on all sides. Admiral Thomas at the dinner re-
ferred to the matter with much feeling.

Filmy ribbons of smoke on the horizon gave the first hint of the
approaching vessels this morning, although wireless messages had
already told of their near presence. Eyes were strained to catch
the first glimpse of the ships, and telescopes and marine glasses
were at a premium. The day had opened black and threatening,
and it was not until after 10 o'clock that the sun burned its way
through the bank of lowering clouds. Once its rays had penetrated
the mist, however, the sky quickly cleared, and by the time the
fleet came into view there was not a fleck to be seen.

The Connecticut was here two weeks ago with Admiral Evans,
but she was gray with the grime of heavy target practice then,
while to-day she appeared an immaculate picture in white and
buff.

To the left of the Connecticut steamed the Georgia, flagship of
Rear Admiral Emery, commanding the second division, and in her
wake were the Rhode Island, Virginia, and New Jersey. The
third line from the shore was headed by the Alabama, flagship
of Rear Admiral Sperry, who is now in command of the second
squadron and third division, but soon is to be the senior officer
of the entire fleet. With the Alabama were the Illinois, Kearsarge,
and Kentucky. The fourth and outward column was headed by
the Maine, with Captain Giles B. Harbor flying a triangular flag
of blue from the main truck, denoting temporary command of the
division, which included the Missouri, Ohio, and Minnesota. The
absence of Rear Admiral Evans leaves a vacancy in flag rank in
the fleet.

When about a mile and a half off shore, a four-hoist signal
flashed from the forward arm of the Connecticut. " Stand by to
anchor," it was read, and in the space of a few seconds answering
signals in duplicate were broken out from all of the ships.

The vari-colored flags showed their rede, blues, and yellows
brilliantly in the sun, and gave a gala appearance to the fleet. No
ideal of the marine artist could have added to the effect. Speed
cones hanging from yard-arms on the flagships gradually descended
and the white, combing bow waves in front of the advancing ships
grew fainter and fainter until only the wash of the blue waves
against the cutwaters was left^ and the ships stood motionless.

212 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGBAPU.

No commanding voice or pipe of boatswain could be heard on
shore, but almost simultaneously anchors were loosened, and the
splash of water as the heavy iron hooks dragged several tons of
heavy chain after them into the sea told of the safe arrival home
of the most noted of America's fleet.

Lost in admiration, the crowds ashore forgot to cheer. Absolute
Eilence marked the arrival.

11. — (Section 12) — Narrow each of the following general
subjects to an available working theme, and then give to
each an appropriate title : * —

1. Earthquakes.

16.

Postage Stamps.

2. Sports.

17.

Africa.

3. Fiction.

18.

Irrigation.

4. Travel.

19.

Insects.

5. Air-ships.

20.

Home Rule.

6. Electricity.

21.

Interoce£inic canals.

7. Dogs.

22.

Radium.

8. Spelling.

23.

The Short Story.

9. Railways.

24.

College Papers.

10. Talking Machines. 25.

Mining.

11. Mountains.

26.

Forestry.

12. Libraries.

27.

American History,

13. Kipling.

28.

Tramps.

14. Music.

29.

Advertising.

15. Photography.

30.

Strikes.

12. — {Section 12) —

Find the working theme in each of

the first ten paragraph

s in Appendix A, and give to each an

appropriate title.

13. — {Section 12) -

- Give appropriate single headings to

five short editorial paragraphs to be found in any carefully

1 Examples of paragraph-titles may be found in the newspapers and in
the marginal notes of such books as the Encyclopxdia Britannica, Gar-
diner's Thirty Years* War, Bryce's Holy Roman Empire, Creighton's
Age of Elizabeth, and Hallam's Works. The short isolated paragraphs
to be found in the editorial columns of the newspapers, and the related
paragraphs of most books, are usually printed without titles.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PABAORAPH. 213

edited newspaper. Of the headed articles in the news-
columns of the papers, the first generally corresponds to
the title, and the second, which is usually longer, corre-
sponds, roughly, to the working theme.

14. — (Section 13) — Find the topic-statements of the para-
graphs quoted in the introductory chapter of this book.
In each case phrase a bripf and appropriate title for the
paragraph.

15. — (Section 17) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the topic-statement comes first ; first and last ; last.

16. — (Section 17) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the topic-statement is implied. Discover the theme in
each of these paragraphs and state it in a brief sentence or
phrase suitable for a title.

17. — (Sections 14-17) — Supply, as skilfully as you can,
the topic-statements which have been omitted from the fol-
lowing paragraphs : —

(a) ... Instead of seeking for light, we set up an intellectual,
religious or political standard of our own creation or, worse yet,
accept one made for us by others. The struggle for existence is so
intense that but few take the time to do their own thinking. Of
course, it is easier to accept ready-made ideas, but if all of us
would follow blind leadership so blindly we should soon be a na-
tion of intellectual slaves. It is the solemn duty of every citizen
to analyze the peculiar measures and doctrines which may from
time to time agitate the country. He should give a dispassionate
hearing to the advocates of both sides, read the evidence in a
judicial spirit, and consider the probable effects of the rejection
or adoption of the policy or law under discussion. After arriving
at a conclusion he should have the courage to maintain his position
under any and all circumstances, and the good taste of listening
with deference to the opinions of his antagonists. In no other
way can true independence of character be developed. By no
other method can free institutions be preserved. A nation whose

214 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

citizens have learned to think for themselves canuot be conquered
in war nor excelled in peace. — Chicago Graphic,

(b) . . . We find this exemplified by the thousands of books of
travel, which are written after a few months mostly spent in catch-
ing trains and boats and in the inspection of public buildings, when
all the world is on the offensive and holds one at arm's length. To
state the case paradoxically, the only way in which one can travel
and see anything, is to settle down and learn the secrets contained
within the radius of a square mile. Thoreau, as I am reminded,
puts this much more suggestively, when he says, " I would fain
travel by a foot-path round the world." The man who cannot
see clear through rags or broadcloth, and find the Man contained
within, ought to be kept away from pens and ink and paper;
otherwise, he is a mischievous force in the world. It is no more
the office of literature to add to our social fog, than it is the office
of chemistry to create violent stenches for the sake of the stench
and for no other purpose. The rarely beautiful in art is the com-
mon life transfused in the alchemy of beautiful thought; and this
is only possible to writers whose intellects are true to their imagina-
tions, and whose hearts are good. No man without illusions has
ever done anything great in art — anything that is as permanently
true as the divine love in the world in every age. It is the living
of life in the quick which compels expression and makes that
expression the w^ork of genius.

(c) ... The farmer's son who, instead of staying upon his
father's acres, or of acquiring a farm for himself to walk behind
the plough, runs away to town to try his fortune in some occupa-
tion which will not harden his hands and tan his skin, is no longer
an exception, but is fast becoming the rule. The native American
no longer likes to dig ditches, or to work on the highways, or to
throw up railroad embankments, or to do the rough work in coal
mines. But this class of work has to be done, and somebody has
to be found to do it ; if not the native American, then somebody
else. It is idle to say that the native American is crowded out of
such employment by the competition of the foreign immigrant^^
who is willing to work for lower wages ; for the number of Ameri-
cans who would perform that sort of work, were the wages
ever so high, is entirely insufficient, and constantly growing less.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 215

Here is, therefore, an indispensable service for which the foreigner
is needed.

18. — (Section 19) — Develop the following topic-state-
ments by giving the particulars and details which naturally
seem to be called for : —

1. The early Pilgrim Fathers had many difficulties to overcome.
/^ 2. Even in the smallest towns you will find a specimen of almost
every grade of humanity.

3. Napoleon combined in himself traits of character that are

usually thought to be contradictory.

4. The national government is a complex piece of machinery.

5. Much of the so^alled " Great American Desert " is now under

cultivation.

6. Fashions change with bewildering rapidity.

7. It seems possible to carry on three trains of thought at once.

8. Washington in his lifetime was often made the object of

bitter denunciation.

9. Many varieties of birds are seen in the north throughout the

winter months.

10. One may find in the state of California almost every climate

of the globe.

11. The American citizen has other political duties besides voting.

12. History is full of examples of heroism.

13. Elizabeth's reign was most eventful.

14. There was disaffection in the South for years before the war.

15. A young man may enter public life by any one of several

doors.

16. There are many things to be said in favor of a longer presi-

dential term.
K 17. American capitalists have had what they think to be good
reasons for forming trusts and combinations.

19. — (Section 19) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which development is by particulars and details.

20. — (Section 20) — Develop each of the following topic-
statements by adding sentences that restrict or enlarge its
meaning: —

216 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

. 1. Not all poets have written poems.

2. The common notion of success is fallacious.

3. There is a kind of criticism which is in itself creative,

4. A good partisan is not always 'a good citizen.

5. All students should have an interest in sports.

6. Freedom is not an unmixed blessing.

7. The mind is in one sense a machine.

8. Books are sometimes better companions than persons.

9. 1 have said that Lincoln was trusted by all the friends of

the Union ; but the word trusted is not strong enough ; he
was ...

10. We speak of the right to vote ; but is voting properly regarded

as a right ?

11. In this country there is no longer any North or South ; the

terms are obsolete ; there is only . . .

12. What do we mean when we say that one man is liberal and

another man is conservative? What can we mean but
that . . .?

13. Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.

14. Ambition, if it is of the right sort, is a powerful agency for

good.

15. Journalism may be as important and useful a profession as

literature.

21. — (Section 20) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the development is by definitive statements.

22. — (Section 20) — Develop the following topic-state-
ments by presenting the negative, contrary, or contrasting
ideas which suggest themselves in connection with each: —
^ 1. To eat a mouthful of food or to take a breath of air is to ex-
pose one's self to manifold dangers.

2. No man ever tells the whole truth.

3. All men are created equal.

4. The feudal system had many advantages.

5. The United States would gain by annexing Canada.

6. Experience is a dear school.

7. To take one's opinions ready-made from others saves a great

deal of thinking.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 217

8. A high tariff promotes infant industries, but . . .

9. To have few friends is one way of escaping grief and disap-

pointment.

10. A witty Frenchman once said that language is given to men

in order that they may conceal their thoughts.

11. The printing-press has done much harm by putting worthless

literature within the reach of all classes of reader^.

12. One effect of the trusts has been to lower the costs of living.

13. Many decisions of the courts are manifestly unjust.

14. All things come round to him who waits.

15. Knowledge breeds discontent.

16. Geniuses are uncomfortable persons to live with.

23. — (Section 20) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the development is by negative, contrary, or contrast-
ing statements.

24. — (Section 21) — Develop the following topic-state-
ments by adding real comparisons, or illustrations : —

1. The common notion of success is fallacious.

2. A bad beginning does not always imply a bad ending.

3. A good partisan is not always a good citizen.

4. The study of Latin may be for one student as practical as is

the study of engineering for another.

5. Reason unaided will not always lead a man to correct his
. errors.

6. A republic is not the best form of government for every

nation.

7. The greatest names in literature are those of men who were

not rich.
»/ 8. An examination is often a poor test of a student's acquirements.
9. In times of peril the strong men came to the front.
10. Indiscriminate charity is often worse than none.

25. — (Section 21) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which real comparisons, or illustrations, are used.

26. — (Section 22) — Develop the following topic-state-
ments by giving specific instances or examples: —

218 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PABAORAPH.

1. Stady and discipline will accomplish much.

2. Shakespeare's heroes are always free moral agents.

3. One's opinions are not always a sure indication of one's prob-

able conduct in a given case.

4. Mere wishing is not desire.

5. Unless a duty is performed in the right spirit, it is not done

morally.
y" 6. We need not go far from our own homes to find examples of
courage and fortitude.

7. Railroads and telegraphs make the world smaller.

8. It is the minor characters in Dickens's novels which often

prove the most entertaining.

27. — (Section 22) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which specific instances, or examples, are used.

28. — (Section 23) — Develop the following topic- state-
ments by adding reasons that are not specific instances : —

1. Senators should be elected by popular vote.

2. The people of America have less real freedom than the people

of England.

3. Rules of morality have little effect on conduct.

4. Hamlet was not insane.

5. All anarchists should be deported.

6. Prohibition weakens the will power of the citizens.

7. The United States would gain by annexing Canada.

8. Nothing is more important than caring for the health.

9. A republic is not the best form 'of government for every nation.
^10. Labor unions have improved the condition of the laborer.

11. Hamilton's conception of government was superior to Jeffer-

son's.

12. A foreign war is the most powerful agency in uniting all parts

of the country.

13. All universities should be controlled and supported by the

government.

14. Longfellow has written one poem that will live.

15. Life was more interesting fifty years ago than it is now.

16. A great deal of time is wasted in reading the daily newspapers.

17. The Mexican war was unjustifiable.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 219

18. The government should establish postal savings banks.

19. Municipal elections ought to be non-partisan.

20. The national capital ought to be removed to a place nearei

the centre of the country.

29. — (Section 23) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the idea is developed by giving reasons for the topic-
statement.

30. (Section 24) — Develop the following by making one
or more applications of the principle announced in each
topic-statement : —

1. The dangers of work are not the greatest in the world.

2. If young men were willing to forego the luxuries of life, they

might easily save up a competence for old age.

3. " Know thyself," the wise maxim of the Greeks, is as appli-

cable to-day as it was 2000 years ago.

4. Nothing succeeds like success.

5. The best business methods are nothing but applied honesty.

6. A good habit, persisted in, becomes continually easier of per-

formance.

7. A nation, like a person, is bound by the demands of justice.

8. If education is to be of value, it must be systematic.

9. Recreation, in its proper place and time, is as necessary to

mankind as work.

10. True genius thrives on discouragements and failures.

11. The exercise of suffrage is a duty.

12. Monopolies are seldom beneficial to the people.

13. Education will solve the race question in the South.

14. The country owes a debt to its literary men.

15. The Bible is one of the monuments of literature.

16. No pursuit is ignoble if it is conscientiously followed.

17. A taste for books is a safeguard against evil thoughts.

18. A good memory is a priceless possession.

19. When good men enter politics, corruption will go out of

fashion.

20. Conversation is the greatest of the fine arts.

21. Do the duty that lies nearest you.

22. It is false charity to give to every stranger that asks for aid.

220 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

23. The shoemaker should stick to his last.

24. Do not try to tell all you know.

25. Good workmanship always tells in the end.

26. Do not be ashamed of poor relations.

31. — (Section 24) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the development is from the statement of a principle
to its application.

32. — (Section 25) — Develop the following topic-state-
ments by presenting causes, or effects : —

1. The Civil War was a benefit to the United States as a whole.

2. The purchase of Alaska was a profitable investment.

3. The predictions of the weather bureau are coming to be more

trustworthy.

4. Electricity as a means of illumination will ultimately supersede

gas.

5. Strikes will become rarer as time goes on.

6. A standing army is unnecessary in this country.

7. Betting, even on a small scale, is a questionable practice.

8. The use of steel and concrete has brought about many changes

in methods of building.

9. It is not difficult to account for the rapid growth of Chicago.

10. The destruction of our forests is a serious matter.

11. The discovery of gold in California threw the country into

great excitement.

38. — (Section 25) — Find paragraphs in Appendix A in
which the development is by cause, or effect, or both.

34. — (Sections 18-25) — Write a paragraph of 150 to 200
words beginning with one of the following topic-statements.
After writing, note in the margin the various methods of
development that you have employed.

1. In this age novels are more effective than sermons as teachers

of morality.

2. There are several ways of learning a foreign language.

3. A high tariff has both good and evil results.

>l 4. The telephone may be a nuisance as well as a convenience.

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAOBAPH. 221

5. All great men have had their moments of folly.

6. Newspaper English has a few well-defined characteristics.

7. Unanimity should not be required of a jury.

8. There should always be a motive in reading.

9. The American Indian, as represented in the old school readers,

was a heroic figure.

10. Novel-reading presents some dangers.

11. All have their peculiarities.

^12. The lazy man has some advantages over the active man, after
all.

13. Lincoln's administration was most eventful.

14. Reforms are being advocated without number.

15. Book-buying has become a fine art.

16. The world must present a queer spectacle to a man seven feet

tall.

17. Whittier*8 poems show that he was a friend of the slave.

18. Selfishness often defeats its own ends.

19. Books written by very good men are sometimes extremely

tedious. ,

20. Races between ocean steamers are attended with great danger.

21. There are persons to whom the commission of a solecism is

nothing short of a crime.

22. At the opening of the present century the map of Europe was

in many respects different from that with which our school
children are familiar.

23. There are some evils unavoidably connected with athletic

sports.

24. Arbitration will ultimately do away with war.

25. The newsboy has his troubles.

26. A great navy is unnecessary to the safety of this country.

27. Washington and Lincoln present several contrasts in character.

28. We no longer know how to live upon little.

29. It is said that every man has his price.

30. Confidence is a plant of slow growth.

31. There is an art of spending money just as there is an art of

making money.

32. All men are wiser than any one man.

33. The greatest happiness of the greatest number is the founda-

tion of morals and legislation.

222 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

34. Our life is what our thoughts make it.

35. Nothing is the worse or the better for being praised.

36. Very little is needed to make a happy life.

37. No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere

in dealing with himself.

38. Few things are impossible to diligence and skill.

39. The applause of a single human being is of great consequence.

40. We love some people the better for their faults.

41. Censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.

35. — (Section 26) — Find introductory, transitional, and
summarizing expressions in some of the paragraphs of
Appendix A.

36. — (Section 26) — Summarize each of the following
paragraphs in a brief, pithy sentence or maxim : —

(a) Hardly any better fortune can come to a conscientious
man than to find his inclinations fit and feasible to follow. In
many cases it happens through no fault of his that he cannot do
what he wants to. Obligations are laid upon him that he is bound
to discharge, and in discharging them he has to turn his face
whither he would not choose to go, and do the work that is put
before him rather than that his heart is in. But in very many
other cases the choice is within his reach, if only he has the man-
hood to make it and the resolution to stick to it. If there are
lions in his path he must have grit enough to drive them out of it,
even though that is a tedious process. When the choice is a high
choice, and the man is a strong man in earnest, the lions have to
move out. The average man, of course, prefers to go round them,
even though the detour gets him into byways that are not of his
choice.

(b) If people could get the idea that what is called education
is a good thing in itself, without reference to its practical uses,
what a long step ahead the world would take ! The notion that
education must be for some definite purpose is responsible for
much misdirected effort and many disappointments. If we were
asked what is the great need of the day in ordinary life, we should^
say that it is intelligent readers and critical appreciators of art.
It is certainly a very crude idea of life that an education is wasted

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 228

if it is not practically applied to one of the learned professions, to
authorship, or to art, or to teaching. The impulse for any of
these careers is strong enough. What needs leavening and liberal-
izing and lifting up intellectually is the great mass of society.

(c) It is not true that moral reputation is a poor security for hon-
est behavior in places of public trust. There is no better security
than the recognized fact that a man lives an upright and indus-
trious life, whatever his circumstances may be. It is a common
thing, of course, for designing men to make loud professions of
morality only to cover their intentions of rascality ; but they are
as often rich as poor, and the test of financial condition proves
nothing in any case. The remedy for municipal corruption does
not lie in giving preference to men on the score of the supposed
value of a well-filled pocket as a protection to their integrity.
Neither a want of money nor an abundance of it is a conclusive
recommendation. Men are to be judged not by the amount of
their possessions, but by what society knows of their personal habits
and methods. It is a notorious fact that the people of a city fre.
quently elect individuals to responsible offices who have no stand-
ing in point of morals or of business ability, and who could not
obtain corresponding employment from any private firm or corpo-
ration. Those are the persons who concoct schemes of municipal
robbery, and whose official actions can always be controlled with
bribes. If the reputable voters deliberately choose such men to
manage the affairs of a city, they must expect corruption to pre-
vail. There is only one way to secure the right kind of municipal
government, and that is to select public officers with the same re-
gard for capable and trustworthy qualities that is constantly shown
in the selection of agents to handle funds and execute other impor-
tant functions in the ordinary course of commercial transactions.

37. — {Section 2&) — Supply in each of the following para-
graphs a brief transitional or directive sentence. The dots
indicate the place where the sentence is to be inserted. The
idea of the omitted sentence is to be discovered by a care-
ful analysis of the paragraph. '

(a) There can be no question that the colleges count for
more in the thought of the country than ever before in its history.

224 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PABAQRAPH.

There have been times, it is true, when college-bred men have had
more exclusive control of public affairs, and have given them more
definite guidance, but there has never been a time when the colleges
counted for so much in the life of the country, or when their adjust-
ment to the life was so complete. The changes that have gone on
so rapidly in college management, schemes of study, and student
life have registered a corresponding change in the thought and
life of the country. Enormous increase of wealth, specialization
of work and occupation, expansion of experience, multiplication of
resource, more comfortable and luxurious habits, have character-
ized the history of the last forty years on this continent, and the
college has shared in these tendencies. Student life has become
more luxurious in habit and appointment simply because the home
life from which the students come has grown more aniple and
luxurious. It is idle to accustom young men to habits of ease at
home and then expect them to adopt Spartan simplicity at college.
The college is too intimately allied with the National community
to resist a well-nigh universal tendency. The older graduate, who
notes the change from the severe frugality of his own time to the
ease and elaboration of to-day, often feels that such a change is nec-
essarily disastrous. . . . There is more vulgarity in this country
than there was forty years ago, but there is also a far richer and
more wholesome life. There are more resources, more pleasures ;
there is more out-of-door life, more health, more culture ; and con-
sequently, more force. We are entering into possession of the
world and of our own lives. Instead of working six days in the
week, fifty-two weeks in the year, we are giving ourselves time
for nature, recreation, rest, and social intercourse. Our dress is
brighter and more varied, our diet is ampler and more nourishing,
and we have learned the value of open air and exercise. Our gain
in weight, stamina and health even in twenty-five years is notice-
able. We are doing more work than ever, but we are doing it
under better conditions. Continuous work in one direction, with-
out rest or variation of effort, ends in physical exhaustion, as un-
broken monotony of habit and thought is very likely to end in
insanity. We have gained immensely in physical and mental
health by the expansion of our interests and the multiplication of
our resources. We buy more books and pictures, hear more music,
drive, sail, walk, travel and lest more than in former days, and we

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 225

are the better for it. We have gone beyond the atheism of believ-
ing that rest is waste and wholesome pleasure sin.

(b) The beauties of nature are to the layman a source of
pleasure. He views the ocean in the serenity of a calm and
peaceful evening, or in the grandeur of a tempest at noonday ; the
landscape, with its gray and purple mountains, its varied dis-
tance and richly colored foreground ; the sunset with golden tones,
and the moonlight that casts a silvery radiance o'er the scene —
these are to him the emblems of poetry. The responsibility of
presenting these various phases of nature for the recognition of
others is not his, however. He has only to enjoy and express his
feelings in a general way. ... He has the responsibility of ren-
dering what he observes for the enjoyment and instruction of men.
He must heed the laws which govern representation in art, and
those rules that are of practical importance in the technical work.
It is not sufficient for the astronomer to see ; he must go through
with calculations of which the mere observer knows nothing. So
the artist, with powers of his own, must give to the people the re-
sults of aesthetic knowledge derived from his observation.

(C) Most people think of an addition to a nation's dominions
as they do of an addition to an individual's possessions. John
Smith is more prosperous if he acquires more real estate ; and
the United States are supposed to be more prosperous if they ac-
quire more territory. ... I see little in the whole Hawaiian epi-
sode but one long course of error. The American consumer has
paid for thirty years (barring the brief respite while the McKinley
tariff act was in force) a tidy sum annually to the Hawaiian
planters. In recent times this tribute has amounted to twelve or
fifteen millions of dollars a year. For this we have nothing of
any real value to show, — unless it be that we have a stepping-
stone to the Philippines, another dependency hardly less unprofit-
able.

(d) The homes of fashionable New Yorkers are, as a whole,
the most sumptuous and comfortable in the world. Space, light,
tempered warmth in every part, ventilation and every other ac-
cessory of hygiene, are here as liberally provided, as are the pic-
turesque and decorative ideas of architects of the highest modern
accomplishment ; and, in numbers, these stately dwellings are like

226 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

strawberries in June. From them we may go on to a wide yariety
of smaller and less pretentious houses, in which also may be ap-
plauded the best art of our modern decorative leuaissance. Old
prosaic structures of brownstone, or brick, that were made in
former days to enshrine the ugly fittings and furniture of our im-
mediate predecessors, pass under an architect's eclipse to reappear
in charming and covetable guise, every corner of their renovated
interiors an invitation to domestic rest and peace. . . . Through
every keyhole, in at every chink and cranny, floats the atmosphere
of unrestfulness prevailing in America, and insistent inTNew York.
No sooner is a family installed in the new abode, than one hears
of its going off to try life in some other quarter of the globe.
The deserted house is either shut up in desolation, or let to some
one else.

38. — (Sectum 28) — Account for any inversions you find
in the paragraphs of Appendix A. Often the reason for
the inversion will be clear if the sentence in which the
inversion occurs is rewritten in the usual order.

39. — {Section 29) — Point out the contrasting words,
phrases, clauses, and sentences in some of the paragraphs in
Appendix A.

40. — {Section 29) — Find, in some of the paragraphs in
Appendix A, illustrations of balanced structure and parallel
construction.

41. — {Section 30) — Point out, in some of the paragraphs
of Appendix A, the reference words, both prospective and
retrospective, used to carry the thought from point to point.

42. — {Section 30) — In the following paragraphs the con-
junctions and connecting phrases such as hut, yet, however, no
doubt, of course, in fact, it is true, moreover, thus, even, also,
hence, on the other hand, etc., have been omitted. Analyze
each paragraph and supply connectives where, in your
opinion, they are needed : —

(a) Healthy Americans for the most part are interested in
sports. A newspaper must take account of this great portion of

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 227

the population who demand sporting news, and whose demand is
so reasonable aud innocent that every newspaper now prints this
information fully and carefully. This is one of the offences that
glare in the eyes of the critics. Every newspaper that has or aa-
pires to any considerable circulation must print every day a great
multitude of items of news that for many of its readers have little
or no interest and to some seem quite unworthy the space they
occupy. The number of men and women who take no interest in
the proceedings of Congress, who do not care to know what the
Legislature may be at, who find the tariff an intolerable nuisance
and the silver question a bore, and who can get along comfortably
without knowing anything about great public affairs, is much
larger than their highly educated fellow-mortals suspect. These
persons are mostly of orderly lives, simple tastes, and innocent
minds. They have their pursuits and their pleasures, and they
want to read about their pursuits and their pleasures in the news-
papers. They hs^ve an appetite for almost any gossip or happening
that is of contemporaneous human interest and not beyond their
range of sympathy and understanding. Is it sinful, is it debasing,
is it vulgar, to print news readable and acceptable to this audience,
provided the matter printed is not immoral or improper? I do
not think so. This class of persons constitutes a very large pro-
portion of the population of every town or city. They are en-
titled to consideration from the newspapers. They are respectable,
and the news that interests them is respectable news, though in
point of historical importance it usually ranks some distance below
announcements of the abdication of sovereigns and the discovery
of new and valuable laws governing the action of tides and the be-
havior of planets. For printing such news the press is denounced
for giving up so much space to " trash."

(b) There are two forms of criminality, the atavic and evolutional.
Atavic criminality is the return of certain individuals, whose
physiological and psychological constitution is morbid, to such
means of the struggle for existence as civilization has suppressed,
such as murder, robbery, etc. The natural forces which formerly
impelled men to battle in this sanguinary manner have not entirely
ceased to act upon humanity ; they still act, and excite men to
certain antagonisms, which occupy the entire life of almost all

228 ASSIONMSNTS ON THE PARAGBAPH.

humankind, excepting only those who, possessing a superior moral
sense, refuse to become entangled in self-iuterested struggles, even
if this course of action costs them some trouble. The means of the
struggle have changed through the influence of civilization ; these
were formerly force and violence ; they are to-day fraud and astute-
ness. An immense number of thefts are committed every day, of
which the law takes no cognizance ; human cupidity finds means of
satisfying itself, even if it does not employ the sword and poison,
which sometimes makes one wonder, with horror, if all human
progress is not menaced with failure. This is the transformation
of savage criminality among civilized people. It is to-day a normal
condition of existence that this battle of astuteness has replaced
the war of the muscles. As long as the present social conditions
last, no human power will be able to prevent men from stealing
from each other, just as it is impossible to keep men living in a
state of barbarous anarchy from killing each other. All modern
humanity is imbued, to some extent, with evolutional crimi-
nality. Those who really form that criminality, which I call
evolutional, are the men who, endowed with a greater talent or
favored by a too prosperous fortune, push that battle of intrigue
and deceit to a monstrous excess, which makes it too great a danger
to all modern society. These only employ to a great extent the
means of enriching themselves that all the world uses on a small
scale. Their action, on account of the excessive development
which they give to the means of the struggle for existence, should
be considered as abnormal and, therefore, punishable ; while the
same means, applied on a small scale, are entirely normal, and,
although our moral sense feels them unworthy, remain unpunished.
Law would be powerless and even unjust to injure them. Those
who make use of the means that society has given them, without
annoying the social life more than others, are evidently only using
their rights. For the great evolutional criminals, it will not do to
trust too much to the effects of punishment ; they are the product
of our customs and will always be found so long as our customs
remain unchanged.

43. — (Section 30) — Rewrite the following paragraphs, so
varying the structure of the sentences as- to avoid the repeti-
tion of the conjunction and : —

ASSIGNMEyrS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 229

(a) Thucydides was a native of Athens, born of a wealthy
family, and favored with a fine education. He was so charmed at
hearing Herodotus read at the Games, that he determined to become
a historian. He was in command of an Athenian squadron of
seven ships at Thasos, 424 B.C., but by bad management he fell into
disgrace and became an exile for twenty years to escape death.
The subject of his history is the Peloponnesian War, and the sad
story of the falling glory of Athens. He saw the great importance
of this war from the first, and watched all its varying phases with
the greatest interest, intending to write its history. He spent
much time and care in collecting his material, and he has left us
one of the noblest histories in the world. His style is condensed,
and yet ornate, and with studied periods. He has been styled
''the historian of a common humanity, the teacher of abstract
political wisdom." He is fond of tracing events back to their
causes, and showing their probable results, and is the great philo-
sophic historian. Macaulay greatly admired him, and called the
seventh book of Thucydides the model volume of history. His
accounts abound in speeches made by the principal characters, and
he fills their mouths with his own grand thoughts and words. His
history extends to the twenty-first year of the war, and the last or
eighth book bears marks of having been left unfinished.

(b) The Greeks were the natural descendants of the heroes of
Homer, and it was no common blood that flowed in their veins.
They inherited a grand physical nature, and in the camp and
gymnasia cultivated every faculty of body and mind. They en-
joyed a wonderful climate, and the education of grand and beauti-
ful scenery. They were thoroughly religious in their belief and
disposition to worship, and their noblest faculties were always open
to grand inspirations. Every mountain, valley, and river was the
home of a god, and they believed that their deities were always
interested in human affairs.

These causes combined to make them a people of marked mental
activity. They had an intense love of the beautiful, the creative
faculty was largely developed, they had a universal desire to know
the reason and origin of things, and these forces directed that mental
activity to literary pursuits. Their poets and philosophers were
sure of an intelligent, appreciative audience, and the rewards of

230 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PABAGRAPB.

literary success were sure and abandaut. Besides all this, they were
blessed with political freedom, and in that atmosphere the mind
of man has always done its grandest work. But of all the external
influences that gave inspiration and character to their literature,
the great Annual Games were the most important. Here were
gathered the great historians and orators, poets and philosophers ;
and here, in the presence of the most cultivated audiences of the
world, they gave their literary productions.

(C) Pindar was the lyrist of Greece and of the world. Bom
three centuries after Homer, he shares with him the highest place
of honor. He was a Theban, born of wealthy family, and early and
carefully instructed in poetry and versification. He contended for
years at the games before he won the chief prizes. He was fortu-
nate in living in the golden period of Greek history, and having
the inspiration of great deeds and men. He travelled and lived
for years in the famous western colonies of Sicily and Magna
Graeca, and when he died at eighty years of age, he was honored
throughout Greece. He was a prolific writer, and we possess
forty-four of his poems entire, and the fragments of many others.
His great themes were freedom, national glory, and the worth of
man and manliness. He had a clear, intense faith in a future
state of rewards and punishments. His poems were written in the
Doric dialect. He was a perfect master of versification, and origi-
nated many new and beautiful forms of verse that have been used
ever since as models. His style is marked by beautiful imagery,
fine description, abundant local allusions, great power of condensed
expression, and many wise and brilliant sayings. He is one of the
most difficult of Greek authors to translate so as to preserve the
peculiarities of the original. He is but little read, and we find it
difficult to appreciate why this elegiac and lyric poetry were so
highly esteemed by the Greeks. But this is because we cannot
reproduce the circumstances under which they were sung. They
were written to be read or sung at the great games, or on the field
of victory, and in the presence of a most enthusiastic people.
These poems abound in allusions to places and men, and to the
beautiful religious traditions of the Greeks. Pindar generally
selected some heroic legend connected with the city and ancestry
of the victor at the games, and wove this, with his success, into a

ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH. 231

beautiful poem. We cannot supply the music, the scenic acces-
sories, the brilliant audience, the pride, the joy, and hence we can-
not appreciate the beauty and glory of this poetry.

44. — (Section 31) — Point out the subordinating expres-
sions of some of the paragraphs of Appendix A.

45. — {Section J2) ^Rewrite the paragraph from Macau-
lay on page 67, making each assertion a separate sentence.
Note any loss of unity. Combine these assertions differ-
ently and note the loss of meaning.

46. — (Section 32) — Examine and criticise the punctua-
tion of some of the paragraphs in Appendix A.

47. — (Sections 35-36) — Examine some of the more formal
paragraphs in Appendix A, and classify them as deductive
or inductive.

48. — (Sections 35-37) — Treat deductively some of the
topic-statements under Assignment 28 above. Treat some of
the same sentences as conclusions to be reached by the in-
ductive process.

49. — (Section 39) — Find three paragraphs of definition
in a magazine article or a scientific treatise.

50. — (Section 39) — Define, in a paragraph, one of the
following terms: 1. Democracy. 2. Arbitration.

3. Chiaro-oscuro. 4. Voltage. 5. Parallax. 6. Moraine.

51. — (Section 40) — Find three paragraphs of specific
instances in a book, magazine, or newspaper.

52. — (Section 40) — Write a paragraph in explanation of
one of the following terms, using specific instances:
1. Genius. 2. Sphere of influence. 3. Tidal wave.

4. Blank verse. 5. Balance of trade. 6. Veto power.

53. — (Section 41) — Find in a magazine or newspaper
three paragraphs in which illustration is used.

232 ASSIGNMENTS ON THE PARAGRAPH.

54. — (Section 41) — Write a paragraph in explanation of
one of the following terms, using an illustration, either real
or invented : 1. Personal equation. 2. Hypnosis. 3. Mar-
ginal utility. 4. Concert pitch. 5. Dual personality.
6. Perspective.

55. — (Section 42) — Find in a bpok or magazine three
paragraphs in which causes and effects are used.

56. — (Section 42) — Develop one of the topic-statements
in Assignment 24 by the method of cause and effect.

57. — (Section 44) — Find three paragraphs of incident
in a magazine or newspaper, biography or history.

58. — (Section 44) — Tell in one paragraph the best story
you know.

59. — (Section 45) — Find in a work of fiction three good
paragraphs of description.

60. — (Section 45) — Describe, in one paragraph, the house,
the room, the tree, the picture, the valley, the mountain, or
the street that you remember most vividly.

61. — (Section 46) — Find in a history, or a work of fic-
tion, three good portrait sketches.

62. — (Section 46) — Select from the pictures in this book
the face which most impresses you, and describe it in a
paragraph.

63. — (Section 47) — Find in works of biography, history,
or fiction three good character sketches.

64. — (Section 47) — Write a sketch of the most interest-
ing character that you have met.

65. — (Section 50) — Examine the introductory and con-
cluding paragraphs of three articles in recent magazines,
(such as Harper'* s, Scrtbn€r\% the Century, the Atlantic, the
North American Review^ the Nation, the Nineteenth Centiu^,

ASSIGNMENTS IN bESCRlPTION. 233

the Contemporary Review, the Fortnightly), and report upon
them. What method of introduction has the writer used
in each case ? What does the reader learn from the open-
ing paragraph?' What ideas are found in the concluding
paragraphs ?

66. — {Section SO) — Examine in the same way the intro-
ductory and concluding paragraphs of a scientific treatise,
of an oration, of a book review.

67. — {Section 51) — Make a study of the transitional and
directive paragraphs of a magazine article, of a history, of
one of Stevenson's essays.

68. — {Section 52) — Find the amplifying paragraphs in
one of Macaulay's essays, and point out in each case the
thought which is amplified and the reason for amplifying it.

B. THE WHOLE COMPOSITION.

Description.

1. — {Section 56) — What is the purpose of each of the
following descriptions ?

(a) The strength of these principal fa9ades [of the New York
Library] resides in the simple, clear, and thoroughly monumental
articulation of their parts. The central motive on the Fifth Avenue
side, the triple-arched portico, has a just degree of projection, and
the pillared section on either side, with its windows, is so designed
as to line and mass that, while sufficiently subordinated to the
portico aforesaid, it is also sufficiently emphasized for its own sake.
So, likewise, the comers have their proper accents, but do not un-
duly assert themselves. The relation of the length of the building
to its height is admirably fixed. It might be called a long, low
edifice, but the attics, looming up above the outer roof line, provide
the ueeded corrective. Outside the library, as within it, a grave
dignity rules, ornament being sparsely used and the little of it
that is introduced being handled with severe taste.

234 ASSIGNMENTS tN DESCRIPTION.

(b) Some time since I happened to be at Leeds, and having
been obliged to stay all night, I ordered that I should be called up
early in the morning. I was called up, and found it moonlight
and starlight, and it was a morning so cold that the teeth of a
strong, athletic man would chatter in his head. I drove in my
gig through the streets of Leeds, and I met nobody but two or
three watchmen. The shops were closed, and the windows dark ;
I saw nothing but the glimmerings of the watchmen's lanterns ;
all was still, save the sound of the watchmen's feet and my gig. I
arrived in the suburbs ; I heard a dismal sound — it fell like the
knell of death on my ear. It was the factory bell ringing : the
streets were instantly crowded. There W3re no strong hale men,
nor any lights. The parents were in bed, but their children had
risen, and were trudging through the cold to the factories. I
spoke to one who, with bread in his mouth, was hurrying forward,
for fear of being fined. I asked him where he was going? He
said to the mill. I asked him if he had said his prayers? He
answered. No, he had no time — and then he ran on. I pursued
my journey ; and I saw the sheep in the pastures, and the cattle
resting, for they had not risen to feed, much less to work. There
was no need of a law to protect them ; they are vested property.
It were better if British infants were the vested property of the
factory master ; then perhaps he might find an interest in using
them kindly. In an hour I met three able men going to their
employment. They were weavers, and did not need to go so
early as the factory children. But still the sun had not risen,
nor did I hear the cattle lowing, or the herds bleating. I went
on, and in a little while I heard the birds singing, and then the
cattle began to graze. Then I met the agricultural laborers, with
their implements gracing their brawny shoulders and athletic
frames. They were ruddy, healthy, and strong. Aye ! aye 1 said
I, this looks like England. They Twre not boys, nor dwarfs, but
men — freemen. Their offspring was not immured in a hellish
Bastille ; but either not risen, or else gambolling in the fields. In
another hour I met a dairymaid, with her milk-pail; it seemed
natural. I felt myself in a land where all might be happiness
and liberty; but when I turned my recollection to what I had
seen at Leeds — when, good God 1 I reflected that the poor, miser-
able, decrepit beings had been working there, in an overheated

ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION. 235

atmosphere, for full three hours, by gaslight and by starlight,
my heart sickened within me. I asked myself if Christianity, if
humanity, if liberty, required this sacrifice? and I resolved that
morning to do more for the factory child than I had yet done.

— Oastler.

(C) The old-fashioned low wainscoting went round the rooms
and up the staircase with carved balusters and shadowy angles,
landing halfway up at a broad window, with a swallow's nest below
the sill, and the blossom of an old pear tree showing across it in
late April, against the blue, below which the perfumed juice of
fallen fruit in autumn was so fresh. At the next turning came
the closet which held on its deep shelves the best china. Little
angel faces and reedy flutings stood out round the fireplace of the
children's room. And on the top of the house, above the large
attic, where the white mice ran in the twilight — an infinite, un-
explored wonderland of childish treasures, glass beads, empty
scent bottles still sweet, thrum of colored silks, among its lumber
— a flat space of roof, railed round, gave a view of the neighboring
steeples; for the house, as I said, stood near a great city, which
sent up heavenwards, over the twisting weather-vanes, not
seldom, its beds of rolling cloud and smoke, touched with storm or
sunshine. But the child of whom I am writing did not hate the fog,
because of the crimson lights which fell from it sometimes upon
the chimneys, and the whites which gleamed through its openings,
on summer mornings, on turret or pavement. For it is false to
suppose that a child's sense of beauty is dependent on any choice-
ness, or special fineness, in the objects which present themselves
to it, though this indeed comes to be the rule with most of us
in later life ; earlier, in some degree, we see inwardly ; and the
child finds for itself, and with unstinted delight, a difference for
the sense, in those whites and reds through the smoke on very homely
buildings, and in the gold of the dandelions at the road-side, just
beyond the houses, where not a handful of earth is virgin and un-
touched, in the lack of better ministries to its desire of beauty.

— Pater : The Child in the House,

2. — (Section 57) — Discover the point of view in each of
the following selections. If the point of view shifts^ trace

236 ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION.

the path which it pursues, and determine whether the
writer has given due warning of each change.

(t) The first point one would naturally visit in Samarkand is
the famous Gur Ameer, or tomb of Tamerlane, which stands in a
pretty little park on the edge of the Russian settlement. A native
policeman receives you at the gate and conducts you through the
grounds, giving you temporarily into the hands of a molla, or
priest, in the tomb itself. There are five of these mollas who have
charge of the tomb and are paid a certain sum per annum by the
government. You pass a dilapidated archway — covered in part by
beautiful tiles — lined with beggars, priestly or otherwise, and the
tomb of the great conqueror stands before you. It is built of
small, burnt bricks and has very massive walls. Like the other
historic remains of Samarkand, it is quite in the Persian style of
architecture. The apex of the dome is about one hundred and
fifty feet from the ground. As I walked along the neatly gravelled
paths, under beautiful shade-trees covered with sweet-smelling
blossoms, and filled with pretty song-birds, the bright sun gayly il-
luminating the enamelled surface of the tomb, it was difficult to
realize that so famous and stern a warrior lay buried below one's
feet. The dome, whose outline is very graceful, is spherical, and
its surface is fluted or ridged, but its top has lost all its glazed
bricks and has been restored in plaster by the Russians. This
white plaster is, of course, fatal to a fine general effect, and you
accept its presence only as a cheap method of preserving the re-
mainder of the work from destruction.

— Frank Vincent : Samarkand and Bokhara.

(b) We have returned from visiting the glacier of Mon tan vert,
or, as it is called, the Sea of Ice, a scene in truth of dizzying won-
der. The path that winds to it along the side of a mountain, now
clothed with pines, now intersected with snowy hollows, is wide
and steep. The cabin of Montanvert is three leagues from Cha-
niouni, half of which distance is performed on mules, not so sure-
footed but that on the first day the one which I rode fell in what
the guides call a mauvais pas, so that I narrowly escaped being pre-
cipitated down the mountain. We passed over a hollow covered
with snow, down which vast stones are accustomed to roll. One
had fallen the preceding day, a little after we had returned ; our

A88IGIfMENT8 IN DESCRIPTION. 237

guides desired us to pass quickly, for it is said that sometimes the
least sound will accelerate their descent. We arived at Moutan-
vert, however, safe.

On all sides precipitous mountains, the abodes of unrelenting
frost, surround this vale : their sides are banked up with ice and
snow, broken, heaped high, and exhibiting terrific chasms. The
summits are sharp and naked pinnacles, whose overhanging steep-
ness will not even permit snow to rest upon them. Lines of daz-
zling ice occupy here and there their perpendicular rifts, and
shine through the driving vapors with inexpressible brilliance;
they pierce the clouds, like things not belonging to this earth.
The vale itself is filled with a mass of undulating ice, and has an
ascent sufficiently gradual even to the remotest abysses of these
horrible deserts. It is only half a league (about two miles) in
breadth, and seems much less. It exhibits an appearance as if
frost had suddenly bound up the waves and whirlpools of a mighty
torrent. We walked some distance upon its surface. The*waves
are elevated about twelve or fifteen feet from the surface of the
mass, which is intersected by long gaps of unfathomable depths,
the ice of whose sides is more beautifully azure than the sky. In
these regions everything changes, and is in motion. This vast
mass of ice has one general progress, which ceases neither
day nor night; it breaks and bursts forever: some undulations
sink while others rise ; it is never the same. The echo of rocks,
or of the ice and snow which fall from their overhanging preci-
pices, or roll from their aerial summits, scarcely ceases for one
moment. One would think that Mont Blanc, like the god of the
Stoics, was a vast animal, and that the frozen blood forever cir-
culated through his stony veins. — Shelley : Letters,

3. — (Sections $8-60) — Analyze the following descrip-
tionSj and make an outline of each which will show the
sequence and grouping of the details : —

(a) Up to about a quarter-past five o'clock the darkness is
complete ; but about that time a few cries of birds begin to break
the silence of night, perhaps indicating that signs of dawn are
perceptible in the eastern horizon. A little later the melancholy
voices of the goatsuckers are heard, varied croaking^ of frogs, the
glaintiye whistle. of mountain thrushes, and strange cries of birds.

238 ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION.

or mammals peculiar to each locality. About half-past five the
first glimmer of light becomes perceptible; it slowly becomes
lighter, and then increases so rapidly that at about a quarter to
six it seems full daylight. For the next quarter of an hour this
changes very little in character; when, suddenly, the sun*s rim
appears above the horizon, decking the dew-laden foliage with
glittering gems, sending gleams of golden light far into the woods,
and waking up all nature to life and activity. Birds chirp and
flutter about, parrots scream, monkeys chatter, bees hum among
the flowers, and gorgeous butterflies flutter lazily along or sit with
full expanded wings exposed to the warm and invigorating rays.
The first hour of morning in the equatorial regions possesses a
charm and a beauty that can never be forgotten. All nature
seems refreshed and strengthened by the coolness and moisture
of the past night, new leaves 'and buds unfold almost before the
eye, and fresh shoots may often be observed to have grown many
inches since the preceding day. The temperature is the most
delicious conceivable. The slight chill of early dawn, which
was itself agreeable, is succeeded by an invigorating warmth ;
and the intense sunshine lights up the glorious vegetation of
the tropics, and realizes all that the magic art of the painter or the
glowing words of the poet have pictured as their ideals of terres-
trial beauty.

(b) Your first glimpse of a sink-box will not inspire you with
confidence. These boxes are constructed on the principle of Erics-
son's monitor, to show as little above the water as possible. Imag-
ine a board platform, ten feet long by six feet wide, with a coffin
let into the centre until it is flush with the deck, and you will have
a very coi-rect notion of a sink-box. Around the edge of the plat-
form there is a framework, over which canvas is stretched, to mini-
mize the wash of the waves over the floating structure. Decoys
are placed in an artistic arrangement, known to your guide, on the
platform and on the canvas outworks, as well as grouped on the
water, about twenty yards in front of the box. The sink-box is
simply an appliance, which, by placing the gunner below the sur-
face of the water, prevents the ducks from seeing him until the
last moment. Lying flat on your back in the box, you are very
effectually hidden from a low-flying bird, until it arrives in your

ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCHIPTtON. 23fl

immediate vicinity. The decoys by which you are surrounded
serve the double purpose of attracting ducks in your direction, and
also of assisting to impress upon approaching birds the illusion
that there is no gunner there, and, consequently, no danger to be
expected.

(c) At the height of two miles, the sun shines with a fierce
intensity unknown below where the dust and the denser air scat-
ter the rays which, thus diffused, lose their intensity while illu-
mining every nook and corner of our houses. At heights exceed-
ing five miles, this diffused light is mostly gone and the sun shines
a glowing ball, sharply outlined in a sky of which the blue is so
dark as to approach blackness. At the outer limits of the atmos-
phere, the sun would appear a brilliant star of massive size among
other stars ; and if one stepped from its burning rays into shadow
he would enter Egyptian darkness. At the height of a mile and
a half, we found it necessary to shelter our faces to prevent sun-
burn, although the air around us was but little warmer than that
of the previous night, being about forty-five degrees. As the after-
noon wore on and the balloon began to cool and sink, we were
obliged to throw out much sand, casting it away a scoopful at a
time, and just after sunset, it was even necessary to empty two or
three bags at once. — H. H. Clayton : Atlantic, March, 1908.

(d) Just under our windows — but far under, for we were in
the fourth story — was a wide stone terrace, old, moss-grown,
balustraded with marble, from which you descended by two curv-
ing flights of marble steps into the garden. There, in the early
March weather, which succeeded a wind-storm of three days, the
sun fell like a shining silence, amidst which the bent figure of an
old gardener stirred, noiselessly turning up the earth. In the ut-
most distance the snow-covered Apennines glistened against a
milky white sky growing pale-blue above ; the nearer hills were
purplish ; nearer yet were green fields, gray olive orchards, red
ploughed land, and black cypress-clumps about the villas with
which the whole prospect was thickly sown. Then the city houses
outside the wall began, and then came the beautiful red brick city
wall, wandering wide over the levels and heights and hollows, and
within it that sunny silence of a garden. While I once stood at
the open window looking, brimful of content, tingling with it, a

240 ASSIGNMENTS IN DESChlPtldff.

bugler came up the road without the wall, and gayly, bravely,
sbunded a gallant /an/are j purely, as it seemed, for love of it and
pleasure in it. -^ How el Is : Tuscan Cities*

(e) Afar, and marvellously clear cut in their hundred miles of
distance, loomed a range of lofty mountains; the fierce wind was
blowing out a glorious white mist which veiled with falling and
ascending draperies of vapor the greater bulk of the tawny mass
on the right; but so marvellously brilliant was the atmosphere
through which the gale was rushing, the sense of distance vanished.
The huge steep lifting and disappearing in its splendor of mist,
drew close ; I saw the curves of the cloof s, every wrinkle of broken
rock, and patches of bush, though it was all miles off and high in
air. The white houses spread like toys of ivory to the base, and
the wide waters of the bay, full of the gleams of the brushing west-
erly air, and foaming under the shrieking lash of the gale where
the bi-east of blue rounded to the town, were framed by a spar-
kling, snow-white beach, past which the swelling country showed in
reds and greens till the sight died upon the phantom blue of dis-
tant heights. — W. C. Russell : A Three-stranded Yarn,

(f ) They had now come to the moor's edge, and were looking
down on the amphitheatre which formed the domain of Ravenshoe.
Far and wide the tranquil sea, vast, dim, and gray, flooded bay
and headland, cave and islet. Beneath their feet slept the winter
woodlands ; from whose brown bosom rose the old house, many-
gabled, throwing aloft from its chimneys hospitable columns of
smoke, which hung in the still autumn air, and made a hazy cloud
on the hillside. Everything was so quiet that they could hear the
gentle whisper of the ground-swell, and the voices of the children
at play upon the beach, and the dogs barking in the kennels.

— Kingsley : Ravenshoe, chap. xi.

4. — (Sections SS-60) — Mr. W. N. Lettsom, a S]feat&-
spearean critic, says of the following passage : " It is pre-
posterous to speak of the facts of a chariot (such as the
wagon-spokes and cover) before mentioning a chariot itself.'*

Discuss the order of the details in the light of this
criticism.

ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION. 241

She comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep ;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners* legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams ;
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ;
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat.
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid ;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut.
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub.
Time out of mind the fairies' coach makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love ;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court* sies straight ;
O'er lawyers* fingers, who straight dream on fees.

— Romeo and Juliet, I, iv.

5. — (Sections SS-60) — Determine whether Shakespeare
followed the same order in other descriptive passages, such
as the following : —

Come on, sir ; here's the place ; stand still. How fearful

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low I

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air

Show scarce so gross as beetles : halfway down

Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade I

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head :

The fishermen, that walk upon the beach.

Appear like mice ; and yond tall anchoring bark,

Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy

Almost too small for sight : the murmuring surge,

That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes.

Cannot be heard so high. 1*11 look no more ;

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight

Topple down headlong. — Kin(^ Lear, IV, vi,

242 ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION.

6. — {Section 60) — Find in a recent novel or short story
three good specimens of description in which the funda-
mental image is used.

7. — (Section 60) — Discover a fundamental image which
may be used effectively in describing one of the following
objects. Write the description. 1. The full moon. 2. An
elm tree. 3. An old-fashioned garment. 4. The interior of
a theatre or other public building. 5. A high-jumper in
mid-air. 6. An extinct animal.

8. — (Section 61) — Is the scene described in the follow-
ing paragraph made clear to you in all particulars ? If not,
point out wherein it is obscure, and why. Rewrite it in ac-
cordance with your own ideas.

The night that followed was breathless and beautiful. In the
southeast, under the moon, the water stretched in a stainless field
of light, flashing but still as a sheet of looking-glass ; our sails
glowed blandly Uke starlight itself as they rose one above another
into the whitened gloom in whose clear profound many meteors
were darting, leaving a smoke of spangles for all the world like
sky-rockets under the large, trembling stars. Lovely they were ;
but for the moon I think many had studded the water with points
of light to ride and widen upon the black and noiseless lift of
swell, thick and sluggish as though it were oil that ran, and
scarcely putting three moons* breadth of motion into our mast-
heads, though it sweetened the air with the rain of dew it softly
beat out of the canvas. — W. C. Russell : A Three-stranded Yam.

9. — (Section 62) — Find three specimens of effective de-
scription in some piece of fiction which you are reading
for the first time. Make a concise statement of the reason
why each selection is judged to be good.

10. — (Section 62) — Find three specimens of poetical
description, and give reasons for their effectiveness.

11. — (Section 62) — Find three specimens of poetry or
prose, describing (a) flowers, or (h) fruits, or (c) trees, op

ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION. 243

(d) the appearance of the sea, or (e) clouds, or (/) faces,
or (g) the sky, or (fi) the sun, or (i) the moon, or (J) birds,
or (&) mountains, or (?) rivers, or (m) rain, or (n) snow, or
(o) fire.

12. — (Section 62) — Find specimens of poetry or prose,
describing (a) the sound of the human voice, or (6) the song
of birds, or (c) the cries of animals, or (d) the sound of
waves on the shore, or (e) the sound of the wind, ov {f) the
sound of a waterfall, or (gr) the sound of music, or {h) the
sounds made by insects.

13. — (Section 62) — Describe briefly and as vividly as
you can, (a) the appearance of the surface of a lake when a
fine rain is falling, (h) a spray of ivy against a wall, (c) the
face of an old man, (d) a statue, (e) an autumn leaf, (f) a
poplar tree when the wind is blowing, (g) frost on the side-
walk, (Ji) a lichen, {%) a Persian rug, (J) a ripe grape, (k) a
soap-bubble the instant before it bursts, (I) a landscape
seen through the heated air risfng from a fire, (m) a flock
of wild geese flying south, (n) a squirrel clinging to a tree.
The description may be written as if it were part of a
narrative.

14. — (Section 62) — Describe briefly and as vividly as you
can, (a) the cry of the tree-toads, (h) the call of the quail,
(c) the chirp of the katydid, (d) the lowing of a cow, (e)
the shriek of a parrot, (f) the hooting of an owl, (g) the
song of the meadow-lark, (li) the song of the mocking-bird,
(i) the sound of a fire-bell, (J) the sound of clocks striking
one at night in a city, (k) the sound of a threshing-machine
at full speed, (I) the sound of rain on the roof, (m) the sound
of wind in the telegraph wires, (n) the sound of wind blow-
ing through the keyhole, (o) the sound of the deepest tones
of an organ, (p) the sound of an automobile passing rapidly.

The description may be written as if it were part of a
narrative.

244

ASSIGNMENTS IN DESCRIPTION.

15. — {Section 62) — (a) Write a brief description of a
telephone transmitter as it might appear to a man who was
greatly exasperated by its failure to work in an emergency.

(b) Describe some natural object as seen first at a time
of depression, disappointment, or grief, then as it is seen in
a joyful mood.

(o) Describe the scene in Olde's Before Sunrise (Figure 1)

FlQXTBE 1.

as it would appear to some one who, emerging from the edge
of a neighboring wood, came upon it unexpectedly.

(d) Compare the two representations of an ocean wave in
Hokusai's The Wave, and Aivazowski's The Storm (Figures
2 and 3).

(e) Describe (1) the appearance of a recitation room as

Figure 2.

Figure 3.

246

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

seen for an instant through a partly opened door, or (2) the
appearance of the spectators at a foot-ball game at the mo-
ment of greatest suspense.

(f) Describe the in-
terior of a reading
room in the evening.

(g) Describe the
tower of a church as
it appears when the
observer approaches it
from a distance.

(h) Describe a land-
scape as it would ap-
pear (1) if it were
gradually disclosed to
the observer by the
dispersion of a dense
fog, or (2) if one were
looking over the shoul-
der of a painter who
was making a rapid
sketch of it in colors, or (3) if one were watching the de-
velopment of a negative, or (4) if one were observing the
cleaning of an old, dirt-colored oil painting from which the
outlines of the valley emerged bit by bit.

(i) Portray the appearance of a recitation room at the
instant when the class is dismissed. Write as if describing
an instantaneous photograph of the scene.

(j) Describe the face of The Laughing Boy by Velasquez
(Figure 4).

Narration.

1. — (Sections 66-68) — Study the following specimens of
simple narrative. Note any violations of unity, sequence,
or climax.

Figure 4.

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION. 247

(a) If we follow a paragraph of news matter or even an adver-
tisement from the time it is written until it is placed before the
reader, we can get a comprehensive idea of the truly wonderful
part that mechanism may play in this industry. As fast as the
mind of the reporter or editor frames a sentence it is placed upon
the paper by the typewriter, every desk containing a machine by
which copy can be finished far more rapidly than with the pen or
pencil and, of course, far more legibly. The pneumatic tube takes
sheet after sheet as revised by the editor and places it before the
foreman in the composing-room above. The battery of typeset-
ting machines is provided with double as well as single magazines
of type-formers, so that one machine may not only set the body
of the paragraph, but the head-lines, although a separate machine is ,
designed exclusively for headings. Thus hand composition has
been reduced to such a small amount that an entire page of eight
columns, including all the display advertising, may contain less
than a half-column set by actual hand labor. When it is stated
that each of these motor-driven typesetters averages at least 6000
ems an hour compared with less than 5000 ems — the best record
in most composing-rooms of ^ the larger American dailies — an
idea of the time-saving in composition alone can be gained, but
machinery also enters largely into the making of the matrix. As
fast as the form is made up, it is shoved on the bed of an impres-
sion-moulder that is actuated by a two-and-one-half-horse-power
motor. One movement of the massive mould-roller over the sheet
of papier-mache placed on the form stamps the type into its soft,
moist surface. As the moulder is next to the form -tables, the steam-
tables are also in line with the roll, so that the form and matrix
are placed on a table in a few seconds to be subjected to a steam
pressure of eighty pounds, which partially removes the moisture.
As this treatment occupies four minutes, enough tables are pro-
vided to press all of the matrices which can be moulded in that
time. At the end of the steam-tables, the circular matrix-roaster
revolved by a one-quarter-horse-power motor receives the matrices
as fast as removed from the tables. Its centrifugal motion com-
pletely dries the matrix in fifteen seconds, with heat produced by
gas.

The matrices travel to the stereotyping-room in the basement,
over a chute. While the stereotype is being made, the plate is

248 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

trimmed by electrically driven tools, so that the operation of the
casting-boxes, the steam-tables, the making up of the forms, and
the transfer of the form-tables are the only hand processes em-
ployed. A plate may be locked on the press-bed in less than eight
minutes after the form is completed, in which time the matrix has
been moulded, pressed, dried, sent to the stereotype department, and
cast.

To pursue the career of the paragraph we have been following,
a stereotype containing it is fastened with the other plates of the
paper on each of a series of four quadruple presses of the Hoe type.
In an hour, if these have been running continuously, 100,000 news-
papers containing it have not only been printed and finished, but
taken from the press-room and most of them placed in wrappers for
mailing or in the hands of carriers for distribution. In other
words, an edition of this size is not only produced, but delivered
to the centre of distribution in the time mentioned. Passing over
the question of the modern quadruple press, which, as the reader
knows, not only prints but cuts and folds, the way in which the
delivery is made is worth noting. Extending past the end of each
press is an endless conveyer moving at the rate of 100 feet a
minute. As the papers fall upon the delivery board of a press the
" fly boy " with one motion of his arms places them on the conveyer
as fast as they accumulate. To the end of the press-room moves
the conveyer, then up a vertical conduit to the street floor, where
its freight is removed, counted, and distributed to carriers and
wagons as fast as the papers emerge through the chute.

(b) I went down to the shop and opened the shutters. There
was little custom before breakfast, so I lounged about behind the
counter, pulling open drawers of spices and reading the labels on
bottles and jars. After all, I thought, there are more disagree-
able vocations in the world than that of grocer, — bricklaying, for
instance. I determined to do my share of the work faithfully,
whether I liked it or not. I was in my nineteenth year, and, at
the worst, would be my own master at twenty-one.

My uncle, finding that I wrote a neat hand and«was a good
arithmetician, gradually initiated me into the mysteries of day-
book and ledger. I also assisted in waiting on the customers, and
in a few days became sufficiently expert at sliding sugar or
coffee out of the scoop, so as to turn the scale by the weight of a

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION. 249

gl'ain or single bean, settling the contents in paper bags, and tying
them squarely and compactly. My uncle was too shrewd a busi-
ness man to let me learn at the expense of customers : I was re-
quired to cover the counter with packages of various weights, the
contents of which were afterwards returned to the appropriate
bins or barrels. Thus, while I was working off my awkwardness,
the grocery presented an air of unusual patronage to its innocent
visitors.

Many of our customers were farmers of the vicinity, who
brought their eggs, butter, and cheese to exchange for groceries.
This was a profitable part of the business, as we gained both in
buying and selling. There was a great demand among these
people for patent medicines, which formed a very important part
of my uncle's stock. He discovered in an incredibly short time
from what neighborhood a new customer came, and immediately
gave an account of the relief which somebody, living in an oppo-
site direction, had derived from the use of certain pills or plasters.

" Weakness o* the back, eh ! " he would say to some melancholy-
faced countryman; "our Balm of Gilead's the stuff for that.
Only three levies a bottle; rub it in with flannel, night and
mornin'. Mr. Hempson — you know him p'r'aps, down on Poplar
Neck? — was bent double with the rheuraatiz, and two bottles
made him as straight as I am. Better take some of the Peruvian
Preventive, while you are about it, ma'am, — keeps off chills and
fevers. Deacon Dingery sent all the way down from Port Clinton
t'other day for some ; they don't keep it there. Lives in a ma'shy
place, right onto the river, and they ha'n't had a chill in the family
since they use 'em. I reckon we've sold wheelbarra loads."

(o) One of Thomas Lincoln's friends owned a ferry-boat on the
Ohio River. It was nothing but a small rowboat, and would
carry only three or four people at a time. This man wanted to
employ some one to take care of his boat and to ferry people across
the river.

Thomas Lincoln was in need of money; and so he arranged
with his friend for Abraham to do this work. The wages of the
young man were to be $2.50 a week. But all the money was to be
his father's.

One day two strangers came to the landing. They wanted to
take passage on a steamboat that was coming down the river.

250 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

The ferry-boy signalled to the steamboat and it stopped in mid-
stream. Then the boy rowed out with the two passengers, and
they were taken on board.

Just as he was turning towards the shore again, each of the
strangers tossed a half-dollar into his boat. He picked the silver
up and looked at it. Ah, how rich he felt ! He had never had so
much money at one time. And he had gotten all for a few
minutes' labor !

When winter came on, there were fewer people who wanted to
cross the river. So, at last, the ferry-boat was tied up, and
Abraham Lincoln went back to his father's home.

2. — (Sections 66-68) — (a) Having found in a history,
biography, or work of fiction a specimen of simple narra-
tive, transcribe it accurately, and write a criticism of it.

(b) Write a simple narrative on one of the following sub-,
jects : 1. Building a house of cement. 2. A high school
commencement. 3. My first day at college. 4. Buying a
book. 5. The chronicle of a restful summer. 6. The antics
of a squirrel (or other animal). 7. What happened at the
concert. 8. A little ride on the trolley. 9. Practising my
hobby.

3. — (Section 69) — Point out the elements of the narrative
written for the preceding assignment.

4. — (Section 71) — Find a complex narrative in a current
magazine and analyze it into its elements.

5. — (Section 72) — Find an obstacle or obstacles by means
of which each of the following simple narratives can be
turned into a complex narrative. Outline fully one of the
plots and write the narrative, making such changes as may
be necessary in the characters and events.

(a) With hurried steps I bent my course in the direction of
some lofty ground; 1 at length found piyself on a high road, lead-
ing over wide and arid downs; following the road for some miles
without seeing anything remarkable, I supposed at length that I

ASSIGNMENTS IN NABBATION. 251

had taken the wrong path, and wended on slowly and disconso>
lately for some time, till, having nearly surmounted a steep hill, I
knew at once, from certain appearances, that I was near the ob-
ject of my search. Turning to my right near the brow of the hill,
I proceeded along a path which brought me to a causeway leading
over a deep ravine, and connecting the hill with another which
had once formed part of it, for the ravine was evidently the work
of art. I passed over the causeway, and found myself in a kind of
gateway which admitted me into a square space of many acres,
surrounded on all sides by mounds or ramparts of earth. Though
I had never been in such a place before, I knew that I stood within
the precincts of what had been a Roman encampment, and one
probably of the largest size, for many thousand warriors might have
found room to perform their evolutions in that space, in which
corn was now growing, the green ears waving in the morning
wind.

After I had gazed about the space for a time, standing in the
gateway formed by the mounds, I clambered up the mound to the
left hand, and on the top of that mound I found myself at a great
altitude ; beneath, at the distance of a mile, was a fair old city,
situated amongst verdant meadows, watered with streams, and
from the heart of that old city, from amidst mighty trees, I be-
held towering to the sky the finest spire in the world.

After I had looked from the Roman rampart for a long time, I
hurried away, and, retracing ray steps along the causeway, re-
gained the road, and, passing over the brow of the hill, descended
to the city of the spire. — Borrow : Lavengro, chap. Ixi.

(b) We dropped anchor not far from the mole. As we ex-
pected every moment to hear the evening gun, after which no per-
son is permitted to enter the town, I was in trepidation lest I should
be obliged to pass the night on board the dirty Catalan steamer,
which, as I had no occasion to proceed farther in her, I was in
great haste to quit. A boat now drew nigh, with two individuals
at the stern, one of whom, standing up, demanded, in an authori-
tative voice, the name of the vessel, her destination and cargo.
Upon being answered, they came on board. After some conversa-
tion with the captain, they were about to depart, when I inquired
whether I could accompany them on shore. The person I addressed
was a tall young man, with a fustian frock-coat. He had a long

252 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

face, long nose, and wide mouth, with large restless eyes. There
was a grin on his countenance which seemed permanent, and, had
it not been for his bronzed complexion, I should have declared
him to be a cockney, and nothing else. He was, however, no such
thing, but what is called a rock lizard, that isj a person bom at
Gibraltar of English parents. Upon hearing my question, which
was in Spanish, he grinned more than ever, and inquired, in a
strange accent, whether I was a son of Gibraltar. I replied that I
had not that honor but that I was a British subject. Whereupon
he said that he should make no difficulty in taking me ashore.
We entered the boat, which was rapidly rowed toward the land by
four Genoese sailors. My two companions chattered in their strange
Spanish, he of the fustian occasionally turning his countenance
full npon me, the last grin appeared ever more hideous than the
preceding ones. We soon reached the quay, where my name was
noted down by a person who demanded my passport, and I was then
permitted to advance. — Borrow : The Bible in Spain, chap. li.

6. — (Section 72) — Finding a good short story in a recent
magazine, analyze the plot and determine the precise nature
of the obstacle.

7. — (Sections 74-76) — Study the beginning, climax, and
conclusion of one of the stories in Appendix B.

8. — (Section 77) — Selecting the story which you like
best, examine the motives of the characters. Are all of their
acts properly accounted for ?

9. — (Section 78) — Study the means of suspense in one
of Dickens's novels. Is it at any point carried too far ?

10. — (Section 78) — Kead Chapter X of James Lane
Allen's The Choir Invisible, and notice how the action is
delayed in the 5th to the 10th paragraphs. Is the suspense
overdone? What ideas are found in these suspensive
paragraphs ? Make a complete outline of the chapter.

11. — Use the following outline as the basis of a narra-
tive : At a certain college a competitive examination for a

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION. 253

valuable prize is soon to be held. The hero of the story
is anxious to win, for besides being ambitious for the dis-
tinction he is in great need of money. By accident he
learns that the . examination questions are in a desk in a
certain recitation room. He gains admission to the room,
but as lie is about to open the desk his conscience is
aroused in some way (find a good, unhackneyed, unsenti-
mental motive), and he puts the temptation aside. As he
starts to leave the room, however, he hears a key turn in
the lock, and in an agony of remorse and shame awaits the
entrance of the instructor. (Complete the story.)

12. — Use the following outline as the basis of a narrar
tive : An old farmer who has a son at college di'ops in upon
the latter unexpectedly. The son, ashamed of the old gen-
tleman's uncultivated speech and manners and ill-fitting
clothes, uses all his ingenuity to keep his father in-doors.
The father, however, is anxious to see the buildings and the
classes and finally announces his intention of calling upon
the President. The son tries in vain to dissuade him, and
as a last desperate recotrse assures him that the President
is dangerously ill. (Complete the story.)

13. — Choosing one of the following subjects, supply the
characters, outline the plot, and write the narrative : —

1. Having my own way, and the results of it.

2. A conspiracy that failed.

3. Locked in.

4. How was elected class president.

5. How the game was won.

6. Kesults of a misunderstanding.

7. The mistake in my record.

8. A delayed letter.

9. The mystery of my chum.

10. Why does not elect any more courses in .

11. Trying to recover a letter mailed to the wrong person.

254 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

12. A psychological experiment.

13. Keeping a secret.

14. The remarkable invention of my friend .

15. A quarrel with the wrong man.

16. Correcting a bad habit.

17. Why was not graduated.

18. A fatal success.

19. Why we moved.

20. Testing a superstition.

14. — Choosing one of the following • skeleton plots, sup-
ply appropriate characters and incidents and write the
narrative : —

1. A threatened danger averted.

2. Struggle to secure some prize. Success when failure

seems inevitable.

3. Successive obstacles. As fast as one is removed, an-

other takes its place.

4. Effort to conceal a fault or weakness brings it into

prominence.
6. Unexpected revelation of character in an emergency.

6. Extraordinary exhibition of skill, strength, etc.

7. An object attained after long effort turns out to be of

little worth.

8. A man in striving for some desired object sacrifices

a greater good.

9. Hard struggle to obtain what was all the time in one's

possession.

10. An apparently useless trait of character becomes of

value in an emergency.

11. A single misstep spoils a long-continued work.

15, — Write the story outlined in the following para-
graph, giving the words used by the parents and by Pas-
teur, and one of the letters written by Pasteur, and the
reply to it : —

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION. 255

On the morning of the 4th of July, 1885, a little boy on his way
to school in a village in Alsace was attacked and severely bitten
by a rabid dog. A physician cauterized the wounds with carbolic
acid and advised the parents to take the child to Paris, where, as
he said, was the only man who could do anything for him : he
lived in the Rue cTUlm and his name was Pasteur. The advice
was followed, and on the morning of the 6th of July the mother
and child presented thenjselves at the laboratory. Pasteur, deeply
moved by the distress of the parent and strong in the confidence
his experiments had created, asked the advice of two professors in
the School of Medicine who were familiar with his investigations.
Both approved of the attempt, and the lad received his first injec-
tion the same day. On each succeeding day another and more
virulent inoculation was made ; and as the danger, if danger there
were, was thus daily increasing, so increased likewise the anxiety of
Pasteur. His days were agitated, his nights sleepless, and even
long after the treatment had ended and the child had returned to
his home, Pasteur wrote to him every week for news of his well-
being.

16. — Transfer the scene of the following story to this
country, making such changes in characters, setting, and
motives as may be necessary : —

A native had made a profitable deal in goats, which had been
taken by him to Jaffa and sold. He had cleared something like
two thousand medjidies, and one of his neighbors saw the money
paid to him in Jaffa.

When the two men returned, the second one went to the kaima-
kam (head man) and said that he had seen one thousand medji-
dies paid to the goat-keeper. If some charge were trumped up
against the goat-keeper, the informing neighbor went on to sug-
gest, he would visit him in prison and get him to disgorge the coin,
trusting to the generosity of the kaimakam for a reward.

The goat-keeper was immediately thrown into prison on the
charge of having committed a murder in the mountains some time
before.

He was naturally panic-stricken. After he had spent a week in
jail, the neighbor was allowed to visit him and tender him advice.

256 ASStOl^MtJNTS IK KAttRATlon.

The neighbor said that the kaimakaiii had complete proof regard-
ing the murder, but he himself had learned that if two thousand
medjidies were paid to the kaimakam, the prisoner would be
released.

The accused man swore that he had no such sum at his dis-
posal, and the neighbor, with a sigh, recommended him in that
case to commend his soul to Allah, for his execution would be only
a matter of days.

The doomed man then urged his supposed friend to remain
with him, and finally told him where the two thousand medjidies
were concealed. The traitor took the money, kept half of it and
gave the other half to the kaimakam, who returned to the inform-
ant fifty medjidies, or thereabouts.

The ruined man was then released, and went to the kaimakam,
hoping to get back part of the money. Being a liar also, he swore
that he had given the neighbor three thousand medjidies.

The kaimakam was naturally indignant, seeing he had received
but a third of the supposed haul, and promptly put the conspirator
in prison for the same murder of which the first man had for-
merly been accused. Before the informant got out of jail he had
to return the two thousand medjidies he had stolen from the goat-
keeper, and also to collect another thousand medjidies of his own
to bestow upon the kaimakam. So he was one thousand medjidies
worse off than before he meditated his treacherous design.

17. — Tell the story of "Paper Watts" (§ 75) from the
minister's point of view. Dwell upon the events before
and after the catastrophe and reduce all that is told by
Barrie to two or three sentences.

18. — Narrate the story of a strike as told by a walking
delegate.

19. — Write a story which will amuse and interest a
child eight years old. It should be clear and simple, though
not affectedly so, and should have plenty of life and move-
ment. An interesting type of plot for this purpose is that
in which a child, trying to attain some object on which he

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

257

has set his heart, encounters a series of obstacles, a new
obstacle arising as often as the old one is overcome.

20. — The following paragrapt is taken from a local
paper. Point out its defects as narrative. Then rewrite
it at some length, fill-
ing out the missing
details from imagina-
tion ; —

A funny scene on Ex-
change Place Saturday
night was a man driv-
ing a team hitched to a
big sleigh and dragging
a horse and carriage
backwards. Soon the
horse fell down or was
pulled over backwards,
then some one stopped
the team. Nobody
seemed to know how the
sleigh hitched onto the
carriage wheel, but a
broken tie strap showed
that the horse had been
hitched a short distance
from where the man was
discovered dragging him
away.

21. — Write the
story suggested by
Morot's Bravo Toro
(Figure 5). The scene
represented in the picture should form, as it were, a cross-
section (or, to change the figure, a snap-shot) of some part
of the narrative.

Figure 5.

268 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

22. — Complete the following narrative : —

Mr. Watson had spent a night with his party on the mountain,
and at noon on the following day was engaged in exploring the
southern lava stream which finds its way down the side of the
volcano. With no thought of danger he wandered entirely away
from his friends and the guides.

Coming to the broad lava stream, he sat down under the shelter
of a promontory of rocks, and gazed upon the great slow river of
fire flowing before him. It followed a straight course down the
mountain, until, at some distance below, it entered a thicket of
trees which seemed, as he watched it through the grass, to have
remarkable powers of resisting combustion from the lava.

He continued this until almost nightfall, when he started to
return to camp. As he returned, leaving the lava stream at his
back, he saw another stream before him. He thought at first that
he had been gazing so long at the molten river that it had caused
him to see lava in whatever direction he looked, and he walked on,
expecting to find hard ground still beneath his feet. But he soon
perceived that he was between two lava streams, one of which cut
him off from the camp.

What had happened was this : While Mr. Watson had been
sitting beneath the rock, the stream of lava had widened. The
rock that sheltered him had divided it, and it was now flowing
down to his left as well as to his right.

Then it occurred to him that he could go down the stream, and
doubtless get around the head of the new one, and so escape. But
before he had gone far he discovered that the new stream united
with the old a short distance farther down the mountain.

Mr. Watson was now, therefore, on an island of solid ground,
with a river of fire all around him. He looked about in despair.

23. — A part of Figure 6 has been purposely torn away.
Supply, in imagination, the missing portion and write the
suggested story. The picture is entitled "The Kesult of
the Duel."

24. — Complete the following narrative, rewording it from
the beginning and expanding it somewhat, in accordance
with the following suggestions : —

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

259

(1) What message did Currado send to the cook with the
crane ? What did the cook say when he received the
message? when he examined the crane? (2) At what point

did the friend come in ? What did he

say.

and what did

the cook reply ? What would the cook's attitude naturally

Figure 6.

be at first, and how would the friend endeavor to overcome
his scruple ? (3) Picture the host's surprise and embarrass-
ment when he discovered the mutilation. What did the
guests say to one another? In what words did Currado
command the cook to be sent for ? (4) Imagine the cook's

260 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

face and manner as he entered the room. What did Currado
say to him, and how did he say it ? What did the cook
reply ? (5) Think of some of the incidents that occurred as
the two men rode along together. What questions did
Currado ask, and what did the cook reply ? (6) For the
continuation devise some way in which the cook could make
good his rash assertion that cranes have only one leg.

Currado, a citizen of Florence, having one day taken a crane
with his hawk, sent it to his cook to be dressed for supper. After
it had been roasted, the cook yielded to the importunities of one
of his friends and gave him a leg of the crane. His master was
greatly incensed at seeing the bird served up in this mutilated
form. The cook being sent for, excused himself by asserting that
cranes have only one leg. On hearing this Currado was still
further exasperated, and commanded him to produce a live crane
with only one leg, or expect the severest punishment. Next
morning the cook, accompanied by his master, set out in quest of
this vara avisy trembling all the way with terror, and fancying
everything he saw to be a crane with two legs. At length —

25. — Analyze the specimens of narrative below in accord-
ance with the following outline: —

1. Purpose or central idea.

2. Elements of the conflict.

3. Point of highest interest or climax.

4. Character of the conclusion.

5. Irrelevant incidents or descriptions.

(a) Putney Bridge at half an hour before high tide ; thirteen
or fourteen steamers ; five or six thousand boats, and fifteen or
twenty thousand spectators. This is the morning of the great
University race, about which every member of the two great
Universities, and a very large section of the general public, have
been fidgeting and talking for a month or so.

The bridge is black, the lawns are black, every balcony and
window in the town is black ; the steamers are black with a

ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION. 261

swarming, eager multitude, come to see the picked youths of the
upper class try their strength against one another. There are two
friends of ours nearly concerned in the great event of the day.
Charles is rowing there in the Oxford boat, and Marston is steer-
ing. This is a memorable day for both of them, and more espe-
cially for poor Charles.

Now the crowd surges to and fro, and there is a cheer. The
men are getting into their boats. The police-boats are busy clear-
ing the course. Now there is a cheer of admiration. Cambridge
dashes out, swings round, and takes lier place at the bridge.

Another shout. Oxford sweeps majestically out and takes her
place by Cambridge. Away go the police-galleys, away go all the
London club-boats, at ten miles an hour down the course. Now
the course is clear, and there is almost a silence.

'J'hen a wild hubbub ; the people begin to squeeze and crush
against one another. The boats are off; the light has begun;
then the thirteen steamers come roaring on after them, and their
wake is alive once more with boats.

Everywhere a roar and a rushing to and fro. Frantic crowds
upon the towing-path, mad crowds on the steamers, which make
them sway and rock fearfully. Ahead, Hammersmith Bridge,
hanging like a black bar, covered with people as with a swarm of
bees. As an eye-piece to the picture, two solitary flying-boats, and
the flashing oars, working with the rapidity and regularity of
a steam-engine.

"Who's in front?" is asked by a thousand mouths; but who
can tell ? We shall see soon. Hammersmith Bridge is stretching
across the water not a hundred yards in front of the boats. For
one-half second a light shadow crosses the Oxford boat, and then
it is out into sunlight beyond. In another second the same
shadow crosses the Cambridge boat. Oxford is ahead.

The men with light-blue neckties say that, "By George, Oxford
can't keep that terrible quick stroke going much longer ; " and the
men with dark-blue ties say, " Can't she, by Jove I " Well, we
shall know all about it soon, for here is Barnes Bridge. Again
the shadow goes over the Oxford boat, and then one, two, three,
four seconds before the Cambridge men pass beneath it. Oxford
is winning ! There is a shout from the people at Barnes, though
the TToAAol don't know why. Cambridge has made a furious rush,

262 ASSIGNMENTS IN NARRATION.

and drawn nearly np to Oxford ; but it is useless. Oxford leaves
rowing, and Cambridge rows ten strokes before they are level.
Oxford has won 1 — Kingsley : Ravemhoe, chap, xxiii.

(b) Around the head of the lake were crags and precipices in
singularly forbidding arrangement. As we turued thither we saw
no possible way of overcoming them. At its head the lake lay in
an angle of the vertical wall, sharp and straight, like the corner of
a room ; about three hundred ieet in height, and for two hundred
and fifty feet of this a pyramidal pile of blue ice rose from the
lake, rested against the corner, and reached within forty feet of
the top. Looking into the deep blue water of the lake, I concluded
that in our exhausted state it was madness to attempt to swim it.
The only other alternative was to scale that slender pyramid of
ice and find some way to climb the forty feet of smooth wall above
it. . . . Upon the top of the ice we found a narrow, level platform,
upon which we stood together, resting our backs in, the granite
corner and looked down the awful pathway of King's Canyon,
until the rest nerved us enough to turn our eyes upward at the
forty feet of smooth granite which lay between us and safety.

Here and there were small projections from its surface, little
protruding knobs of feldspar, and crevices riven into its face for a
few inches.

As we tied ourselves together, I told Cotter to hold himself in
readiness to jump down into one of these in case I fell, and started
to climb up the wall, succeeding quite well for about twenty feet.
About two feet above my hands was a crack, which, if my arms
had been long enough to reach, would probably have led me to the
very top; but I judged it beyond my powers, and, with great care,
descended to the side of Cotter, who believed that his superior
length of arm would enable him to make the reach.

I planted myself against the rock, and he started cautiously up
the wall. Looking down the glare front of ice, it was not pleasant
to consider at what velocity a slip would send me to the bottom,
or at what angle, and to what probable depth, I should be pro-
jected into the ice-water. Indeed, the idea of such a sudden bath
was so annoying that I lifted my eyes toward my companion. He
reached my farthest point without great difficulty, and made a
bold spring for the crack, reaching it without an inch to spare, and

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 263

holding on wholly by his fingers. He thus worked himself slowly
along the crack toward the top, at last getting his arms over the
brink, and gradually drawing his body up and out of sight. It
was the most splendid piece of slow gymnastics I ever witnessed.
For a moment he said nothing; but when I asked him if he was
all right, he cheerfully repeated, " All right." It was only a mo-
ment's work to send up the two knapsacks and barometer, and
receive again my end of the lasso. As I tied it round my breast,
Cotter said to me, in an easy, confident tone, " Don't be afraid to bear
your weight." I made up my mind, however, to make that climb
without his aid, and husbanded ray strength as I climbed from crack
to crack. I got up without difficulty to my former point, rested there
a moment, hanging solely by my hands, gathered every pound of
strength and atom of will for the reach, then jerked myself upward
with a swing, just getting the tips of my fingers into the crack. In
an instant I had grasped it with my right kand also. I felt the sin-
ews of. my fingers relax a little, but the picture of the slope of ice
and the blue lake affected me so strongly that I redoubled my
grip and climbed slowly along the crack, until I reached the angle,
and got one arm over the edge as Cotter had done. As I rested
my body on the edge and looked up at Cotter, I saw that, instead
of a level top, he was sitting upon a smooth, roof-like slope, where
the least pull would have dragged him over the brink. He had
no brace for his feet, nor hold for his hands, but had seated him-
self calmly, with the rope tied round his breast, knowing that my
only safety lay in being able to make the climb entirely unaided ;
certain that the least waver in his tone would have disheartened
me, and perhaps made it impossible. The shock I received on
seeing this affected me for a moment, but not enough to throw
me off my guard, and I climbed quickly over the edge. When we
had walked back out of danger we sat down upon the granite for
a rest. — C. King: Mountaineering inUhe Sierra Nevada,

Exposition.

1. — (Sections 80-81) — Are the following passages descrip-
tion, narration, or exposition ? What is the theme in each ?
How has the writer simplified the matter ? by the use of

264 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

simple words? by the use of synonyms? by the use of
illustration and particular instances ? by proceeding from
familiar to less familiar ideas ?

(a) I have aheady noticed the example of very pure and high
typical beauty which is to be found in the lines and gradations
of unsullied snow : if, passing to the edge of a sheet of it, upon
the lower Alps, early in May, we find, as we are nearly sure to
tind, two or three little round openings pierced in it, and through
these, emergent, a slender, pensive, fragile flower whose small,
dark, purple-fringed bell hangs down and shudders over the icy
cleft that it has cloven, as if partly wondering at its own recent
grave, and partly dying of very fatigue after its hard- won victory ;
we shall be, or we ought to be, moved by a totally different im-
pression of loveliness from that which we receive among the dead
ice and the idle clouds. There is now uttered to us a call for sym-
pathy, now offered to us an image of moral purpose and achieve-
ment, which, however unconscious or senseless the creature may
indeed be that so seems to call, cannot be heard without affec-
tion, nor contemplated without worship, by any of us whose heart
is rightly tuned, or whose mind is clearly and surely sighted.

— Ruskin : Modern Painters.

(b) It must never be forgotten, in discussing the past and
present of Oxford or Cambridge, that the university and most of
its colleges were originally ecclesiastical institutions, dating from
the time when there was complete communion and accord between
the Church of England and the Papacy. The colleges were origi-
nally, like the old hospitals, eleemosynary establishments, and
like the monasteries, under a common rule of life and intended
primarily for religious purposes. From the original statutes of
the colleges, moreover, it is abundantly clear that they were in
many cases founded " ad studendum," i.e., with the idea that the
inmates should devote themselves to study, not to teaching.
Their founders desired their inmates to acquire more learning
themselves, but did not require them to impart more learning to
others. After the Reformation, the compromise between Catholi-
cism and Protestantism, which is the basis of the Book of Com-
mon Prayer and the Church of England, was fully reflected in the
university and its colleges. The old statutes were retained and

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 265

professedly respected, but practices which those statutes enjoined
were disregarded. The universities remained, indeed, the nursery
of the clergy and the headquarters of ecclesiastical learning, but
as the Anglican Church now professes to be both Catholic and
Protestant, and is really neither, but only Anglican, so the uni-
versities then professed to be national and religious, but were
neither, and only academic. In 1850 their position had become
incompatible with the England of Free Trade ; and the Royal Com-
mission appointed that year as the Oxford University Commission,
while a similar Commission was appointed for Cambridge, was
the recognition of the fact. — Contemporary Review, November, 1892.

(c) Ordinary men must work to live. From that fact come
the world's greatest goods and ills. Ten dollars a year, stolen
from each man or woman, who is struggling to maintain a safe-
guard for the future, may suffice to keep a score of men in
luxury, but the thorough public understanding of this method
may decrease the general reverence for wealth. We are doing
in all directions what we can to lessen the harms of poverty.
We (rather ineffectually) forbid children to work under con-
ditions that stunt their physical and moral growth. We do not
allow women to labor at the expense of future generations. We
study pauperism, and must do so more carefully as population
becomes more dense. We watch with anxiety statistics bearing
on the cost of living. All this has to do with the welfare of
the classes which most need help, and all this is as worthy a
task as there is for men to do; but nothing has a more direct
bearing on the welfare of the struggling many than honesty in
politics and honesty in finance. The injury to the fairly pros-
perous is considerable when self-seeking and dishonesty become
enthroned in great storehouses of the people's wealth. The in-
jury to those for whom mere existence means a struggle is many,
many times more great.

(d) Free government is self-government — a government of the
people by the people. The best government of this sort is that
which the people think best. An imposed government, a govern-
ment like that of the English in India, may very possibly be better;
it may represent the views of a higher race than the governed race ;
but it is not therefore a free government. A free government

266 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

is that which the people subject to it voluntarily choose. In
a casual collection of loose people the only possible free gov-
ernment is a democratic government. Where no one knows or
cares for or respects any one else, all must rank equal; no
one's opinion can be more potent than that of another. But, as
has been explained, a deferential nation has a structure of its own.
Certain persons are by common consent agreed to be wiser than
others, and their opinion is, by consent, to rank for much more
than its numerical value. We may in these happy nations
weigh votes as well as count them, though in less favored coun-
tries we can count only. But in free nations, the Totes so weighed
or so counted must decide. A perfect free government is one
which decides perfectly according to those votes; an imperfect,
one which so decides imperfectly ; a bad, one which does not so
decide at all. Public opinion is the test of this polity ; the best
opinion which, with its existing habits of deference, the nation
will accept : if the free government goes by that opinion, it is" a
good government of its species ; if it contravenes that opinion, it is
a bad one. — Bagehot: The English Constitution^ p. 221.

(e) I lately heard a man of thought and energy contrasting
the want .of ardor and movement which he now found amongst
young men in this country with what he remembered in his own
youth, twenty years ago. " What reformers we were then 1 " he
exclaimed ; " what a zeal we had I how we canvassed every insti-
tution in Church and State, and were prepared to remodel them
all on first principles 1 " He was inclined to regret, as a spiritual
flagging, the lull which he saw. I am disposed rather to regard
it as a pause in which the turn to a mode of spiritual progress is be-
ing accomplished. Everything was long seen, by the young and
ardent amongst us, in inseparable connection with politics and
practical life. We have pretty well exhausted the benefits of see-
ing things in this connection, we have got all that can be got by
so seeing them. Let us try a more disinterested mode of seeing
them ; let us betake ourselves more to the serener life of the mind
and spirit. This life, too, may have its excesses and dangers;
but they are not for us at present. Let us think of quietly enlarg-
ing our stock of true and fresh ideas, and not, as soon as we
get an idea or half an idea be running out with it into the street,

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 267

and trying to make it rule there. Our ideas will, in the end,
shape the world all the better for maturing a little. Perhaps in
fifty years' time it will in the English House of Commons be an
objection to an institution that it is an anomaly, and my friend
the Member of Parliament will shudder in his grave. But let
us in the meanwhile rather endeavor that in twenty years' time
it may, in English literature, be an objection to a proposition
that it is absurd. That will be a change so vast, that the im-
agination almost fails to grasp it. Ah integro sasclorum nascitur
ordo. — Arnold : The Function of Criticism,

2. — (Sections 81-82) — What complete or partial definition
is made or suggested in each of the following ? What classi-
fication is suggested in each case ?

(a) Culture is a vague term : but when we speak of a man of
culture we certainly mean a man of liberal education ; and if our
definition of a liberal education be correct, a man may be a man
of culture though destitute of Latin and Greek. On the other
hand, inasmuch as a liberal education has regard to the ideal of
" man," it follows that the humanistic or man-subjects promote a
liberal education and consequent culture, in a sense which realistic
studies do not. A man trained solely in the latter cannot be liber-
ally educated ; a man trained solely in the former can, on the con-
trary, be liberally educated. In short, what is called culture is
not within the reach of the man trained solely on the real-natural-
istic, but it is attainable by the man trained solely on the real-
humanistic.

(b) Although the heart and mind of Whittier were for the
most part absorbed in the agitation against slavery, some of the
strongest proofs of his purely artistic faculty were exhibited be-
fore the close of the Civil War ; among these may be named such
ballads as Maud Muller, Skipper Ireson, and The Pipes at Luck-
now.' It is, nevertheless, true that the national as distinguished
from the sectional awakening to the charm of Whittier's verse
dates from the publication in 1866-7 of Snow-Bound and The Tent
on the Beach, In these compositions it is evident that his aspira-
tions and endeavors are tending to turn away from a homiletical
or didactic purpose to the embodiment of aesthetic beauty. But,

268 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

although he no longer weakened the artistic effect of a composi
tion by tacking to it a moral, it must not be inferred that Whittier
was ever a conscious advocate of art for art. His whole nature
was steeped in a sense of duty and responsibility, and it is doubt-
ful if he could even comprehend beauty divorced from goodness.
His conception of the poet was rather that of the vates, or bard,
who elevates, than that of the poeta, or maker, whose exclusive
purpose is to please. In his view the possession of artistic powers
implied a divine commission to lift, invigorate, and purify man-
kind. — New York Sun.

(C) All education is, in a sense, education of will. Of course,
for scientific exactness, we distinguish will from other activities
of mind, and we may for convenience here assume the ordinary
psychological division into intelligence, emotion, and will ; but it
is an elementary commonplace of psychology, that though these
activities are distinguishable in thought, they are not to be treated
as if they were usually separated in mental life. Will is therefore
not to be conceived as an activity in itself, capable of being isolated
from intelligence and emotion. In such isolation it is unreal ab-
straction, it is merely the abstract concept which physical science
finds useful for its purposes under the name of force. As a con-
crete reality, will is active intelligence stimulated by emotion : or,
as it may equally well be described, it is active emotion directed
by intelligence. — J. C. Murray : Educational Review, June, 1891.

3. — (Sections 82-83) — Study the following specimen pf
scientific definition. Mark the partial definitions and the
trial definitions. What are the chief methods of exposition
employed ?

There has ever prevailed among men a vague notion that
scientific knowledge differs in nature from ordinary knowledge.
By the Greeks, with whom Mathematics — literally things learnt
— was alone considered as knowledge proper, the distinction must
have been strongly felt ; and it has ever since maintained itself in
the general mind. Though, considering the contrast between the
achievements of science and those of daily un methodic thinking,
it is not surprising that such a distinction has been assumed ; yet
it needs but to rise a little above the common point of view, to see

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 269

that no such distinction can really exist ; or that at best it is but
a superficial distinction. The same faculties are employed in
both cases ; and in both cases their mode of operation is funda-
mentally the same.

If we say that science is organized knowledge, we are met by
the truth that all knowledge is organized in a greater or less de-
gree — that the commonest actions of the household and the field
presuppose facts colligated, inferences drawn, results expected;
and that the general success of these actions proves the data by
which they were guided to have been correctly put together. If,
again, we say that science is prevision — is a seeing beforehand —
is a knowing in what times, places, combinations, or sequences
specified phenomena will be found, we are' yet obliged to confess
that the definition includes much that is utterly foreign to science
in its ordinary acceptation. For example, a child's knowledge of
an apple. This, as far as it goes, consists in previsions. When a
child sees a certain form and colors, it knows that if it puts out
its hand it will have certain impressions of resistance, and round-
ness and smoothness ; and if it bites, a certain taste. And mani-
festly its general acquaintance with surrounding objects is of like
nature — is made up of facts concerning them, so grouped as that
any part of a group being perceived, the existence of the other
facts included in it is foreseen.

If, once more, we say that science is exact prevision, we still fail
to establish the supposed difference. Not only do we find that
much of what we call science is not exact, and that some of it, as
physiology, can never become exact, but we find further, that
many of the previsions constituting the common stock alike of
wise and ignorant are exact. That an unsupported body will
fall; that a lighted candle will go out when immersed in water;
that ice will melt when thrown on the fire — these, and many like
predictions relating to the familiar properties of things, have as
high a degree of accuracy as predictions are capable of. It is
true that the results predicted are of a very general character; but
it is none the less true that they are rigorously correct as far as
they go ; and this is all that is requisite to fulfil the definition.
There is perfect accordance between the anticipated phenomena and
the actual ones ; and no more than this can be said of the highest
achievements of the sciences specially characterized as exact.

270 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

Seeing thus that the assumed distinction between scientific
knowledge and common knowledge is not logically justifiable, and
yet feeling, as we must, that however impossible it may be to
draw a line between them, the two are not practically identical,
there arises the question — What is the relationship that exists
between them ? A partial answer to this question may be drawn
from the illustrations just given. On reconsidering them, it will
be observed that those portions of ordinary knowledge which are
identical in character with scientific knowledge, comprehend only
such combinations of phenomena as are directly cognizable by the
senses, and are of simple, invariable nature. That the smoke from
a fire which she is lighting will ascend, and that the fire will pres-
ently boil water, are previsions which the servant-girl makes
equally well with the most learned physicist; they are equally
certain, equally exact with his ; but they are previsions concerning
phenomena in constant and direct relation — phenomena that fol-
low visibly and immediately after their antecedents — phenomena
of which the causation is neither remote nor obscure — phenomena
which may be predicted by the simplest possible act of reasoning.

If, now, we pass to the previsions constituting what is commonly
known as science — that an eclipse of the moon will happen at a
specified time; and when a barometer is taken to the top of a
mountain of known height, the mercurial column will descend
a stated number of inches ; that the poles of a galvanic battery
immersed in water will give off, the one an inflammable and the
other an inflaming gas, in definite ratio — we perceive that the
relations involved are not of a kind habitually presented to our
senses; that they depend, some of them, upon special combina-
tions of causes, and that in some of them the connection between
antecedents and consequents is established only by an elaborate
series of inferences. The broad distinction, therefore, between
the two orders of knowledge is not in their nature, but in their
remoteness from perception.

If we regard the cases in their most general aspect, we see that
the laborer, who, on hearing certain notes in the adjacent hedge,
can describe the particular form and colors of the bird making
them; and the astronomer, who, having calculated a transit of
Venus, can delineate the black spot entering on the sun*s disk, as
it will appear through the telescope, at a specified hour, do essen-

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 271

tially the game thing. Each knows that on f ulj&lling the requisite
conditions, he shall have a preconceived impression — that after a
definite series of actions will come a group of sensations of a fore-
known kind. The difference, then, is not in the fundamental
character of the mental acts, or in the correctness of the previsions
accomplished by them, but in the complexity of the processes
required to achieve the previsions. Much of our commonest
knowledge is, as far as it goes, rigorously precise. Science does
not increase this precision ; cannot transcend it. What then does
it do ? It reduces other knowledge to the same degree of precision.
That certainty which direct perception gives us respecting co-
existences and sequences of the simplest and most accessible kind,
science gives us respecting coexistences and sequences, complex in
their dependencies or inaccessible to immediate observation. In
brief, regarded from this point of view, science may be called an
extension of the perceptions by means of reasoning.

On further considering the matter, however, it will perhaps be
felt that this definition does not express the whole fact — that
inseparable as science may be from common knowledge, and com-
pletely as we may fill up the gap between the simplest previsions
of the child and the most recondite ones of the natural philoso-
pher, by interposing a series of previsions in which the complexity
of reasoning involved is greater and greater, there is yet a differ-
ence between the two beyond that which is here described. And
this is true. But the difference is still not such as enables us to
draw the assumed line of demarcation . It is a difference not between
common knowledge and scientific knowledge, but between t^ie
successive phases of science itself, or knowledge itself — which-
ever we choose to call it. In its earlier phases science attains
only to certainty of foreknowledge ; in its later phases it further
attains to completeness. We begin by discovering a relation : we
end by discovering the relation. Our first achievement is to fore-
tell the kind of phenomenon which will occur under specific con-
ditions : our last achievement is to foretell not only the kind but
the amount. Or, to reduce the proposition to its most definite
form — undeveloped science is qualitative prevision ; developed
science is quantitative prevision.

This will at once be perceived to express the remaining distinc-
tion between the lower and the higher stages of positive knowl-

272 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

edge. The prediction that a piece of lead will take more force to
lift it than a piece of wood of equal size, exhibits certainty, but
not completeness, of foresight. The kind of eifect in which the
one body w^ill exceed the other is foreseen, but not the amount by
which it will exceed. There is qualitative prevision only. On the
other hand, the prediction that at a stated time two particular
planets will be in conjunction ; that by means of a lever, having
arms in a given ratio, a known force will raise just so many
pounds; that to decompose a specified quantity of sulphate of iron
by carbonate of soda will require so many grains — these predic-
tions exhibit foreknowledge, not only of the nature of the effects to
be produced, but of the magnitude, either of the effects themselves, of
the agencies producing them, or of the distance in time or space at
which they will be produced. There is not only qualitative but
quantitative prevision.

And this is the unexpressed difference which leads us to consider
certain orders of knowledge as especially scientific when contrasted
with knowledge in general. Are the phenomena measurable f is
the test which we unconsciously employ. Space is measurable:
hence Geometry. Force and space are measurable : hence Statics.
Time, force, and space are measurable : hence Dynamics. The
invention of the barometer enabled men to extend the principles
of mechanics to the atmosphere ; and Aerostatics existed. When
a thermometer was devised there arose a science of heat, which
was before impo&sible. Such of our sensations as we have not yet
found modes of measuring do not originate sciences. We have no
science of smells ; nor have we one of tastes. We have a science
of the relations of sounds differing in pitch, because we have dis-
covered a way to measure them ; but we have no science of sounds
in respect to their loudness or their timbre, because we have got no
measures of loudness and timbre.

Obviously it is this reduction of the sensible phenomena it
represents, to relations of magnitude, which gives to any division
of knowledge its especially scientific character. Originally men's
knowledge of weights and forces was in the same condition as their
knowledge of smells and tastes is now — a knowledge not extend-
ing beyond that given by unaided sensations ; and it remained
so until weighing instruments and dynamometers were invented.
Before there were hour-glasses and <jlepsydra8, most phenomena

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 273

could be estimated as to their durations ahd intervals, with no
greater precision than degrees of hardness can be estimated by the
fingers. Until a thermometric scale was contrived, men's judg-
ments respecting relative amounts of heat stood on the same foot-
ing with their present judgments respecting relative amounts of
sound. And as in these initial stages, with no aids to observation,
only the roughest gomparisons of cases could be made, and only
the most marked differences perceived ; it is obvious that only the
most simple laws of dependence could be ascertained — only those
laws which being uncomplicated with others, and not disturbed in
their manifestations, required no niceties of observation to disen-
tangle them. Whence it appears not only that in proportion ask nowl-
edge becomes quantitative do its previsions become complete as
well as certain, but that until its assumption of a quantitative char-
acter it is necessarily confined to the most elementary relations.

— Spencer : The Genesis of Science.

4. — (Section 83) — Make a one-sentence definition of the
following : —

1. A college. 2. A university. 3. A student.

4. An educated man. 5. A gentleman.

5. — (Section 83) — Write an essay on one of the follow-
ing terms in which your purpose shall be to reach finally a
satisfactory definition. On the way to the final definition
record all of your trial definitions, and include all of the
illustrations, examples, distinctions, exceptions, that have
come to you. A good beginning is the criticism of the
dictionary definition, or of what is generally understood by
the term.

1. Religion. 5. Free Speech. 9. Socialism.

2. Success. 6. Natural right. 10. Liberty.

3. History. 7. Anarchism. 11. Culture.

4. Democracy. 8. Nihilism. 12. Progress.

6. — (Section 83) — Criticise the following by the four
niles of logical definition : —

274 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

1. Rhetoric teaches us how to express ourselves.

2. A kangaroo is a marsupial.

3. History is a compound of poetry and philosophy.

4. Heroism is the opposite of cowardice.

5. A gentleman is one who never inflicts pain.

7. — {Sections 84-87) — Criticise the following by the rules
of division, noting the principle of classification, the clear-
ness and completeness of the division, any overlapping of
topics, and the arrangement of topics by cause, contrast, or
contiguity : —

(a) Annexation of Canada.

A* Probability of ultimate separation of Canada from England.

1. Divergence of commercial interest.

2. Distance, and difference in character of the people.
" 3. Influence of the United States.

B. Shall annexation to the United States follow ?

1. Considerations favorable to annexation.

(a) Extradition laws rendered unnecessary.

(b) The United States would acquire a vast and valuable

territory.

(d) *' Manifest destiny." The two countries naturally one.

2. Considerations opposed to annexation.

(a) The financial condition of both countries.

(1) Canada's debt increasing.

(2) Debt of the United States decreasing.
(5) Undesirable classes of Canada's population.

(d) All the advantages of annexation may be acquired by

better trade- and extradition-treaties, with no dis-
advantages.

3. Estimate of weight of arguments and inference against

annexation.

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 275

(b) Dangers of Unrestricted Immigration.

Introduction :

1. Extent of immigration before the Civil War ; character of

immigrants.

2. Numbers and general character of present immigrants.
Discussion :

1. Political dangers.

(a) Influence when consolidated against American inter-
ests.
(6) Hostility of some to American political ideas.

(d) Evil results of party efforts to secure solid foreign vote.

2. Social dangers.

(a) Tendency to clannishness in mode of life.
(6) The educational question,
(c) The religious question.
Conclusion :

1. Need of new naturalization laws.

2. Need of a restricted franchise.

3. Need of more stringent immigration laws.

A. Human interest.

1. Characterization.

2. Passion.

3. Idealism or realism.

4. Humor and pathos.

5. Moral purpose.

B. Imagination.

1. Artistic power.

2. Insight.

3. Image-making.

4. Originality.

C. Unity.

1. Design.

2. Constructive power.

3. Plot.

4. Organic relationship.

276 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

D, Style.

1. Musical power.

2. Phrasing power.

3. Sentence-structure.

E, Attitude of the writer.

1. Towards truth.

2. Towards philosophy.

(a) Constructive.
(6) Destructive. •
(c) The law of love.

3. Towards contemporaries.

4. Towards the past.

5. Towards the ideals of his age.

6. Towards conservatism and progress.

7. Towards religion and women.

(d) The Heal Problem of the Unemployed,

I. The proper method of solving the problem.

A. Not by impulsive action.

B, By careful investigation.

II. Practical application of the method.

A, Places.

1. America; municipalities and charity organizations.

2. England ; seventy-three municipalities.

B. Limitations of English experiment.

1. Work not involving stigma of pauperism.

2. Work that all can perform.

3. Work that does not compete with other laborers.

4. Work that does not interfere with regular employ

ment.
III. Results of the experiments.

A. Facts stated in reports.

1. In general.

2. In special cases.

B. Inferences stated in reports.

1. Men who fear pauperism not reached.

2. Men reached were the " permanently unemployed."

3. Unskilled labor not properly so called.

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 277

IV. General inference as to nature of problem.

A, Not to find work for the unemployed.

B. To make the unemployed work.

1. To train the incompetent.

2. To punish the unwilling.

(e) G-ovemment Ownership of Railways.

Introduction :

1. Rapid growth^ magnitude, and importance of the railway

system.

2. Some evils and abnormal conditions.
Discussion :

1. Need of some reform evinced by

(a) Disregard of public good by corporations.

(b) The failure of competition.

2. Legal methods of reform, short of ownership.

(a) State and national commissions with power to force
fair treatment.

(6) Withdrawal of franchises in case of gross misman-
agement.

3. Dangers of government ownership.

(a) Mismanagement and loss. Examples from foreign

countries.

(b) Deterioration of roads through lack of interest.

1. Government ownership not the solution.

2. Legal methods of reform, short of ownership, sufficient.

(f) Wordsworth is Unpopular.

A. At home,

(a) In his lifetime,

1. His poetry sold poorly ;

2. The public was slow to recognize him ;

3. He was effaced by Scott and Byron ;

4. He was overshadowed by Tennyson.

278 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

(h) Since his death,

1. Coleridge's influence, which once told in his favor,

has waned ;

2. In spite of his eulogists, the pnblic has remained co]d.
B. On the Continent, which

(a) Recognized the glory of Newton and Darwin ;
(6) Does not know Wordsworth ;

(g) College Uxaminations.

A . Principles sought.

1. Obviously necessary to a<*certain fitness for admission to
(a) The learned professions.

(A) The civil service.

(1) Admission by diploma from accredited schools,

(2) Admission by certiHcate from teachers of known

excellence.

2. The purpose in examining in the three cases above is

(a) To ascertain fitness or unfitness, — something un-
known to the examiners.

B, Antithesis. But in college this cannot be the purpose in re-

gard to most students, since
1. The instructor learns the attainments of his students from
their daily work. But (1) is modified by

(a) In large recitation classes, doubt about individual
cases.

(b) In lecture courses, doubt may exist about all.
C Partial conclusions :

1. For doubtful cases, examination necessary for inforrtiation

of instructor.

2. For the majority of students, examination unnecessary for

this purpose.

3. Resulting alternatives : either abolish for (2) or seek fur-

ther reasons.
D. The real purposes :

1. To convince unfaithful students of their deficiencies.

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 279

2. To give the others an opportunity for comprehensive

review.

3. To show all what are regarded as the most important

points.
E, Application of principles locally.

8. — {Sections 83-8T) — Classify : —

1. Chairs. 4. Novels.

2. Fences. 5. Games.

3. Schools. 6. Governments.

9. — (Sections 83-87) — On what principle is the division
made in each of the following selections ?

(a) That Henry Thomas Buckle's thoughts and conversation
were always on a high level, is remembered by a rapidly departing
group of people who knew him as the friend of their elders. Mr.
Charles Stewart says of him: "I recollect a saying of his which
not only greatly impressed me at the time, but which I have ever
since cherished as a test of the mental caliber of friends and
acquaintances. Buckle said, in his dogmatic way: *Men and
women range themselves into three classes or orders of intelli-
gence; you can tell the lowest class by their habit of always
talking about persons, the next by the fact that their habit is
always to converse about things, the highest by their preference
for the discussion of ideas.' "

(b) Chemistry may be of use to medicine in at least three
quite different ways. One of these is concerned with finding
out what things are made of. This kind of chemistry is called
analytical chemistry. Another way in which chemistry can help
medicine depends upon the ability of the modern chemist, not
only to find out what the things are made of, but also to discover
how the parts are put together. This branch of chemistry is called <
structural chemistry, because it has to do not only with the ma-
terials, but also with the way in which these materials are ar-
ranged. Yet another method of helpfulness comes from a still
more recent development of chemistry, commonly called physical
chemistry, which deals with the phenomena lying on the border
line between physics and chemistry — especially that part of the

280 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

harder line eonceniiiig the relation of energy to material. The
physical cheoji^ vauat know, not onlv what things are made of
and how these elements are pat together, but also what eneigr is
concerned in patting them together, and what energy is set free
when they are decomposed. — Theodore Richards.

10. — (SKtkm 88) — What methods of exposition are used
in each of the following ?

(a) We piled, with care, oar nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back, —
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick.
And on its top the stout back-stick ;
The knotty fore-stick laid apart.
And filled between with curious art
The ragged brush ; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, canght the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam.
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom :
While radiant, with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.

— Whittier: Snow-Bound.

(b) To the student of political history, and to th.e English stu-
dent above all others, the conversion of the Roman Republic into
a military empire commands a peculiar interest Notwithstanding
many differences, the English and the Romans essentially resemble
one another. The early Romans possessed the faculty of self-gov-
ernment beyond any people of whom we have historical knowledge,
.with the one exception of ourselves. In virtue of their temporal
freedom, they became the most jKJwerful nation in the known
world ; and their liberties perished only when Rome became the
mistress of the conquered races to whom she was unable or unwill-
ing to extend her privileges. If England was similarly supreme,
if all rival powers were eclipsed by her or laid under her feet, the
Imperial tendencies, which are as strongly marked in us as our

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 28l

love of liberty, might lead us over the same course to the same
end. — Froude: Ccesar; A Sketch,

(O) The sporting spirit has improved among us. We are still
somewhat too anxious to win, but the excess of eagerness is a trifle
compared to what it was. Gain in sporting amenity, in sporting
cultivation, so to speak, has a mollifying influence on our whole
tone, and nothing, therefore, is more welcome than the interna-
tional contests, in which we seek not to fall below our visitors in
urbanity. A tennis player, for instance, who delayed the game on
a pretext, in order to worry a more nervous antagonist, would be
condemned to-day even by the same men who might have admired
his cleverness half a dozen years ago. *^ Bluffing the umpire " in
amateur baseball is no longer looked upon as honorable. Yachting
has always been on a higher plane of courtesy than other sports,
and it is a charming bit of comedy that tlie only notorious excep-
tion was an English nobleman, whereas one of the best examples
of cheery sportsmanship is an English grocer. In tennis we may
take especial satisfaction in the fact that our foremost players are
all in active business, and cease work for a few weeks only, to meet
experts whose lives are devoted to the game. Golf has now be-
come international. For no sport do we owe Great Britain so
much appreciation as for this, the friend of old men and children,
of women and strong athletes, the ally of nature and her beauty,
an exercise which strengthens the muscles and the organs and puts
no strain upon the nerves. Automobile contests have taken place
only in foreign countries, and there is no demand for them here.
Thus far, automobiling for speed is on a level with jumping from
Brooklyn Bridge. Boxing, " the noble art of self-defence," seems
to be so inseparable from brutality that its fine features of skill
and spirit are almost shut off from all except the rough profes-
sional, and no attention is paid by the general public to any but
the championship contests. Even prize-fighting is less brutal than
it was, and all the more respectable sports are gaining in extent
and quality. Hundreds of gymnasiums now are found in cities
which a few years ago had none, and indeed, for indoor exercise,
we now have more facilities than any other country.

11. — (Section 88) — Write an explanation of one of the
following : —

282

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

1. Making a newspaper. 7.

2. Binding a book. 8.

3. How to study. 9.

4. How to read a book. 10.

5. How to care for a furnace. 11.

6. The game of tennis.

12. — (Section 89) — Write on one of the following, using
the narrative method : —

Learning to swim.
The travelling library.
Initiative and referendum.
Wireless telegraphy.
Electric signs.

1. Church-going.

2. Keeping a diary.

3. The decay of sentiment.

4. Letter-writing.

5. Growing worldly wise.

6. Changes in fashions.

7. Humors of a political campaign.

8. The examination room.

13. — (Section 89) — Write on one of the following, using
the method of description : —

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.

Difficulties of having fun.
Troubles in entering college.
How students recite.
The new maid-servant.
The shop-girl.
Being a co-ed.

7. The student of to-day.

8. The professor.

9. The football man.

10. The society man.

11. The wire-puller.

14. — (Sections 88-91) — Explain the terms : —

1. Manual labor.

2. Centre of population.

Manifest destiny.
The B.A. degree.

15. — (Section 90) — Explain all of the unusual words in
the following selections. Rewrite in simple language.

(a) Generic ideas are appercipient masses. By blending they
reenforce that element of the presentation which has a common
content with them, and the other elements which they do not
share are thrust out of sight, unless some other appercipient mass
is awakened to receive them.

(b) A word as to strain -sheet engineering, as to what it con-
notes. A mode of thinking, followed by sequence of action,
wherein fundamental repose in formulas and calculations derived

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 283

from various highly conventional assumptions, coupled with a
failure to recognize molecular motion, or structural motion, and
a subsumption, explicitly, implicitly, and tacitly postulated, that a
perfection of mechanical workmanship obtains which is sometimes
realized, i.e. false assumption of hypothetical relations. — " Riveted
Lattice for Railroad Bridges of Medium Span," Engineering NewSy
January 23, 1908.

(c) The effect contemplated by the author [Henry James] is
not the integrity of a purely aesthetic impression, as in the case of
Pater. Mr. James has rather in view an intellectual explicitness
of analytical statement, not given in successive parts, but as a
whole, thus faithfully reflecting mental processes that are not
sequent, but simultaneous. His purpose is to give a psychological
vivisection, all the strata being presented in a single view. The
result is an unexampled and most interesting phenomenon in lit-
erature — interesting, that is, as a psychological study. Ordi-
narily an architectural structure which is suspensive regards sup-
ports in its progression, confident, at every point, of a stability by
which the past at least is secure. But Henry James holds his
fabric in suspense, with no visible support, while he turns upon
his course describing an ellipse, and ellipses within that ellipse —
always a faithful following of the psychological involutions in the
author's subjective analysis — until the reader of average intelli-
gence is lost in the bewildering maze.

16. — (Sections 88-91) — Explain the difference between :

1. Discovery and invention. 8. Description and exposition.

2. Salary and wages. 9. Poverty and pauperism.

3. Work and play. 10. Charity and alms-giving.

4. Humor and satire. 11. Fancy and imagination.

5. Wicked and depraved. 12. Ignorant and illiterate.

6. Novel and romance. 13. Obvious and apparent.

7. Learning and wisdom. 14. To effect and to affect.

17. — (Sections 88-91) — Explain the following quotations :

1. He often acts unjustly who does not do a certain thing, not
only he who does a oertain thing, -^ Marcus Aurelius AntoninuSt

284 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

2. The misfortunes hardest to bear are those that never come.

— Lowell.

3. There are no accidents in my philosophy. — Lincoln.

4. Fame enters every household in her quest for favorites.

— Shauck.

18. — (Section 91) — Write an interpretation of : —

1. Character in dogs. 2. A certain picture. 3. A certain book.
4. Moods of a rainy day. 5. A certain piece of music.

19. — (Sections 88-91) — What methods of exposition in
the following ? What approaches to definition and classifi-
cation ?

(a) What a wonderful institution the intelligent man-horse of
Japan has become ! He has all the virtues of his equine brother
and none of his vices. You beckon to your horse to come across
the street, and he at once obeys you. He never shies at a piece of
white paper and cares naught for a steam-roller. Without bit or
bridle or check-rein he goes just where you tell him. Moreover,
he may be much wiser than you yourself are in many matters, and
will tell you the direction, and all the turnings that lie between
you and your destination, descanting, if you desire him to do so,
upon the points of interest on your route, and the view-points from
which you can get the best glimpses of the surrounding country.
If the robe that keeps you warm in winter gets untucked, the man-
horse stops and adjusts it, and if you wish to buy a newspaper to
while away the time, or a basket of oranges and persimmons
wherewith to refresh yourself, he lets down the shafts and trots off
to the nearest store to make the purchase. If you wish for no
refreshments and for no information, he respects your feelings and
acknowledges your right to taciturnity, and keeps on his steady
jog-trot.

(b) There is a radical difference between relaxation and rec-
reation. To relax is to unbend the bow, to diminish the tension,
to lie fallow, to open the nature on all sides. Relaxation involves
passivity ; it is a negative condition so far as activity is concerned
although it is often a positive condition so far as growth is con-
cerned. Recreation, on the other hand, involves activity, but ac-

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 285

tivity along other lines than those of work. Froebel first developed
the educational significance and uses of play. Earlier thinkers
and writers on education had seen that play is an important element
in the unfolding of a child's nature, but Proebel discerned the
psychology of play, and showed how it may be utilized for
educational purposes. His comments on this subject are full of
significance : " The plays of the child contain the germ of the whole
life that is to follow ; for the man develops and manifests himself
in play, and reveals the noblest aptitudes and the deepest elements
of his being. . . . The plays of childhood are the germinal leaves
of all later life ; for the whole man is developed and shown in these,
in his tenderest dispositions, in his innermost tendencies."

(o) The difficulty in ascertaining the sources of Lincoln's
power results from the bewildering antitheses which the subject
presents, not only antitheses in the literature which he produced,
but in his life and character. His life, though finished at its noon,
reached from a humble cabin to a position of greatest authority
and to an immortality of influence. Though deeply religious, he
was without theology or dogma. Though his companionship was
sought by lovers of mirth> bereavements of his youth sound minor
chords which are audible in every movement of his life's symphony.
Though so tender of heart that the maintenance of military dis-
ciplitie gave him intense and enduring pain, he stood as the
indomitable leader in the most destructive war of the century.
Though a consistent opponent of slavery, he had no word of mal-
ediction for those who practised it. Though grave with anxiety
for the close of the war, he had infinite patience with subordinates
who disappointed him in its prosecution. Bound by a law of his
being to speak the absolute truth to all to whom he owed speech,
he was able to practise all the concealment required by the most
successful statecraft. Deeply believing that in both its ethical
and economic aspects slavery was wrong and at variance from our
theories of government, he would not, to overthrow it, have prose-
cuted the war for a day beyond the requirements of the preservation
of the Union. An excited people incapable even of recognizing,
much less of estimating, the facts in the complex problem set for
his solution, and viewing him with diverse prejudices, came to
contradictory conclusions respecting his character and abilities.

— Shauck : Abraham Lincoln,

286 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

(d) The question is frequently asked, How are conditions so
radically changed since the French failure to build a sea-level
canal as to permit the United States to undertake it now with any
hupe of success ? In the first place, the first French management
was incompetent and extravagant almost beyond conception.
Secondly, both it and its successor, the New Company, were pri-
vate corporations working for a commercial profit, and obliged to
pay at least six per cent for their capital ; whereas the American
government, being able to borrow at almost one-third that rate,
can invest nearly three times the same capital without placing any
greater annual burden on the enterprise . Thirdly, great progress
has taken place in machine-excavators, by which the material can
be handled more cheaply, while the previously unrealizable develop-
ment of electric power at Gamboa will pay for that portion of the
construction. Finally, as a justification if not a reason, ships have
increased so greatly in size that what would have sufficed twenty
years ago would be inadequate now, and still more so when the
canal will be finished a dozen years hence.

(e) The poet, often so sad himself, sings all men's joys and
sorrows as if they were his own, and there is nothing that can
happen to us, nothing we can experience, no stroke of fate, and no
mood of heart or mind that we cannot find expressed and inter-
preted for us somewhere in some poet's book. Take but one poet,
— Robert Burns, for instance, — and think of the immense addition
to the sum total of human pleasure and human consolation that his
handful of Scotch songs has made. Who asks, " What's the use
of poetry?" when he joins in Auld Lang Syne, Bind feels his
heart stirred to its tearful depths with the sentiment of human
brotherhood, and the almost tragic dearness of friends.

(f) There is no branch of the Republic of the United States
which the oligarchy of business mor6 closely resembles than the
American Senate. Both the Senate and a company's board of di-
rectors are elected, but under conditions which have become far from
democratic. The Senate's membership in large part is the result
of combined political and commercial manipulation. The board of
directors, like the Senate, unites executive and legislative and even
judicial functions. It is customary to divide directors as Senators
of the United States are divided, into classes, so that the terms of

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 287

only one-third of the members expire in any one year — a device
that serves to perpetuate power. Like the Senate, directors can
meet behind closed doors in executive session and give out no re-
port of debates.

(g) It will doubtless be generally confessed that the departures
of the American people from the way originally ordained for them
were never so common and never so disquieting as now. In offi-
cial circles offences of malfeasance and corrupt breaches of public
trust are alarmingly frequent. The old landmarks of integrity
and faithfulness to duty which once indicated our nation's course
of safety are rashly neglected ; and public extravagance, no
longer universally condemned as a disgrace to official stewardship,
is flaunted before our people as evidence of the splendor of our
nationality. In business and social circles the pursuit of money
has become heartless and rapacious ; the deference to those who
have won great fortunes has grown in many quarters to be so un-
questioning and so obsequious as to amount to scandalous servility,
while the envy ofthe rich among the struggling poor is more than
ever bitter and menacing. In politics there is far too often con-
cealed behind a pretence of devotion to the public weal the sly
promotion of disreputably selfish and personal advantages ; and in
the industrial field there is no longer found the generous and con-
tented coSperation between employer and employee which should
insure the prosperity and happiness of both. In addition to all
this, there is sadly apparent among those who undertake trustee-
ship a tendency to complacently venture upon bold and rank vio-
lations of duty, only explained by the prevalence of lax and flip-
pant conceptions of the sacredness of fiduciary obligations.

(h) What Sainte-Beuve desired was to introduce into criti-
cism a kind of charm and reality, which had been lacking before
him. To this end, he used biography and history. " Know the
man thoroughly " was his maxim. There were three chief influ-
ences, in his opinion, that made a writer what he was : (1) the
general condition of literature just before he began writing, (2) the
particular kind of education he received, (3) the bent of his own
genius. In one of his essays Sainte-Beuve says that it is important
to distinguish a writer from others of his native country, and then
from others of his race. Nature has helped us here, for we can

288 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

find source characteristics in the parents of the writer, especially
in his mother. His children also should be studied for traits that
are less marked in him. When we have considered his parents
and children, we should attend to his education and inquire into
his studies. Very important is the first group of friends in which
we find him after his talent has been recognized, the first poetic
centre that helps to form him. Every work that he afterwards
produced should be judged in relation to the social group to which
he belonged, and the circumstances (political and social) of the
moment. Only thus can the critic determine the writer's origi-
nality and what is imitation in him. We must not discover
beauties in his work that he did not put there. We may study
his peculiar genius best at the moment when his powers begin to
decline ; for then we can easily begin to comp&re his best work
with his poor work. We may judge him by his subsequent ad-
mirers and disciples. Afl&nities betray themselves. Finally we
properly ask: What were his religious views? How was he af-
fected by Nature ? What was his attitude towards women? Was
he rich or poor? What was his manner of life? his vice? his
weakness ? These things tell a story.

(i) Among the various biographies of Whitman, Professor
George R. Carpenter's Walt Whitman is distinctly the best of
those accounts of the poets which may be classed as appreciations
rather than as critical estimates. The early death of Professor
Carpenter is a distinct loss to literary scholarship in this country.
He was a man of thorough academic training and of lifelong aca-
demic association ; but he was free from the academic bias, from
the narrowness of vision which sometimes overtakes the scholar.
He had a vigorous and independent mind, and unconventionality
attracted rather than repelled him. Those qualities which kept
many men of letters aloof from the author of Leaves of Grass
awakened Professor Carpenter's sympathy, and the best feature
of his brief biography is his interpretation of Whitman's view
of life and distinctive message to his time. The analysis of the
poet's philosophy and definition of the "cosmic conscious-
ness" as developed in Whitman is, in its clearness of state-
ment, a distinct contribution to the Whitman literature. The
idea comes from Dr. Bucke, who declares that " few of our race

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 289

and time have entered into this consciousness, but it is the highest
step in the same slow evolution that ripened the impersonal con-
sciousness of the animal into the self-conscious spirit of man." It
may be objected that Dr. Bucke is simply applying an imposing
name to a spiritual quality shared by nearly all men of vision, but
he desei*ves the credit of having localized, so to speak, a very vague
and indefinite activity of the mind, and Professor Carpenter has
found in it a key to Whitman's philosophy and to his art. The
expression of the poet's "chronic mystical perception" in his
verse and prose is emphasized as contributing to our knowledge of
Whitman's intellectual character and his manner of speech, and
the element of mysticism in his mind and work is clearly traced.
Professor Carpenter's estimate of Whitman is suggested by the
closing sentence of this biography : " He is .the first and most
notable of those who, in the nineteenth century, in Europe and
America, preached the vision of the world as love and comrade-
ship ; " and this biography is distinctly the best among the appre-
ciations of the poet that have appeared. Mr. Perry's biography
remains the best among the critical biographies. — The Outlook,
June 19, 1909.

(j) Kipling has performed one of the most important functions
of the poet — the function of interpreter to the nation. He has
revealed certain aspects of the national life, and made our people
understand themselves. In his Recessional Mr. Kipling has inter-
preted the feeling of the nation with an insight and a force which
are truly marvellous. Humble people all over the United King-
dom and the empire have during the Jubilee been deeply impressed
with a certain dread lest the rejoicings should be made an excuse
for boasting and vainglory, and that by its means the people's
heart should be turned from —

'' What makes a nation happy and keeps it so; "

to that perilous laudation of material things which, in the end, to
borrow Milton's phrase again —

". . . rains kingdoms and lays cities flat."

But to people in general this was only a vague uneasiness, a
dumb warning against the forgetting of the true meaning of the
Jubilee, Mr. Kipling has seized the nation's half-formed thought,

290 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

and, with a poet's insight and a poet's passion, has brought it forth
in conscious and coherent words. He takes the awe-inspiring
thought — what is all this but dust and ashes unless God is with
us till the end? and gives voice to the nation's dread — "Lest we
forget — lest we forget I "

** Far-called our navies melt away —

On dune and headland sinks the fire —

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday-
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Jadge of the Nations, spare us yet.

Lest we forget — lest we forget!

" If, drunk with the sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—-

Such' boasting as the Gentiles use
Or lesser breeds without the Law —

Lord Grod of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget — lest we forget! "

That, we venture to say, was the feeling in thousands of hearts.
But neither in the popular mind nor in the poem was this feeling
in any sense one of terror or unworthy abasement. It was but the
true reaction from the pomp and splendor — the sudden realization
that, after all, the only sacrifice worthy of God is " a humble and a
contrite heart." There was nothing wrong, nothing but what was
right and seemly, in the national thanksgiving to God, held amid
the shouts of the people and the pomp and circumstance of armed
men, so long, but only so long, as the nation remembered tliat it
must keep always the humble and contrite heart — the heart of
the man who prays for strength not to forget God in the loneliness
and isolation of his riches, his honors, and his power. He who
possesses everything that the material world can give, unless he is
" drowned in security," feels far more than the poor and humble
the necessity for help not to forget. " Lest I forget — lest I forget,'*
if he has a heart to feel, is the thought that masters him.

Just in the same way a nation, if it is sound at heart and not
" drowned in security," turns at the zenith of its strength and
power to the thought, "Lest we forget — lest we forget." The
fact that the better minds of the nation did feel this instant need
for the " ancient sacrifice" of " a iiumble and contrite heart," and

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 291

that the most virile, and, in a sense, the most untamed and least
reflective of our poets should have chosen it as his contribution to
our great tumult of rejoicing, is proof that we are still " God's Eng-
lishmen." Though we show in our turbulent strength so much of
the " heathen heart," and though we make the " frantic boast " and
utter the " foolish word," we have yet sense enough of what is our
place in the world to still pray the old prayer and to ask ** Thy
mercy on Thy people, Lord." In spite of all " the roaring and the
wreaths " we remember that it was not we ourselves but God who
gave us the dominion. Truly and in very deed the poet who can
bring home these things to the plain ordinary man has done the
nation as great a service as if he had worked for her with the
sword, had served her by day aiid night upon the sea, or had toiled
for her at the council board till, like Pitt, he sank overwhelmed
with cares not his own. — London Spectator.

20, — (Section 90) — Analyze the following essay. Make
an abstract of it. Then discuss its general method giving
citations to illustrate your assertions.

Aspirants hoping to obtain the party nomination from a national
convention may be divided into three classes, the two last of which,
as will appear presently, are not mutually exclusive, viz. Favorites,
Dark Horses, Farorite Sons.

A Favorite is always a politician well known over the Union,
and drawing support from all or most of its sections. He is a man
who has distinguished himself in Congress, or in the war, or in
the politics of some state so large that its politics are matter of
knowledge and interest to the whole nation. He is usually a per-
son of conspicuous gifts, whether as a speaker, or a party manager,
or an administrator. The drawback to him is that in making
friends he has also made enemies.

A Dark Horse is a person not very widely known in the country
at large, but known rather for good than for evil. He has probably
sat in Congress, been useful on committees, and gained some credit
among those who dealt with him in Washington. Or he has ap-
proved himself a safe and assiduous party man in the political
campaigns of his own and neighboring states, yet without reaching
national prominence. Sometimes he is a really able man, but

292 ASSIGNMENTS IN SUPPOSITION.

without the special talents that win popularity. Still, speaking
generally, the note of the Dark Horse is respectability, verging on
oolorlessness; and he is therefore' a good sort of person to fall back
upon when able but dangerous Favorites have proved impossible.
That native mediocrity rather than adverse fortune has prevented
him from winning fame is proved by the fact that the Dark Horses
who have reached the White House, even if they have seldom
turned out bad presidents, have even more seldom turned out
distinguished ones.

A Favorite Son is a politician respected or admired in his own
state, but little regarded beyond it. He may not be, like the Dark
Horse, little known to the nation at large, but he has not fixed its
eye or filled its ear. He is usually a man who has sat in the state
legislature ; filled with credit the post of state governor ; perhaps
gone as senator or representative to Washington, and there ap-
proved himself an active promoter of local interests. Probably he
possesses the qualities which gain local popularity — geniality,
activity, sympathy with the dominant sentiment and habits of his
state ; or while endowed with gifts excellent in their way, he has
lacked the audacity and tenacity which push a man to the front
through a jostling crowd. More rarely he is a demagogue who
has raised himself by flattering the masses of his state on some
local questions, or a skilful handler of party organizations who has
made local bosses and spoilsmen believe that their interests are safe
in his hands. Anyhow, his personality is such as to be more
effective with neighbors than with the nation, as a lamp whose
glow fills the side chapel of a cathedral sinks to a spark of light
when carried into the nave. — Bryce : American Commonwealth,

21. — (Section 90) — Analyze one of the essays named in
Appendix A, and write a report including (1) an abstract
of the essay; (2) a discussion of its general method;
(3) citations showing the special methods of exposition
used most often in the essay, and the kinds of paragraphs
employed.

22. — (Section 91) — Write a book review, following the
general plan of the outline given at the end of the chapter
on Exposition.

ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION. 293

23. — (Section 91) — Js the following explanation clear ?
If not, point out the cause of obscurity and rewrite in clear
and simple language.

Here we turD aside to consider a question which perhaps has
not often suggested itself, but which is, nevertheless, quite inter-
esting. Why can we hear, but not see around a corner? Some
may think that this question can be answered by saying that light
moves in a straight line, while sound does not. But this answer is
not satisfactory. It is known that light and sound are similar in
character ; each is due to the vibrations of a medium, and each
is transmitted in waves. Why, then, may not light spread around
a corner as well as sound? The answer is to be found in the dif-
ferent lengths of sound and light waves. Sound-waves themselves
are of different lengths, the graver sounds having waves of greater
length than the more acute. Now it can be shown mathematically
that the greater length of sound-waves will cause the sound to
be diffused around the obstruction. Hence the bass notes of a
band of music are heard more distinctly from behind a wall than
the higher notes ; and as the person moves out of the " acoustic
shadow " the more acute notes increase in distinctness. So, also,
when sound is transmitted through water the sound-waves are
shorter than in the air, and the " acoustic shadow " is fully formed.
As the length of sound-waves in the air is sometimes many feet,
while the length of the longest light wave is not more than
.0000266 of an inch, it is no longer a mystery why we can hear
but cannot see, .around a corner.

24. — (Section 91) — Explain to a high school student the
following comment on Longfellow's poetry : —

Two of these poems. The Psalm of Life and Excelsior ^ have
indeed paid the price of a too apt adjustment to the ethical mood
of that "earnest" moment in America. They were not so much
poems as calls to action, and now that two generations have passed,
those trumpets rust upon the wall. It is enough that they had
their glorious hour.

25. — (Section 91) — In the accompanying illustration
(Figure 7) the letters of the word "Life" appear to be

294 ASSIGNMENTS IN EXPOSITION.

tipped alternately to left and right, whereas, if we apply
the edge of a ruler to them, we shall discover that the parts
of the letters are precisely vertical or horizontal. Deter-
mine the cause of the illusion and write a careful explanation.

Figure 7.

26. — (Section 91) — Of the following passages the first
is said to contain three errors, the second four errors, in
alluding to the well-known story in the Arabian Nights.
Having read the original story point out the errors in the
allusions.

(a) She [Effie Deans] amused herself with visiting the dairy,
in which she had so long been assistant, and wai^ so near dis-
covering herself to May Hittly, by betraying her acquaintance
with the celebrated receipt for Dunlop cheese, that she compared
herself to Bedridden Hassan, whom the vizier, his father-in-law,
discovered by his superlative skill in composing cream-tarts with
pepper in them. — Scott : The Heart of Mid-Lothian, chap. XLIX.

(b) I ought to have remembered the pepper which the Princess
of Persia puts in the cream tarts in the " Arabian Nights."

— Thackeray : Vanity Fair, chap. HI.

ASSIGN MEITTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 295

Argumentation.

1. — (Section 92) — Are the following paragraphs exposi-
tory or argumentative ? What is the topic of each ? If the
paragraph is argumentative, what does it prove, and what
are the reasons given for the conclusion arrived at ?

(a) There can be no true civilization without liberal govern-
ment, and no liberal government without order, and no permanent
and reliable order with the disorderly at large. In this country,
where opportunity is unlimited, hberty and citizenship should be a
conditional right. The observance of order, and abstention from
crime, should be the conditions. Committing of crime should for-
feit liberty and the right to it ; the forfeiture to be set aside and
the right restored only on evidence that the offender has the abil-
ity and the will thenceforth to observe the conditions. There is
no use for a prison, other than to restrain and make harmless dis-
orderly and dangerous persons ; and it is immaterial whether they
l>e positively or negatively such. Within the prison, physical and
ethical forces only can properly govern. Restraint and industry
first, and the development by any practical means of orderly ele-
ments in the prisoner, as far as his capacities will permit, last. If
accomplished to the extent that he can be trusted with liberty,
give it to him. If not, keep him in restraint and in industry — if
capable. And this applies to every kind of restraint ; to benevolent
as well as to penal prisons — for they are all prisons in a strict
sense.

(b) The need of putting the Government into the savings-bank
business is not very apparent. The number of our banks has been
increased to such an extent that the facilities for putting away
savings are pretty good, except in some remote rural districts,
where there is perhaps not a great deal of demand for such insti-
tutions. The postoflSces in such communities are not very well
equipped to care for savings. It does not appear that the call for
postal savings comes from the circumference, but rather from the
center. It is true the English post-offices have done a good deal
of that sort of work, but they began it in 1861, before private sav-
ings-banks had made so much progress fts they have now done in

296 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

this country. In England the postal savings-banks pay only 2J
per cent interest, while in the United States the private savings
institutions pay 8 to 4 per cent. To compete with the private
banks our post-offices would probably be obliged to pay 4 per
<5ent.

(0) A good book ought to have a long life. If it is liked this
year there is no reason why it should not be liked ten years later,
for meantime the reading public has changed; that which plejlsed
the man of thirty will please the man who was only twenty when
the book was published. It is difficult to say whether this imper-
fect distribution and this haste and waste in the treatment of the
brain product are due to the method of publication, or to the rage
of the public for something new. It is true that the literary taste
changes in a generation or two, but we believe that it is the experi-
ence of publishers that a real book, which was popular a generation
ago, will have, if properly revived, as large an audience with the new
public as it had with the old. Books in this respect are like pic-
tures, there is always a public for the best, when the public has an
opportunity of seeing them. We believe that the publication of
good literature, adhered to, pushed, and advertised, would be more
profitable than the constant experiments with ephemeral trash ;
but it is useless to moralize about this ifa an age when there is such
a pressure for publication of new things, and there are such vast
manufactories which feel it a necessity to keep their hoppers full
of the grain of the new crop. It may be said, however, that if
there was anywhere a controlling desire to distribute good literature
rather than a manufacturer's notion of turning out any sort of
product of paper, type, and ink, the public would be the gainer.
And perhaps the publishers would find their account in a better
educated public taste. — Charles Dudley Warner.

(d) The nervous strain, the temptations, the dangers of cities,
are the theme of many a solemn discourse. The boys are exhorted
not to leave the farm, with its healthfulness, peace, and indepen-
dence, for a life of drudgery in shop or office, with intervals of fever^
ish and unwholesome excitement. But the boy usually prefers
to listen to the voices that call rather than to the voices that wartij
and it will probably never be otherwise, for the motives that send
him to the city are among the most powerful that human nature^

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION, 297

and especially the nature of the dominant races, knows. Till he
has learned the sad lesson of defeat, it is in vain to preach to a
man the blessings of peace. He loves strife rather, the chance to
measure his powers against those of his fellows. The very health
and strength that he has gained in the country inspire him with
confidence that he can hold his own in the battle. Why, he asks,
should he not become the famous lawyer, the bold financier, the
leader of men, rather than one of the failures in the great crowd
of undistinguished drudges of city life? Even if his ambition
soars not so high, he longs for a closer view of the great drama of
which he catches glimpses in the newspaper that reaches the farm
or village, to be an eye-witness of those wonderful events that are
related in its columns. Work, strife, pleasure, all are carried on
among those great aggregations of human beings at a high pres-
sure, and that will always be attractive in spite of all the warnings
of wisdom and experience.

2. — (Section 93) — What is the exact proposition discussed
in the following ? Make a careful analysis of the selection.

Obedience to Instructions,

My worthy colleague says, his will ought to be subservient to
yonrs. If that be all, the thing is innocent. If government were

298 A88I0NMENT8 IN ARGUMENTATION.

a matter of will upon any side, yours, without question, ought t^
be superior. But government and legislation are matters of
reason and judgment, and not of inclination ; and what sort of
reason is that, in which the determination precedes the discussion ;
in which one set of men deliberate, and another decide; and
where those who form the conclusion are perhaps three hundred
miles distant from those who hear the arguments?

To deliver an opinion, is the right of all men ; that of constit-
uents is a weighty and respectable opinion, which a representative
ought always to rejoice to hear ; and which he ought always most
seriously to consider. But authoritative instructions, mandates
issued, which the member is bound blindly and implicitly to obey,
to vote, and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest convic-
tion of his judgment and conscience, — these are things utterly
unknown to the laws of this land, and which arise from a funda-
mental mistake of the whole order and tenor of our constitution.

Parliament is not a congress of ambassadors from different and
hostile interests, which interests each must maintain, as an agent
and advocate, against other agents and advocates; but Parliament
is a deliberative assembly of one nation, with one interest, that of
the whole, — where not local purposes, not local prejudices, ought
to guide, but the general good, resulting from the general reason
of the whole. You choose a member, indeed ; but when you have
chosen him, he is not a member of Bristol, but he is a member of
Parliament If the local constituent should have an interest or
should form an hasty opinion evidently opposite to the real good
of the rest of the community, the member from that place ought
to be as far as any other from any endeavor to give it effect. I
beg pardon for saying so much on this subject ; 1 have been un-
willingly drawn into it ; but I shall ever use a respectful frankness
of communication with you. Your faithful friend, your devoted
servant, I shall be to the end of my life ; a flatterer you do not
wish for. On this point of instructions, however, I think it
scarcely possible we ever can have any sort of difference. Perhaps
I may give you too much, rather than too little trouble.

From the first hour I was encouraged to court your favor to this
happy day of obtaining it, I have never promised you anything but
humble and persevering endeavors to do my duty. The weight of
that duty, I confess, makes me tremble ; and whoever well con-

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 299

siders what it is, of all things in the world, will fly from what has
the least likeness to a positive and precipitate engagement. To be
a good member of Parliament is, let me tell you, no easy task, —
especially at this time, when there is so strong a disposition to ran
into the perilous extremes of servile compliance or wild popularity.
To unite circumspection with vigor is absolutely necessary, but it
is extremely difficult. We are now members for a rich commercial
city ; this city, however, is but a part of a rich commercial nation^
the interests of which are various, multiform, and intricate. We
are members for that great nation, which, however, is itself but
part of a great empire^ extended by our virtue and our fortune to
the farthest limits of the East and of the West. All these wade-
spread interests must be considered, — must be compared, — must
be reconciled, if possible. We are members for a free country ;
and surely we all know that the machine of a free constitution is
no simple thing, but as intricate and as delicate as it is valuable.
We are members of a great and ancient monarchy ; and we must
preserve religiously the true, legal rights of the sovereign, which
form the keystone that binds together the noble and well-con-
structed arch of our empire and our constitution. A constitution
made up of balanced powers must ever be a critical thing. As
such I mean to touch that part of it which comes within my
reach. I know my inability, and I wish for support from every
quarter. In particular I shall aim at the friendship, and shall
cultivate the best correspondence, of the worthy colleague you have
given me. — Burke : Speech to the Electors of Bristol.

3. — (Section 9S) — Compare the following arguments and
briefs : —

It is vehemently maintained by some writers of the present day
that Elizabeth persecuted neither Papists nor Puritans as such, and
that the severe measures which she occasionally adopted were dic-
tated, not by religious intolerance, but by political necessity. . . .
The title of the Queen, they say, was annulled by the Pope ; her
throne was given to another ; her subjects were incited to rebel-
lion; her life was menaced; every Catholic was bound in con-
science to be a traitor; it was, therefore, against traitors, not
against Catholics, that the penal laws were enacted. . . .

300 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

We will state as concisely as possible the substance of Bome
of these laws. As soon as Elizabeth ascended the throne, and before
the least hostility to her government had been shown by the Cath-
olic population, an act passed prohibiting the celebration of the
rites of the Romish church. . . .

A law was next made, in 1562, enacting that all who had ever
graduated at the universities or received holy orders, all lawyers
and magistrates, should take the oath of supremacy when tendered
to them. . . . After the lapse of three months ... if it were
again refused, the recusant was guilty of high treason. . . . What
circumstances called for this extraordinary rigor? There might be
disaffection among the Catholics. The prohibition of their worship
would naturally produce it. But it is from their situation, not from
their conduct, from the wrongs which they had suffered, not from
those which they had committed, that the existence of discontent
among them must be inferred. There were libels, no doubt, and
prophecies, and rumors, and suspicions; strange grounds for a law
inflicting capital penalties, ex post facto, on a large body of men. . . .

Eight years later, the bull of Pius deposing Elizabeth, produced
a third law. This law, to which alone, as we conceive, the defence
now under our consideration can apply, provides that if any Cath-
olic shall convert a Protestant to the Romish church, they shall
both suffer death as for high treason. ...

In the first place, the arguments which are urged in favor of
Elizabeth apply with much greater force to the case of her sister
Mary. The Catholics did not, at the time of Elizabeth's accession,
rise in arms to seat a Pretender on her throne. But before Mary
had given or could give provocation, the most distinguished Prot-
estants attempted to set aside her rights in favor of the Lady Jane.
That attempt, and the subsequent insurrection of Wyatt, furnished
at least as good a plea for the burning of Protestants as the con-
spiracies against Elizabeth furnish for the hanging and embowel-
ling of Papists.

The fact is that both pleas are worthless alike. If such argu-
ments are to pass current, it will be easy to prove that there never
was such a thing as religious persecution since the creation. Fot
there never was a religious persecution in which some odious crime
was not, justly or unjustly, said to be obviously deducible from
the doctrines of the persecuted party. We might say that the

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 301

i
Caesars did not persecute the Christians. . . . We might say that
the massacre of St. Bartholomew was intended to extirpate, not a
religious sect, but a political party. . . .

The measures of Queen Elizabeth were dictated, not by political
necessity, but by the spirit of persecution. Because

(A) The Catholics were not necessarily likely to commit treason.

For
1. Men do not follow their beliefs to their logical conclusions.
II. Men are not always likely to do what they believe it right
to do.

(B) The law prohibiting the celebration of , Romish rites was not

politically necessary. For
I. It was passed before hostility had been shown.

For

I. It was based purely on suspicion.
(/)) The law touching the conversion of a Protestant to Catholi-
cism was unnecessary. For

I. It punished not crime, but the holding of doctrines presum-
ably tending to crime.

A Prescription for Poverty,

Whatever the nature of the nostrum in modern therapeutics
proposed for the workingman, the best of all, if he did but know
it, is good, old-fashioned, honest industry. This has been seen to
work well in almost every instance where it has been honestly and
persistently tried ; and while, I believe, no other remedy can be
found to supersede this, I make bold to offer one, not as a panacea,
but a« a sort of helpmeet for the manly virtues of well-applied
industry. If the methods of the past are to be taken as the only,
preventives of poverty, we may well conclude the evil is incurable,
and the case of the poor man is indeed a hopeless one.

Let us look at one or two of these, the most promising and
prominent in the list of prescriptions. And first of all, our public
charities. Far from wishing to underrate or undervalue them, I
give them the full benefit of all they have achieved, and even of all
their founders have designed to achieve by them. And yet it is

302 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

t
obvious, thej are incapable, in the nature of things, of reaching
more than an infinitesimal portion of the suffering classes. The
great bulk of these classes are beyond their reach or relief.

Xext, let us examine for a moment, what has always been con-
sidered a wholesale remedy for the evils of poverty not only by
many philanthropists and publicists, but by a large number of the
sufferers themselves. I mean a forced and more equal distribution
of property among all classes of citizens. In ancient times such a
remedy was sought through the instrumentality of laws having
this object directly in view. But how far short these laws fell of
accomplishing it, the most superficial knowledge of history will
acquaint us. The tesulting advantages were more than out-
weighed by the resulting calamities.

In more recent things, while a few persons are found advocating
the passage of agrarian and sumptuary laws, most of those who
base similar reforms upon similar means, look for them through
the intervention of "labor strikes," "trades-unions," commercial
conventions and other organized efforts, having for their end con-
cessions and forced contributions from the wealthier to the poorer
classes. Even if it were possible of attainment, such is the struc-
ture of human society, or, we might better say, such is the condi-
tion of poor human nature itself, that the forced equilibrium of
wealth, if once effected, could be maintained only for the briefest
interval. For, by the law of individual and industrial activity,
this wealth would flow back into its accustomed channels whence
it had been but momentarily diverted.

Nothing can be plainer than that any compulsory division of
wealth or even an approximation to it through the machinery of
labor strikes and similar devices, even if it could be brought about,
is a delusion and a snare, and at best would serve only as a tempo-
rary make-shift, having no lasting effect, and seriously jeopardiz-
ing the interests of all concerned.

The great fundamental objection to all such methods of reform
is that they do not strike at the root of the evil, or rather they at-
tack it at the wrong point, and hence their gain, if there is any,
is only provisional and temporary.

Now the one thing needful to elevate the condition of the
laboring man, and rescue him from abject want or something
worse, is that while his wages shall be sufl&cient to purchase the

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 80S

necessaries of life, he shall not be obliged to expend them
all for these, but shall have surplus enough to procure him
some of the comforts and luxuries as well, and in addition to this
to accumulate a capital, little by little, which with proper in-
dustry and economy shall place him in a comparatively indepen-
dent position.

But this independence he cannot achieve, as we have seen,
through any of the avenues hitherto opened to him. He must
therefore try some other ; and if it can be found that the same
end which is sought in vain by means of an increase of wages can
be secured by another method which, if not so direct, is neverthe-
less more efficacious and more compensatory to the laboring classes,
a method that will not disturb the existing relations between
labor and capital, and which, when acquiesced in, will allay the
heaving billows^of strife and discontent that so often agitate the
surface of society, whenever questions of this nature come up for
settlement — if, 1 say, such a substitute can be found, it would
seem as if we were approaching a solution of the gravest social
problem of the day.

Such a solution, I contend, may be found, and almost all the
evils of poverty may be warded off, by reducing to their first cost
all those commodities that enter into the necessary daily subsist-
ence of mankind ; in other words, by a reduction to first cost of the
necessaries of life.

If such a result can be brought about, it is obvious that the
effect will be similar to that of an enhancement of the wages of
labor. For it matters not to the workingman whether the ad-
vantage he realizes comes directly from obtaining more money
for his labor, or from paying out less money for what he
is obliged to buy to support himself and his family. Thus,
if his weekly necessary expenses amount to fifteen dollars, and
he cannot provide for himself and family for less, he will just
as surely gain five dollars per week by being able to reduce his ex-
penses to ten dollars, as he would if he were to exact from his em-
ployer the additional sum of five dollars in wages. In the one
case he gains by saving what in the other case he would gain by
accretion or accumulation. And, further, if it can be shown that
these gains would be far greater under the system I advocate than
would be possible under the most successful strike for higher

804 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

wages, there is no good reason why it should not be adopted, pro-
vided it be compatible with justice, order, and more important
than all, with that higher destiny and condition of the human
family, which are foreshadowed by the march of improvement,
and by those laws, scarcely perceptible in their operation until
after long periods, which dominate and regulate social progress.

That all the necessaries of life ought to come to the .consumer
freighted with no more profit, cost, or expense than such as is ab-
solutely necessary to their production, seems, at first blush, like a
visionary proposition, and one incapable of practical application.
But viewed in the light of reason and common sense, it will be
found, I think, that no such character necessarily attaches to it,
and that this reproach upon it is due more to habit and prejudice
than to any well grounded apprehension.

What I call the necessaries of life are the air we breathe,
wholesome food and water, and sufficient fuel and clothing to
keep us warm. AH of these are essentially natural rights, just as
much, and in the same sense, as life itself, because without them
life itself is unendurable aftd impossible. That such is the charac-
ter of the first in the list, namely, the air we breathe, no one will
deny ; and to preserve it its purity, and to guard against any in-
fringement or monopoly of the right of using it, statutes have
been framed in all civilized communities. The same remarks will
apply in a more limited sense, to the water we drink. People are
prohibited, under severe penalties, from contaminating it, or turn-
ing it from its natural channels, or putting any restrictions on its
free use and enjoyment; and when, as in large towns and cities a
sufficient healthful supply cannot be obtained without expense,
that expense is reduced to first cost to all consumers.

A more pregnant and pertinent example than this of the prac-
tical application and utility of the doctrine here advocated cannot
well be imagined. Here is one of the necessaries of life, not more
important or conducive to our well-being than the rest, but fur-
nished to us more prodigally and with less labor than any of the
rest, with the exception of the atmosphere, hedged round with re-
strictive legislation, but by the general consent of mankind made
absolutely free, so far as possible, to the whole community. Where-
ever the individual consumer is incapable of procuring it, the mu-
nicipal autliorities or other corporate bodies furnish it, at first by

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 30S

the rudest and simplest contrivances, then through the agency of
reservoirs and aqueducts, so that no single family or inhabitant
shall be deprived of it, and always at a cost not to exceed the ex-
pense of bringing it within their reach. Hence, nothing is cheaper
than the water supply of cities, and no one ever thinks of com-
plaining of it as an unnecessary burden. But suppose it came to
us saddled with the same charges as our flour, or bacon, or fuel,
how prompt would be the instinct to murmur and rebel against it.
First would come the charges, dictated by some arbitrary standard
of value, of whomsoever should happen to be the owner of the
supply, next those of the purchaser from the owner, who might
be called the wholesale ^ealer, next those of the speculator in the
article, and lastly the profits of the retail dealer, who dispenses it
to his customers — thus passing from the original source of supply
through a multitude of hands, and burdened with an accumulation
of profits and expenses that would double and treble the cost to
the consumer, as compared with its present mode of distribution
and delivery. And yet so far as our natural right to them is con-
cerned, our food and our fuel stand on precisely the same founda-
tion as the water we drink.

The only difference between the rationale of our water supply
and of our food supply is that nature, being more lavish of the one
tlian of the other, has furnished it ready-made to our hands, so to
speak, while the other has to be submitted to certain industrial
processes in its production, before it can be accommodated to our
use. But this difference being accidental only as to their origin or
production, ought not to make any difference with respect to their
distribution and supply ; and provided a proper equivalent is paid
to those who produce our food, the difference in question entirely
disappears, and thus the article of food and the article of beverage
stand on the same footing, and no legal or other discrimination
ought to be made in favor of either.

To illustrate the argument a little further : suppose nature sup-
plied us the means for satisfying our hunger with the same prod-
igal hand, and with as little expense as she supplies the means for
satisfying our thirst, or, in other words, suppose the prime cost of
the one were no greater than the prime cost of the other, there
would then be no good and valid reason why the distribution and
supply of food and drink to each individual should not be con-

306 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

ducted on the same principle of cheapness and economy. Ijet
those "who raise our food receive for it a remuneration sufficient to
pay them a reasonable profit for their industry, and the two com-
modities become identical in respect to every succeeding step in
the progress of reaching the consumer; and thereafter every pref-
erence or protection shown to the one more than to the other,
every hindrance or obstruction thrown in the way of the one more
than the other, would be an unjust and odious discrimination,
palpably inconsistent, and involving the most serious consequences
to the well-being of the poorer classes.

What has been said touching our social claim to protection
against hunger will apply equally well to that of protecting our-
selves against cold. As sacred rights, which every one who comes
into the world inherits with the very breath of life itself, they
ought to come to us unshackled from every interference with 1/heir
free use and enjoyment. Every limitation upon them is a hard-
ship which every good government will make as light as possible,
especially seeing that it falls with the heaviest hand upon those
members of the community who are the least able to bear it, and
who, at the same time, contribute the largest share of the public
expenses. If the State undertakes to guard against the infliction
of heavy burdens upon any one of our natural rights, there is no
reason why it should withold protection from the rest. If light,
air, and water are permitted to enter our dwellings, free from exac-
tions, why should not the same privilege be awarded to food and
fuel, which are equally necessary to existence, and clothed with
the same natural sanctions ? The only answer to this is that in
most civilized countries, nature has supplied a sufficiency or a
superfluity of the one class of gifts, without the application of arti-
ficial means to make them available for use. But does this afford
any sufficient pretext for inflicting a variety of burdens upon the
other class, before they reach the consumer? On the contrary,
ought they not to stand exempt from further taxation, provided a
reasonable profit is first paid the producer? It seems to me that
the simple statement of such a proposition as this is all the argu-
ment needed to sustain it.

The next question that arises for consideration is : In what way,
or by what machinery, shall the present cost of necessaries be re-
duced ftn4 regulated as between the producer and consumer?

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 807

How shall the large army of middle-men and " operators " who im-
pose the bulk of the burdens on the consumer, be got rid of?
Without assuming or insisting on legislation or State interference
as the only or best remedy, or as a full solution of the difficulty, it
is a curious coincidence, and one that may go far towards solving
the question, that the hand of legislative reform has already been
laid upon a kindred subject, and is at present stirring up society
to its depths. Both in Europe and America, the position has been
assumed that the different methods of public transportation may
be coerced into such a reduction of rates both for travel and traffic
as is consistent with the general welfare of the people. The appli-
cation of this principle with respect to railroads has become a
familiar part of the history of the times : and a notable instance
of its farther extension is to be observed in the great State of New
York, while by popular vote the whole system of tolls upon their
canals has been abolished, and these great and important highways
have been declared to be open to the free and unrestricted use of
commerce, without any expense to the people other than what is
required to keep them in a proper state of repair, and this expense
to be maintained by general taxation.

Now canals and railroads and other public modes of transporta-
tion, while among the most important factors in modern civiliza-
tion, are not essential to its spread and existence. More than this,
they are not an essential ingredient in our happiness, and so far
from having the characteristics of a " necessary " institution, they
might be blotted out entirely, without destroying our happiness.
Nevertheless, they are so interwoven with our present social needs
and interests that their loss or absence would be a serious injury ;
and hence they may properly be classed, along with artificial light,
domestic animals, and other objects of similar utility, in the cata-
logue of quasi necessaries.

It would be a curious subject of thought and one rich in mate-
rial for reflection to the speculative philosopher to inquire how it
happens that the remedy here prescribed for the pains of poverty
among the working classes has been taken up by political reformers,
and applied successfully to a grievance not to be compared in the
severity with those I have been considering, and one that, in nat-
ural order of things, ought to be postponed to the others. For it re-
quires little sagacity to see that it is of far greater consequence, in

808 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

the beginning, to mankind at large to have the necessaries of life
cheapened to them in their production, distribution, and supply,
than in the single article of their transportation, though all oi
these ends are important ; and that it were better, all things con-
sidered, to commence the process of reform by cutting down or
cutting off the exorbitant charges that are added to the first cost
of production, since a much greater saving would accrue to the
community at large and particularly to the poor man than is pos-
sible under any system of retrenchment in freight rates.

The reason why this anomaly and first step in legislation have
taken the direction they have, is doubtless due, in great part, to the
fact that the enormous fortunes made at the public expense, of late
years, by the railroad companies, and others engaged in the business
of transportation, being more conspicuous examples of individual
selfishness and rapacity than the fortunes almost as large and more
numerous acquired by speculators in the necessaries of life, have
earlier directed the attention of the public to this subject. We
have become accustomed, from long endurance of it, to the older
and greater abuse, which has extended its ramifications into all the
avenues of trade and commerce, while the later one has been lifted
into sudden prominence by the dazzling prizes it has held out to
the comparatively few who have seized upon them; just as in
cases of insidious attacks and prostration by disease, while the most
fatal symptoms have been overlooked, diagnosis has been directed to
those only which appear on the surface.

If therefore no other modus operandi for meeting the difficulty
before us was practicable or available, we have one ready made to
hand in the means devised for checking exorbitant charges upon
the public lines of transportation. Whether, as before observed,
this ia the wisest or the best method, being compulsory, it is prob-
ably the surest and most effectual. For no amount of persuasion
or of appeals to the reason or the conscience of those engaged in
trafficking in the necessaries of life is going to make them abate one
jot or- tittle of their demands. Then they can plead in their favor
prescriptive right and the consent of the ages. The pound of flesh
has been so long exacted, they have lost sight and thought of the
blood. And if restrictive legislation is necessary to thwart the
combinations and conspiracies of railroad companies, how much
more necessary to thwart the mercenary designs of those who

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 309

traffic in the very life-blood of the people ; can it be said, with
any show of reason, that the knife of reform is needed in the one
case, and not in the other ? What is the little fraction of expense
saved by a reduction in railroad rates, compared with that immense
average that would be saved to the poor man, provided the ex-
penses of his daily living were cut down to prime cost? Is it not
of far more consequence to him that the staples himself and family
are obliged to use, in order to keep soul and body together, should
be exempt from the heavy market rates they have to pay for them,
by reason of their passing through so many different hands, than
that a slight additional cost should be added to their transporta-
tion? And the classes engaged in this vital traffic — what better
right have they to claim exemption from legal restraints and regu-
lations than those who would, if they could, impose even a heavier
tariff upon this transportation, or those who would, if they could,
make merchandise out of the very air we breathe or the water we
drink?

It may be urged, with a considerable show of reason, that the
remedy herein advocated does not properly fall within the scope of
governmental control; and if the views of many sociologists,"
among whom may be mentioned the honored name of Herbert
Spencer — a name which, in my opinion, stands first among the
great thinkers of the century — were to be taken as final on the
subject, some different agency from that which belongs to the
functions of a legislature would have to be devised, to carry out
the reform in question. But in answer to this, I submit that all
or nearly all that has been said or written against the protective
and paternal spirit of legislation applies almost exclusively to
governments founded on a different principle from ours — to
governments where there is a ruling class as well as a ruled, to be
provided for, and where the mainspring of action is far from being
the welfare of the people at large. Popular governments through
individual representatives are, in theory at least, like a large cor-
poration acting through its agents ; and though in practice the
principal is often misrepresented and the delegated authority
abused, yet the ends of society, in any given age, are as well car-
ried out by such governments as they can be, under the existing
limitations of men's reason, conscience, and condition; since, to
quote the high authority I have just mentioned, " Out of no form

310 ASSIGNMENTS IN ABOUMENTATION.

of government can be expected a capacity and a rectitude greatei
than those of the society out of which it grows." Hence the power
to inaugurate great and needed reforms in a republic — reforms
looking to a wide departure from past expedients and experiments,
may be safely intrusted to the hands of the legislature. If it cannot
be lodged there, it would seem as if it cannot be lodged anywhere ;
it would seem as if the reforms, though ever so imperatively
demanded by the people, and crying aloud for recognition and
accomplishment, would be like the voice of one crying out in the
wilderness. — William Brackett.

Introduction : —

(-4) Specifics for poverty have hitherto been failures.
I. Public charities reach but a small number.
II. Enforced equality of property-distribution has been tried
and has failed.
(a) In ancient times by agrarian laws.
(h) In modern times through strikes or conciliation.

(B) Any gain through these specifics is only partial, provisional,

and temporary.

the bare subsistence point.

Brief Proper : —

Proposition: — The prescription for poverty consists in reduc-
ing to first cost the necessaries of subsistence, which would be
equivalent to raising wages.
{A) This is already true of municipalized water-supply, light, and

air, the first three necessaries.
{B) It should be made true of food, fuel, and clothing, the other
necessaries of life. For
I. These are essential rights like the others.
II. Like the others these shoidd enter our homes free of un-
necessary exactions.
(C) If necessary, compulsory legislation should be employed to
get rid of middle-men and operators. For
I. An exact parallel in successful legislation is seen in the
transportation laws.

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 311

II. Laws regulating production and distribution are vastly
more essential to the protection of natural rights than
are transportation laws.

Condtbsion : —

(A) The objection that the remedy suggested does not fall within
the scope of governmental control fails. For
I. It is inconsistent with the theory of popular government.

4. — (Section 9S) — Organize the following notes into a
logical brief. Then make a brief in refutation.

The city is the best place for a college.

1. There are plenty of temptations everywhere. All depends on

individual character.

2. Living in a city is an education in itself.

3. Citizenship can be learned only in a city.

4. Most students will have to live in cities after they leave

college.

5. An education in engineering, law, or medicine, cannot be had

in a country college.

6. The city college cannot isolate itself from the world.

7. The country college offers temptations as well as the city

college.

8. The country college offers fewer chances for self-support than

the city affords.

9. City students learn more of manners, society, industrial strife,

politics.

10. The professors in a city college are closer to practical life.

1 1. The city college is not more expensive.

12. The worst lawlessness is not in the city college.

13. An engineering student must have a city for his laboratory.

14. There are lectures, eminent preachers, fine music, and good

architecture in the city.

6. — (Section 95) — Determine the proposition in the fol-
lowing and organize the material into a brief.

Who was Junius ? An English scholar writing to The London
Standard points out that the Franciscan theory of Junius has

312 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION^

received a great shock, since no proof whatever in support of it has
been found either in the newly published Francis Letters or in the
autobiography of the Duke of Grafton, that appeared in 1898.
" Junius's correspondence with Wilkes," says this writer, " estab-
lishes indubitably that he was ... a man of ^ mature age.' Dr.
Mason Good, who was the editor of the first edition of Junius
containing his private letters, was also of the opinion that Junius

* must have attained an age which would allow him without vanity to
boast an ample experience and knowledge of the world.* In Pri-
vate Letters, No. 44, Junius solemnly asserted he had * a long ex-
perience of the world.' In No. 77, Junius refused Wilkes's invita-
tion to the Lord Mayor's ball, because * my age and my figure would
do but little credit to my partner.' Under the nom de guerre of
'Amicus Curiae,' Junius declared that he was an old reader of
political controversy, and that he remembered *the Walpolean
battles.' But how, then, can Philip Francis have been Junius?

* The Walpolean battles ' that Junius declared he remembered be-
gan long before Francis was born, and must have completely termi-
nated when Francis was an infant of three years of age. I have
advocated in The Westminster Review and The New Century Review
the theory that Lord Chesterfield was Junius, not only because of
his advanced age, but also because Chesterfield was at that date a
most practised controversialist. Previously to the appearance of
the Letters of Junius, in 1760 and in 1768, Chesterfield used a char-
acteristic phrase of Junius, * Hospital of Incurables ' (Letter 68,
ad fin.), both in public and private writings. The theory that
Chesterfield was Junius seems confirmed by the fact that Junius
initialled his private letters * C

" The theory is strictly consistent also with what is universally
admitted, that Junius was a man of affluence. It is also consistent
with the many passages in which Junius hints, if he does not in
terms assert, that he possessed rank as well as fortune. In Letter
54, Junius, addressing *The Printer of The Public Advertiser,*
declared that, * You, sir, may be satisfied that my rank and fortune
place me above a common bribe.' "

An interesting part of this letter is the statement at the end :
"I have received unsolicited information to the effect that the
secret of the authorship is still being kept in a certain titled fam-
ily, who will be equally bound at a future date to divulge it. But

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 813

I have to say, like Pitt, that my information is quite inconsistent
with Francis having been Junius." — New York Tribune, May 5,
1907.

6. — (Section 95) — Organize the following material into a
brief. Then make a brief in refutation.

You are surprised to learn that I have not a high opinion of Mr.
Jefferson, and I am surprised at your surprise. I am certain that
I never wrote a line, and that I never in Parliament, in conversa-
tion, or even on the hustings — a place where it is the fashion to
court the populace — uttered a word indicating an opinion that the
supreme authority in a state ought to be intrusted to the majority
of citizens told by the head ; in other words, to the poorest and
most ignorant part of society. I have long been convinced that
institutions purely democratic must, sooner or later, destroy liberty
or civilization, or both. In Europe, where the population is dense,
the effect of such institutions would be almost instantaneous.
What happened lately in France is an example. In 1848 a pure
democracy was established there. During a short time there was
reason to expect a general spoliation, a national bankruptcy, a new
partition of the soil, a maximum of prices, a ruinous load of taxa-
tion laid on the rich for the purpose, of supporting the poor in idle-
ness. Such a system would, in twenty years, have made France as
poor and barbarous as the France of the Carlovingians. Happily,
the danger was averted, and now there is a despotism,^ a silent
tribune, an enslaved press. Liberty is gone, but civilization has
be6n saved. I have not the smallest doubt that if we had a purely
democratic government here the effect would be the same. Either
the poor would plunder the rich, and civilization would perish ; or
order and prosperity would be saved by a strong militaiy govern-
ment, and liberty would perish. You may think that your country
enjoys an exemption from these evils. I will frankly own to you
that I am of a very different opinion.' Your fate I believe to be
certain, though it is deferred by a physical cause. As long as you
have a boundless extent of fertile and unoccupied land, your labor-
ing population will be far more at ease than the laboring jKjpula-
tion of the Old World, and, while that is the case, the Jefferson
politics may continue to exist without causing any fatal calamity.
But the time will come when New England will be as thickly

314 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

peopled as Old England. Wages will be as low, and will fluctuate
as much with you as with us. You will have your Manchesters
and Birminghams, and in those Manchesters and Birminghams
hundreds of thousands of artisans will assuredly be sometimes out
of work. Then your institutions will be fairly brought to the test.
Distress everywhere makes the laborer mutinous and discontented,
and inclines him to listen with eagerness to agitators who tell him
that it is a monstrous iniquity' that one man should have a million,
while another cannot get a full meal. In bad years there is plenty
of grumbling here, and sometimes a little rioting. But it matters
little. For here the sufferers are not the rulers. The supreme power
is in the hands of a class, niimerous indeed, but select ; of an educated
class ; of a class which is, and knows itself to be, deeply interested in
the security of property and the maintenance of order. Accordingly,
the malcontents are firmly yet gently restrained. The bad time
is gone over without robbing the wealthy to relieve the indigent.
The springs of national prosperity soon begin to flow again; work
is plentiful, wages rise, and all is tranquillity and cheerfulness. I
have seen England pass three or four times through such critical
seasons as I have described. Through such seasons the United
States will have to pass in the course of the next century, if not of
this. How will you pass through them ? I heartily wish you a
good deliverance. But my reason and my wishes are at war, and
I cannot help foreboding the worst. It is quite plain that your
government will never be able to restrain a distressed and discon-
tented majority. For with you the majority is the government,
and has the rich, who are always a minority, absolutely at its
mercy. The day will come when in the State of New York, a
multitude of people, none of whom has had more than half a
breakfast, or expects to have more than half a dinner, will choose
a Legislature. Is it possible to doubt what sort of a Legislature
will be chosen ? On one side is a statesman preaching patience,
respect for vested rights, strict observance of public faith. On the
other is a demagogue ranting about the tyranny of capitalists and
usurers, and asking why anybody should be j)ermitted to drink
champagne and to ride in a carriage, while thousands of honest
folks are in want of necessaries. Which of the two candidates is
likely to be preferred by a working-man who hears his children cry
for more bread ? I seriously apprehend that you will, in some

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 315

such seasoD of adversity as I have described, do things which will
prevent prosperity from returning; that you will act like people
who should in a year of scarcity devour all the seed-corn, and thus
make the next a year not of scarcity, but of absolute famine.
There will be, I fear, spoliation. The spoliation will increase the
distress. The distress will produce fresh spoliation. There is
nothing to stop you. Your constitution is all sail and no anchor.
As I said before, when a society has entered on this downward
progress, either civilization or liberty must perish. Either some
Caesar or Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a
strong hand, or your republic will be as fearfully plundered and
laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth century as the Roman
Empire was in the fifth ; with this difference, that the Huns and
Vandals who ravaged the Roman Empire came from without, and
that your Huns and Vandals will have been engendered within
your own country by your own institutions. — Lord Macaulay, in
Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Macaulay, vol. 2, pp. 408-410. •
7. — (Section 9S) — Criticise the following briefs: —
Standing armies are a real benefit to a nation. Because
{A) They inculcate national pride. For

I. Men, like brutes, glory in their might. For
(a) Combat determines the fittest. For

1. England conquered the Boer.

2. Russia triumphed over the Pole.

(B) They improve the morals of communities. For

I. The army is a refuge for an undesirable class. For
(a) New York raised a regiment of bowery " bouncers "
and " wharf rats."

n. Armies remove that awful surplus from the public treasury.
III. Armies consume the many home contributions that would
otherwise fatten foreign missionaries.

Labor-saving machines do not drive men out of work.
Introduction :

1. When there were no such machines

(a) Poor people were deprived of many luxuries.

(b) The laborer was more like a slave.

316 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

Discussion : —

1. When machines were introduced

(a) The product became cheaper.

(b) More skilled men were required.

other purposes.

2. Men receive better pay for their work and work shorter hours,
(a) They are no longer slaves, but mechanics.

Conclusion : —

It takes more men to build and run the machinery than it took
laborers before the machines were introduced.

Should cities cum their own street railways ?

Introduction : —
I. The following statements show that our system of street rail-
ways should be improved : —

(.4) There is an insufficient number of cars run in most
cities.

(B) As a result passengers often have to stand.

(C) Business in the crowded portions of cities is impaired.
II. These facts prove that cities should be well provided for in

the way of street cars.
(A) The lack of cars hinders city growth, inasmuch as

(1) Cities grow very rapidly in their suburbs.

(2) These suburbs cannot grow without a good line

of cars.
III. Since in order to prosper, cities must have an up-to-date
system of railways, the question is whether the cities them-
selves should own their own lines, or leave their control to
private corporations.

Brief Proper : —

Cities should own their own street railways. For
I. It would not be an experiment. For

(-4) Municipal ownership has been in force not only in

European countries but throughout the United States

for half a century at least.

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION . 317

II. It has been successful in other countries. For

(A) In the majority of cases in Great Britain it has bene-

fited not only the body of ratepayers, but also the
tramway employees.
(5) It has proved efficient, economical, and satisfactory to
the people.

(D) In Glasgow it has bettered the condition of the laborer

inasmuch as

1. It has increased facilities.

2. It has bettered service.

3. It has raised wages and lowered fares.
in. Municipal ownership lowers fares. For

(^) In controlling its own system of transportation, the city
has its own interests at heart, and consequently can
afford to reduce the fares.

(B) When Glasgow took over the tramways, fares were re-

duced one-third and reductions have continued until
now the fare is one-half the average fare collected by
the private company half a dozen years ago.

rV. It would improve the condition of the people. For

(A) The profits of a public enterprise go to the people and

not into the pockets of a few.
(jB) It would relieve communities from corrupting relations
with men of wealth. For

1. Under public operation they would have no interests

at stake except as taxpayers.

2. As taxpayers they would desire efficient administra-

tion.
V. It would purify the government. For

(A) It would stamp out public corruption.

(B) It would produce a more democratic spirit. For

1. All would work together to make it a success.

2. All would strive for the public safety.

3. More impartiality would be shown in the treatment

of passengers.

318 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

Refutation : —

I. It is asserted that manicipal ownership is a failure in Euro-
pean cities, but this is not true. For
(v4) Statistics show that in Great Britain, Germany, Glas-
gow, and the most important countries it has been
highly successful.
(jB) In Great Britain and Ireland one hundred and forty-two
municipalities own their own street car lines,
n. It does not increase the debt of a community. For

(il) People would patronize a public enterprise more liber-
ally than a private one. For

1. It would be concerned with their interests.

2. It would cause wealth to be more evenly distributed.

For
(a) It would go to the public good and not into the
pockets of a few.
III. It does not stultify enterprise. For
{A) It promotes ambition. For

1. It provides better service for all-

2. It keeps pace with the times.

W, It would not place control in the hands of the city council.
For
(i4) Corruption exists only where the means of temptation
exist.

(B) The municipal council would become largely an execu-

tive body.

away. For
1. There would be nobody to bribe it.
V. It would not weaken the condition of the city. For
(A) It would produce better service.
{B) It would lower rates, and at the same time raise wages.

standard.

(D) It would purify the government in every respect.

Conclusion : —

Since municipal ownership does not lower wages and raise taxes^
and since it would improve the condition of the people and purify

ASSIGNMENTS IN AMQUMJSNTATlON. 819

our governments ; and since the objections that it has been a fail-
ure in Europe, that it would raise the debt of a communit}^ would
stultify enterprise, and place control in the hands of the city coun-
cil are not true, cities should own their own street railways.

8. — (Sections 96-106) — What kinds of arguments are
used in the following briefs?

Judas was not a villain. Because

(A ) His conduct was inconsistent with that of such a character.
For

I. Money, the only motive alleged, could not have been the
reason for his act. For

(a) As holder of the common purse he might have

stolen much, but did not.

(b) The bribe (thirty pieces) was too small in amount.

(B) His previous character must have been good. For

I. The Lord had selected him as one of the twelve.
II. Nothing is recorded of his previous life to warrant sus-
picion.
III. The Lord's statement at the Last Supper was a state-
ment of fact, not an accusation.

lain. For

I. He expected to compel his Lord to reveal his omnipotent

power when arrested.
11. He hanged himself, when his plan failed, from remorse
at its failure. For
(a) It could not have been from fear of man's law.
For
1. He had acted in accordance with the law of the
land.
(6) It could not have been from fear of divine ven-
geance. For

1, Hanging himself would put him immediately

in the way of receiving it.

2. Hanging himself committed him unreservedly

to the divine mercy.

320 ASSIGKMSNTa IN AUGU MENTATION.

3. Hanging himself was an acknowledgment of an
awful mistake of judgment, not of guilt.

The break between North and South was caused by
federal acts. Because

(A) By federal acts the South was excluded from access to the
common territory. For
I. By the Ordinance of 1787 it was excluded from the Old

Northwest.
n. By the Missouri Compromise it was excluded from
territory north of 36° 30'.
in. By the Oregon Bill it was excluded from that terri-
tory.
IV. By the Mexican Treaty it was excluded from territory
thus acquired.
(jB) Federal tariff and immigration bills were universally dic-
tated by northern interests and were hostile to the South.
(C) Federal, judicial, and executive decisions were uniformly
favorable to the North and hurtful to the South.

The product of an author's thought should receive inter-
national protection. Because
(A) All property should receive international protection. For

1. Property protection is a fundamental law of society. For

(a) A man has the right to protect his own property.

(b) He is entitled to protection from his government.

2. Some property^ now receives international protection.
(jB) The product of an author's thought is property. For

1. It has value as the result of labor.

2. Every government recognizes it as such, of its own citizens.
(C) Other than international protection is insufficient.

1. The example of Uncle Tom*s Cabin shows this to be so.

2. The example of Bancroft's United States proves it.

9. — (Sections 96-106) — What kind of reasoning or argu-
ment is used in the following ?

(a) Great writers make poor husbands. Think of Burns,
Byron, Carlyle, and Shelley.

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 321

(b) I fear a storm. Last night the moon had a ring around it,
and to-night there is no moon.

(d) The man sitting next to me is having a hard time answer-
ing the examination questions. He bites his pencil ; he does not
write ; he looks steadily at the floor.

(e) The government already exercises a censorship over plays
with a view to morality. Why should it not oversee the construc-
tion of novels with a view to artistic construction ?

(/) An engineer declares that a certain bridge must come
down.

(g) A merchant inspects a lot of goods and later buys them.

(h) A doctor is called in.

(i) A drover inspects and later buys a lot of cattle.

(/) A critic decides the personal character of Shakespeare from
his works.

(k) A student has written a poor examination paper and proves
that he has received bad news from home just before examination
began, and that his work during the term has been good.

10. — {Sections 96-106) — What kind of reasoning is in-
volved in each of the following ?

(a) Scudery on his way to Paris with his sister was planning
with her a new novel. Stopping for the night at Aix, they went on
with the discussion in their room. Should they stab the hero or
poison him? One of the inn servants, overhearing, denounced
them to the police. The Scud^rys were arrested and imprisoned —
and of course acquitted.

(b) Not so very long ago a safe expert was summoned from this
city all the way to Mexico, with his expenses paid, in order to
open a time lock safe in which the mechanism had stopped. He
travelled for six days and then went straight to the office in Mexico
City whither he had been summoned. He walked once around the
safe, ascertained the character of the lock, and then rigged up a
tripod and had the safe swung dear of the floor. He gave it a

322 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

gentle push, the clock began to tick, and the expert travelled back
to this city richer by a handsome fee.

(c) King Richard Lion-heart, wrecked off the coast of Dal-
matia on his return from Palestine, fell into the hands of Leopold
of Austria, whom he had mortally offended in the Holy Land.
Henry II bought him of Leopold, and kept him prisoner in the
castle of Trifels, for Richard was heir to the English throne.
Blondel the minstrel, his favorite, went in quest of him from castle
to castle all over Europe. At last, on some vague surmise, stopping
at the foot of the fortress rock of Trifels, Blondel began to sing a
lay that they two had composed together. From within a voice
finished the couplet. Richard was found. Not long afterward he
was ransomed.

(d) A humble beginning predicts unusual success in life. Jay
Gould was a book agent. Benjamin Franklin was a printer.
Hill began as a roustabout. Lincoln was a rail-splitter. John
Wanamaker began life at ^1.25 a week. Edison was a telegraph
operator. Rockefeller worked in a machine shop.

11. — {Sections 101-106) — Kame the arguments used in
the following. Reduce to syllogistic form. Suggest a
method of refutation.

(a) At one time during the civil war there was great dissatis-
faction throughout the north with certain generals in the union
army. Many of Lincoln's admirers were urging him to make
radical changes. But the President's ever ready argument was,
" It is not wise to swap horses in the middle of the stream." *

(b) In Yorkshire, England, some years ago a traveller, having
in his pocket certain marked coins, was attacked in the early
morning, murdered, and robbed. Later in the day coins of this
peculiar stamp were found on the person of a servant at an inn in
the vicinity. This servant was unable to account for his posses-
sion of the money and on this evidence was tried, convicted, and
hanged.

(c) " But how do you know," Aunt Susanna suspiciously asked,
** that he is such a artist when, as he says, he might mebbe be a
sharper ? "

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION, 323

" I can tell a good bit by guess. He looks it so. It's plain *at
him is one of these here drawin* fellers. He has such a painty
beard and his hair is near as long as us Amish wear ouru."

(d) " Csesar had his Brutus, Charles I. his Cromwell, and George
HI. may profit by their example."

(e) The lioness nurseth her whelps, the raven cherisheth her
birds, the viper her brood, and shall a woman cast away her babe ?

(f) It can safely be predicted that should the foolish " anti-tip '*
law be enacted it will remain a dead letter and soon be utterly
forgotten. However, the tipping practice is not a crime, and the
criminal courts can employ their time much more profitably dis-
posing of murderers and highwaymen of which there is a super-
abundance than by wasting it on tipping cases.

(g) I have always found that the visits of bees are necessary
for the fertilization of some kinds of clover. For instance, twenty
heads of Dutch clover yielded 2290 seeds, but twenty other heads
protected from bees yielded not one. Again, 800 heads of red
clover produced 2700 seeds, but the same number of protected
heads produced not a single seed.

(h) No man has ever in this country accumulated by his own
labor as much as a half million dollars in a whole lifetime ; no
man can do it now. Yet you see individuals owning ten millions,
twenty millions, even hundreds of millions of dollars each. You
see corporations owning as much or more. These vast fortunes
were not earned by the labor of those who own them ; they were
given to those who own them by legislation, by the enactment of
laws which so operated as to give to the few riches without labor,
and this is important to the many who do labor, because every
dollar so given by legislation to the few is a dollar that some other
man's labor has created, and a dollar that properly and naturally
belongs to the man who made it. Therefore, such legislation is
important to the laborer and the producer, and it is important
to the laborer or producer whether he call himself a Democrat or
a Republican, for the fruits of Republican labor as well as the
fruits of Democratic labor are taken by legislation to swell the
fortunes of the trust managers.

324 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION,

(i) Men who undertake considerable things, even in a regular
way ought to give us ground to presume ability. But the physi-
cian of the state, who, not satisfied with the cure of distempers,
undertakes to regu^te constitutions, ought to show uncommon
powers.

(j) It has become fashionable of late to relate the small weak-
nesses, and in some instances the large, as seen in conspicuous char-
acters. Parton has given us the unfavorable side of Hamilton ;
Burr has been a particular mark to aim at; Washington has not
escaped ; and we are now to have such a portraiture of Franklin.

(k) No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural
body nor politic ; and certainly to a kingdom or estate, a just and
honorable war is true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the
heat of a fever, but a foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and
serveth to keep the body in health.

(1) They fired, for there was nothing else to do but fire. The
very way in which they fired, a few scattering shots and then a
volley, shows vividly how they waited and waited, loath to use
the last force until they were absolutely compelled to do so. Had
they not fired, no one can say what might have happened. We
can only point to the example of the great strike in Pittsburg in
1885. There the militia weakly hesitated to fire, and their hesi-
tation cost some of them their lives and lost them control of the
city. They were driven out by the rioters, and before law and
order could be restored by the regular troops ten million dollaro'
worth of property had been destroyed by pillage and arson.

12. — (Sections 101, 10&) — What fallacy is pointed out
in tlie following? How is it refuted?

(a) Language, then, is the spoken means whereby thought is
communicated, and it is only that. Language is not thought, nor
is thought language ; nor is there a mysterious and indissoluble
connection between the two, as there is between soul and body, so
that the one cannot exist and manifest itself without the other.
There can hardly be a greater and more pernicious error, in lin-
guistics or in metaphysics, than the doctrine that language and
thought are identical. It is, unfortunately, an error often com-

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 826

mitted, both by linguists and by metaphysicians. " Man speaks
because he thinks" is the dictum out of which more than one
scholar has proceeded to develop his system of linguistic philoso-
phy. The assertion, indeed, is not only true , but a truism ; no
one can presume to claim that man would speak if he did not
think : but no fair logical process can derive any momentous con-
clusions from so loose a premise. So man would not wear clothes
if he had not a body ; he would not build spinning mules and
jennies if cotton did not grow on bushes, or wool on sheep's backs :
yet the body is more than raiment, nor do cotton bushes and sheep
necessitate wheels and water power. The body would be neither
comfortable nor comely, if not clad ; cotton and wool would be of
little use, but for machinery making quick and cheap their con-
version into cloth ; and, in a truly analogous way, thought would
be awkward, feeble, and indistinct, without the dress, the appa-
ratus, which is afforded it in language. Our denial of the identity
of thought with its expression does not compel us to abate one
jot or tittle of the exceeding value of speech to thought ; it only
puts that value upon its proper basis. — Whitney : Language and
the Study of Language,

(b) For my part I have never been able to understand what is
meant by a double standard or double measure of value. It seems
as absurd as to insist upon having two yardsticks of different
lengths or two gallons of different dimensions. If there were two
standards, or measures, not equal in value, it is evident that one
of them must be a false measure ; and if they were of equal value,
it is evident that no matter what the law might declare, there
would be in fact but one measure, although composed of two dif-
ferent kinds of material.

— John G. Carlisle : Monometallism or Bimetallism.

13. — (Sections 101, 106) — Can you find any fault with
^ the logic of the following ?

(a) Buy a ticket to the Charity Ball; the poor ought to be
relieved.

(h) Every child should have a regular allowance of pocket-
money, so as to learn the value of money.

326 ASSIGNMENTS IN AROU MENTATION.

(c) There must be some truth in the old myths ; otherwise it
would be wrong to talk as we do to children about Santa Claus.

(d) A man preaching against baptism by immersion quoted the
verse : " And he received his sight forthwith and arose and was
baptized" — and asked how a man could be immersed stand-
ing up.

(e) Everybody should take a course in manual training ; for
its value is universally admitted.

(/) Vote my party ticket, for the principles of the party are
sound, for the platform was written by some of the best men in
this country.

{g) You should not patronize a private school, for the public
schools are a great blessing.

(h) This measure should be defeated. It is a new thing and
unheard of in these parts.

(i) Love of virtue is innate in all men, otherwise it would not
be so universal as it is.

(/) He did not speak to me as we passed : he must be offended.

(Jc) This man must be unhealthy ; for he is not an athlete ; and
all athletes are healthy.

(Z) Ignorance breeds crime because everybody knows that
many ignorant people are in prison.

(m) Every religion has some truth in it ; otherwise laws secur-
ing freedom of religious belief and worship would never have been
adopted in civilized countries.

(n) In order to see whether the execution of Charles was just,
we must decide upon the conditions necessary to make his, or any
other, execution just. Certainly the first requirement is that the
accused shall have voluntarily committed a crime legally worthy
of death. . . . The oppressions and tyrannies of Charles cer-
tainly prepared the people for war by arousing a general bad
feeling against the king. He precipitated the war by his own
rash deed. Thus the war was caused both directly and indirectly
by his voluntary acts. Now it will be admitted that if any man
voluntarily brings on a fight with another man, against the wish
of the second man, and if the first then kills the second, he must
be held guilty of murder. This is exactly what Charles did.

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 327

except on a larger scale, to those soldiers of Parliament who were
killed in the war. Therefore, Charles committed murder — nay,
wholesale murder. Now murder was, and is, a crime worthy of
death in the eyes of the law. Thus the first requirement for a just
execution was fulfilled.

(o) The university should have its medical department in
another city. (By redtictio ad ahsurdum,)

(p) The United States should control the Panama Canal.
Because

A . We must build it or it will not be built.

B. We must extend our commerce in the Pacific.

C. Our interests will suffer if any other nation owns it.
(q) The situation of this country is alarming enough to arouse

the attention of every man who pretends to a concern for the pub-
lic welfare. Appearances justify suspicions, and when the safety
of a nation is at stake, suspicion is a just ground of inquiry.

14. — (Sections 101, 106) — Make a brief and argument on
one of the propositions in Appendix C.

15. — (Sections 101, 106) — What is the precise question
at issue in each of the following discussions ? Does one ar-
gument touch the other at any point ? Write a refutation
of either one.

(a) Why is it that the advocates of radical reform in the spell-
ing of English make so little progress in securing the adoption of
a simpler and more natural method ? It can hardly be denied that
they have the best of the argument, in the somewhat rare cases in
which serious argument is attempted in support of the present il-
logical and often whimsical forms. The defence has sometimes
been based on the obliteration of etymological clews which would
be the effect of the adoption of a purely phonetic system, and this
is perhaps the argument which is generally most relied on by op-
ponents of change. It is one which appeals more powerfully than
any other to the scholarly classes. But it is easy to show that the
present orthography of our English words is in very many cases
utterly unreliable and often positively misleading as a guide to
their derivation, a fact which seriously weakens, though it does not

328 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

by any means destroy the force of the etymological plea. In fact,
in the eyes of those who attach great importance to derivation, not
only as a guide to exact definition and usage, but as a valuable aid
in historical research, the objection above noted would indicate the
necessity of ^ spelling reform of a radically different kind, with a
view to the correction of the mistakes which have resulted from
the ignorance of early writers and lexicographers. There are of
course various other objections with which the advocates of pho-
netic spelling are from time to time confronted, such as the effect
which the change they propose would have in rendering the litera-
ture of to-day and preceding centuries as unreadable as if written
in an unknown tongue to succeeding generations.

But we do not remember to have seen stated — though very
likely this is because we have not read extensively ii\ regard to the
controversy — what seems to us to be without doubt the chief,
though perhaps undefined, obstacle to the adoption of the reform.
Is it not the fact that to readers the conception conveyed by the
written word is formed through the medium of the eye rather than
the ear, and so is associated with the form rather than the sound
of the printed word? The weight of etymology as well as logic
may be on the side of rime, iland, etc. But none the less the
mind which has become accustomed to associate the ideas for
which the printed symbols stand with the forms rhyme, island, etc.,
will no.t, without a distinct and troublesome effort, learn to connect
those ideas with the former as it now does without conscious effort
with the latter. The arguments of the spelling reformers seem to
be generally based on the assumption that the chief use of the
written forms is to represent the sounds of the spoken language,
whereas it is doubtful whether the practised reader translates the
symbols into sounds at all. To him the written or printed char-
acter becomes the sign, not of a sound, but of an idea. This may
constitute a selfish and quite insufficient reason for opposing a
change which has so much to be said in its favor, but it none the
less may explain the fact that the majority so doggedly adhere to
the old system. Even a scholar finds it a formidable task to read
understandingly an article written according to any of the phonetic
methods. May he not be excused if he shrinks from the task of
having to learn his native language over again, so far as its use in
reading and writing is concerned? The reform will no doubt

AS8I0NMJSNT8 IN ARGUMENTATION. 329

come in time, but like all linguistic changes, it will be bj slow
and almost imperceptible degrees.

(b) The English language is on the way, as many believe, to
become an international language. For this destiny it is pecul-
iarly fitted by its cosmopolitan vocabulary and its grammatic sim-
plicity. It is much easier to learn than any highly inflected
language can be, and it has the immense advantage over any
invented language that it is the organ of a noble literature and
of a civilization already widely diffused in all parts of the earth.
There is, however, a widespread and well-grounded conviction,
that in its progress our language is hampered by one thing — its
intricate and disordered spelling, which makes it a puzzle to the
stranger within our gates and a mystery to the stranger beyond
the seas. English is easy and infinitely adaptable; its spelling is
difficult and cumbersome.

Our intricate and disordered spelling also places a direct bur-
den upon every native user of English. It wastes a large part of
the time and effort given to the instruction of our children, keep-
ing them, for example, from one to two years behind the school
children of Germany, and condemning many of them to alleged
"illiteracy" all their days. Moreover, the printing, typewriting,
and handwriting of the useless letters which encumber our spell-
ing, wastes every year millions of dollars, and time and effort
worth millions more. If, then, the reasonable and gradual simpli-
fication of our spelling will aid the spread of English, with the
attendant advancement of commerce, of democratic ideals, and of
intellectual and political freedom ; will economize the time of our
school children and make their work more efficient ; and will in
other ways economize both time and money, is it not a matter
which appeals to common sense, to patriotism, and to philanthropy ?

Some of those wlio would like to see our spelling made simpler,
fear that this will obscure the derivation of words; but all ety-
mologists deny the statement and repudiate the argument. Ety-
mology is history, and is now secure in innumerable books. Some
object to any change, not realizing that change — much of it sim-
plification — has been almost continuous in the history of English
spelling. We do not print Shakespeare's or Bacon's words as they
were written ; and surely no great catastrophe to English litersr

330 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION.

ture or to the literary character of the language will have hap-
pened if our successors find — as they certainly will — as great or
greater differences between their spelling and that of the present
day. In familiar correspondence, and in the public prints, many
simplified forms are now used which shock no one's nerves, and in
the most emotional poetry forms such as dropt, slept, prest (Tenny-
son, Lowell, Swinburne, and other poets) are printed without at-
tracting attention. In fact, it is probable that if all English words
were printed to-morrow in the simpler forms which they unques-
tionably will bear a hundred years hence, it would take a very
little while for us all to become accustomed to them. — Circular of
the Simplified Spelling Board,

16. — {Sections 101, lOS) — Wherein is the reasoning of
the following paragraph defective ? Write a brief refutation
of it.

I will take a step further and say that this boasted uniformity
of the laws of nature, even apart from miraculous interferences is
very far from being what unbelievers commonly affirm. It is a
law of nature, for instance, that water runs downhill ; but it ran
uphill at a terrific rate in Galveston the other day. It is a law of
nature that gravitation draws everything toward the earth ; but it
causes water to stand in perpendicular columns in our pumps, and
it sends the balloon, which has to be held down with strong ropes,
up above the clouds when its ropes are cut. It is a law of nature,
that what we call cold contracts all substances affected by it ; but it
causes water at the freezing point to expand. It is a law of nature,
that heat softens and expands objects that are heated; but it
causes clay to harden and contract. Many such illustrations might
be given ; and if our knowledge of nature were complete, we might
find that there is no law of the material universe that does not
sometimes reverse its action.

17. — (Sections 101, 10&) — Complete the following argu-
ment : —

The military or strategic value of a naval position depends upon
its situation, upon its Strength, and upon its resources. Of the
three, the first is of most consequence, because it results from the

ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION. 331

nature of tilings ; whereas the two latter, when deficient, can be
artificially supplied, in whole or in part. Fortifications remedy
the weaknesses of a position, foresight accumulates beforehand the
resources which nature does not yield on the spot ; but it is not
within the power of man to change the geographical situation of a
point which lies outside the limit of strategic effect. It is instruc-
tive, and yet apparent to the most superficial reading, to notice
how the first Napoleon, in commenting upon a region likely to be
the scene of war, begins by considering the most conspicuous natural
features, and then enumerates the commanding positions, their
distances from each other, the relative directions, or, as the sea
phrase is, their " bearings," and the particular facilities each offers
for operations of war. This furnishes the ground plan, the skeleton,
detached from confusing secondary considerations, and from which
a clear estimate of the decisive points can be made. The number
of such points varies greatly, according to the character of the
region. In a mountainous, broken country they may be very
many ; whereas in a plain devoid of natural obstacles there may
be few or none save those created by man. If few, the value of
each is necessarily greater than if many, and if there be but
one its importance is not only unique, but extreme — measured
only by the size of the field over which its unshared influence
extends.

The sea, until it approaches the land, realizes the ideal of a vast
plain unbroken by obstacles. ' On the sea, says an eminent French
tactician, there is no field of battle ; meaning that there is none of
the natural conditions which determine, and often fetter, the
movements of the general. But upon a plain, however flat and
monotonous, causes, possibly slight, determine the concentration
of population into towns and villages, and the necessary communi-
cations between the centres create roads. Where the latter con-
verge, or cross, tenure confers command, depending for importance
upon the number of routes thus meeting and upon their individual
value. It is just so at sea. While in itself the ocean opposes no
obstacle to a vessel taking any one of the numerous routes that
can be traced upon the surface of the globe between two points,
conditions of distance or convenience, of traffic or of wind, do
prescribe certain usual courses. Where these pass near an ocean
position, still more where they use it, it has an influence over them,

332 ASSIGNMENTS IN ARGUMENTATION .

and where several routes cross near by that influence becomes very
great — is com m andin g.

Let us now apply these considerations to the Hawaiian group.

18. — Do you think the following is a fair estimate of the
effect of the study of science upon the human spirit ? If
not, state your view precisely, and support it by arguments.

Science as it is studied and taught by the moderns is the death
of sentiment and of gentle illusions. With it the life of the spirit
is straitened. Everything is reduced to fixed rules, and even the
sublime beauties of Nature disappear. It is science that destroys
the marvellous in the arts as well as faith in the soul. Science tells
us that all is a lie, and seeks to express everything in ciphers and
lines, not only the sea and the land where we are, but also the
highest Heaven where God is. The wonderful yearnings of the
soul are only a kind of mystic ecstasy. The very inspiration of
the poets is a delusion. The heart is a sponge, the brain only a
nest of maggots. — Galdds : Dona Perfecta,

APPENDIX A.

SELECTIONS FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM.

Isolated Paragraphs.

L — It is the making of the wax that costs with the bee. As
with the poet, the form, the receptacle, gives him more trouble
than the sweet that fills it, though, to be sure, there is always more
or less empty comb in both cases. The honey he can have for the
gathering, but the wax he must make himself — must evolve from
his own inner consciousness. When wax is to be made the wax-
makers fill themselves with honey and retire into their chamber
for private meditation ; it is like some solemn religious rite ; they
take hold of hands, or hook themselves together in long lines that
hang in festoons from the top of the hive, and wait for the miracle
to transpire. After about twenty-four hours their patience is re-
warded, the honey is turned into wax, minute scales of which are
secreted from between the rings of £he abdomen of each bee ; this
is taken off and from it the comb is built up. It is calculated that
about twenty-five pounds of honey are used in elaborating one
pound of comb, to say nothing of the time that is lost. Hence the
importance, in an economical point of view, of a recent device by
which the honey is extracted and the comb returned intact to the
bees. But honey without the comb is the perfume without the
rose, — it is sweet merely, and soon degenerates into candy. Half
the delectableness is in breaking down these frail and exquisite
walls yourself, and tasting the nectar before it has lost its freshness
by the contact with the air. Then the comb is a sort of shield or
foil that prevents the tongue from being overwhelmed by the
shock of the sweet. — Burroughs : Birds and Bees.

2. — Some time, wandering in a thinned wood, you may have
happened upon an old vine, the seed of which had long ago been

334 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

dropped and had sprouted in an open spot where there was no
timber. Every May, in response to Nature's joyful bidding that
it yet shall rise, the vine has loosed the thousand tendrils of its
hope, those long, green, delicate fingers searching the empty air.
Every December you may see these turned stiff and brown, and
wound about themselves like spirals or knotted like the claw of a
frozen bird. Year after year the vine has grown only at the head,
remaining empty-handed ; and the head itself, not being lifted
always higher by anything the hands have seized, has but moved
hither and thither, back and forth, like the head of a wounded
snake in a path. Thus every summer you may see the vine, fallen
back and coiled upon itself, and piled up before you like a low
green mound, its own tomb ; in winter a black heap, its own ruins.
So, it often is with the poorest, who live on at the head, remaining
empty-handed ; fallen in and coiled back upon themselves, their
own inescapable tombs, their own unavertible ruins. — Allen : The
Choir Invisible.

3. — The old conditions of travel and the new conditions of
most travel of to-day are precisely opposite. For in old travel, as
on horseback or on foot now, you saw the country while you
travelled. Many of your stopping-places were for rest, or because
night had fallen, and you could see nothing at night. Under the
old system, therefore, an intelligent traveller might keep in mo-
tion from day to day, slowly, indeed, but seeing something all the
time, and learning what the country was through which he passed
by talk with the people. But in the new system, he is shut up
with his party and a good many other parties in a tight box with
glass windows, and whirled on through dust if it be dusty, or rain
if it be rainy, under arrangements which make it impossible to
converse with the people of the country, and almost impossible to
see what that country is. — E. E. Hale : How to Do It.

4. — The vast results obtained by science are won by no mysti-
cal faculties, by no mental processes, other than those which are
practised by every one of us in the humblest and meanest affairs
of life. A detective policeman discovers a burglar from the marks
made by his shoe, by a mental process identical with that by which
Cuvier restored the extinct animals of Montmartre from fragments
of their bones. Nor does that process of induction and deduction

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 335

by which a lady, finding a stain of a particular kind upon her
dress, concludes that somebody has upset the inkstand thereon,
differ in any way from that by which Adams and Leverrier dis-
covered a new planet. The man of science, in fact, simply uses
with scrupulous exactness the methods which we all habitu-
ally and at every moment use carelessly. — Huxley: Lay Sermons,

5. — After a while she ventured to the top of the gangway
stairs, and stood there, looking at the novel sights of the harbor,
in the red sunset light, which rose slowly from the hulls and lower
spars of the shipping, and kindled the tips of the high-shooting
masts with a quickly fading splendor. A delicate flush responded
in the east, and rose to meet the denser crimson of the west; a
few clouds, incomparably light and diaphanous, bathed them-
selves in the glow. It was a summer sunset, portending for the
land a morrow of great heat. But cool airs crept along the water,
and the ferry-boats, thrust shuttlewise back and forth between
either shore, made a refreshing sound as they crushed a broad
course to foam with their paddles. People were pulling about in
small boats ; from some the gay cries and laughter of young girls
struck sharply along the tide. The noise of the quiescent city
came off in a sort of dull moan. The lamps began to twinkle in
the windows and the streets on shore ; the lanterns of the ships at
anchor in the stream showed redder and redder as the twilight
fell. The homesickness began to mount from Lydia's heart in a
choking lump to her throat ; for one must be very happy to en-
dure the sights and sounds of the summer evening anywhere.
She had to shield her eyes from the brilliancy of the kerosene
light when she went below into the cabin. — Howells: Lady of
the Aroostook,

6. — I am told that the matchless writing of Macaulay is nowadays
jeered at. I am not sure whether it is allowed to be " style "; I
am not sure whether it is allowed to b^ " literature." 1 have now
and then made some efforts to find out what " style " and " litera-
ture " are. I find that they are something very different from
Macaulay, something very different from Arnold, something,
I might go on to say, very different from Gibbon. I have
tried the writings of a notable ** stylist," the great living
model, I am told, of style. Now, did anybody ever have to

336 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

read over a sentence of Macaulay, or of Arnold, or even of the
artificial Gibbon, a second time simply in order to find out i^
meaning ? But I found that in my " stylist " a plain man could
not make out the meaning of a single sentence without greater
pains than are needed to follow an imperfectly known foreign lan-
guage. A story seemed to be told ; but there was no making out
whether the story was meant to be fact or fiction. I will not say
that I have imitated Macaulay 's style, because I gather from what
I saw of my " stylist " that Macaulay has no " style." I have not
consciously imitated his manner of writing; that is, I have not
tried to write like him. Yet Macaulay's manner of writing has
been in the highest measure an influence with me. I have learned
from him to say what I mean and to mean what I say — to cut my
sentences short — not to be afraid of repeating the same word, not
to talk about " the former " and " the latter," but to call men and
things whatever they are. I have learned from him to say what I
have to say in the purest, the cleanest, the strongest, aye, and the
most rhythmical English that I can muster. If my " stylist " is
"style" and Lord Macaulay is not "style," a man who wishes to
understand will say something more than " scepe stylum vertas "; he
will say good-by to "style" and stick to plain English.

— Edward A. Freeman, Forum, April, 1892.

7. — I have before alluded to the strange and vain supposition,
that the original conception of Gothic architecture had been de-
rived from vegetation, — from the symmetry of avenues, and the
interlacing of branches. It is a supposition which never could
have existed for a moment in the mind of any person acquainted
with early Gothic ; but, however idle as a theory, it is most valu-
able as a testimony to the character of the perfected style. It is
precisely because the reverse of this theory is the fact, because the
Gothic did not arise out of, but developed itself into, a resemblance
to vegetation, that this resemblance is so instructive as an indica-
tion of the temper of the builders. It was no chance suggestion of
the form of an arch from the bending of a bough, but a gradual
and continual discovery of a beauty in natural forms which could
be more and more perfectly transferred into those of stone, that in-
fluenced at once the heart of the people, and the form of the edi-
fice. The Gothic architecture arose in massy and mountainous

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 337

strength, axe-hewn, and iron-bound, block heaved upon block by
the monk's enthusiasm and the soldier's force; and cramped and
stanchioned into such weight of gi'isly wall, as might bury the
anchoret in darkness, and beat back the utmost storm of battle,
suffering but by the same narrow crosslet the passing of the sun-
beam, or of the arrow. Gradually, as that monkish enthusiasm
became more thoughtful, and as the sound of war became more
and more intermittent beyond the gates of the convent or the keep,
the stony pillar grew slender and the vaulted roof grew light, till
they had wreathed themselves into the semblance of the summer
woods at their fairest; and of the dead field-flowers, long
trodden down in blood, sweet monumental statues were set to
bloom forever, beneath the porch of the temple, or the canopy
of the tomb. — Ruskin : The Stones of Venice.

8. — The poet, the orator, bred in the woods, whose senses have
been nourished by their fair and appeasing changes, year after
year, without design and without heed — shall not lose their lesson
altogether, in the roar of cities or the broil of politics. Long here-
after, amidst agitation and terror in national councils — in the
hour of revolution — these solid images shall reappear in their
morning lustre, as fit symbols and words of the thoughts which the
passing events shall awaken. At the call of a noble sentiment,
again the woods wave, the pines murmur, the river rolls and shines,
and the cattle low upon the mountains, as he saw and heard them in
his infancy. And with these forms, the spells of persuasion, the
keys of power are put into his hands. — Emerson : Nature.

9. — The battle of Actium was followed by the final conquest of
Egypt. That conquest rounded and integrated the glorious em-
pire ; it was now circular as a shield, orbicular as the disk of a
planet ; the great Julian arch was now locked into the cohesion of
granite by its last keystone. From that day forward for three
hundred years, there was silence in the world ; no muttering was
heard ; no eye winked beneath the wing. Winds of hostility
might still rave at intervals; but it was on the outside of the
mighty empire; it was at a dreamlike distance; and, like the
storms that beat against some monumental castle, " and at the doors

338 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

and windows seem to call," they rather irritated and vivified the
sense of security, than at all disturbed its luxurious lull.

— De Quincey : The Philosophy of Roman History,

10. — There are two methods by which, given men and arms,
an army may be created : one is by the tedious process of daily
drill, continued until the soldier becomes a machine and obedience
a habit; the other is by the leadership of one in whom every
soldier has an unfaltering confidence. The one requires time —
the other, a max.

11. — If we confine our attention to the graphic and plastic arts,
and leave, for the present, music and architecture out of the ques-
tion, we find that there are two elements in them : the representa-
tion of nature and the action of human genius. Exactness in the
representation of nature is what is called " truth " in art, and hu-
man genius manifests itself by the powers of invention and execu-
tion, both of which are incompatible with complete and absolute
fidelity in the representation of nature. The best way to under-
stand truth in art is to suppose it generally prevalent above all
other qualities, so predominant as to stifle or exclude them. This
w^ould happen in the art of painting if it always realized Mr. Rus-
kin's last ideal of perfection. The best picture, according to the
most ultimate declarations of his opinion, is that which most
nearly resembles the reflection of nature in a mirror. It would
then follow that art would be simply nature with inferior power of
illumination, and the works of different artists would resemble
each other as closely as do reflections of the same face in the dif-
ferent mirrors in a drawing-room. All the interest of individual
interpretation would be at an end, and in exchange for it we should
have something like the veracity of perfectly colored photographs,
in which the defects of ordinary photography would be corrected
by an eye as faithful in color as photography is in form. After
the general attainment of such an ideal as this, all art might
reasonably be anonymous, as the authorship of pictures would be
past recognition. It would signify nothing to any one whether a
Titian or a Rubens had applied the color to a canvas if both mas-
ters had precisely the same qualities, and indeed the total destruc-
tion of all previous art would be but a trifling loss if the well-

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 339

trained craftsmen of the future could replace its truth with an
equally absolute veracity. We do not regret the loss of water that
has flowed away when the springs of it are limpid and perennial.
— P. G. Hamerton : Contemporary Review, September, 1893.

12. — The thud, thud of a horse's hoof does not alarm fish.
Basking in the sun under the bank, a jack or pike lying close to
the surface of the water will remain unmoved, however heavy
the sound may be. The vibrations reach the fish in several ways.
There is what we should ourselves call the noise as conveyed by
the air, and which in the case of a jack actually at the surface may
be supposed to reach him direct. Next there is the vibration pass-
ing through the water, which is usually pronounced to be a good
medium. Lastly,, there is the bodily movement of the substance
of the water. When the bank is hard and dry this latter amounts
only to a slight shaking, but it frequently happens that the side
of a brook or pond is soft, and "gives" under a heavy weight.
Sometimes the edge is even pushed into the water, and the brook
in a manner squeezed. You can see this when cattle walk by the
margin ; the grassy edge is pushed out, and in a minute way they
may be said to contract the stream. It is in too small a degree to
have the least apparent effect upon the water, but it is different
with the sense of hearing, which is so delicate that the bodily
movement thus caused may be reasonably believed to be very
audible indeed to the jack. The wire fences which are now so
much used round shrubberies and across parks give a very good
illustration of the conveyance of sound. Strung tight by a span-
ner, the strands of twisted wire resemble a stringed instrument.
If you place your hand on one of the wires and get a fiiend to
strike it with his stick, say, thirty or forty yards away, you will
distinctly feel it vibrate. If the ear is held close enough you will
hear it, vibration and sound being practically convertible terms.
To the basking jack three such wires extend, and when the cart-
horse in the meadow puts down his heavy hoof he strikes them
all at once. Yet, though fish are so sensitive to sound, the jack is
not in the least alarmed, and there can be little doubt that he
knows what it is. A whole herd of cattle feeding and walking
about does not disturb him, but if the light step — light in com-
parison — of a man approach, away he goes. Poachers, therefore,

840 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

nnable to disguise their footsteps, endeavor to conceal them, and
by moying slowly to avoid vibrating the earth, and through it the
the water. — Richard Jefferies : The Life of the Fields.

13. — I looked at the burning ship. . . . Between the darkness
of earth and heaven she was burning fiercely upon a disk of purple
sea shot by the blood-red play of gleams ; upon a disk of water
glittering and sinister. A high, clear flame, an immense and lonely
flame, ascended from the ocean, and from its summit the black
smoke poured continuously at the sky. She burned furiously,
mournful and imposing like a funeral pile kindled in the night,
surrounded by the sea, watched over by the stars. A magnificent
death had come like a grace, like a gift, like a reward to that old
ship at the end of her laboring days. The surrender of her weaiy
ghost to the keeping of stars and sea was stirring like the sight
of a glorious triumph. The masts fell just before daybreak, and
for a moment there was a burst and turmoil of sparks that
seemed to fill with flying fire the night, patient and watchful,
the vast night lying silent upon the sea. At daybreak she was
only a charred shell, floating still under a cloud of smoke and
bearing a glowing mass of coal within. — Joseph Conrad : Youth,

14. — The river was swollen with the long rains. From Vaden-
court all the way to Origny it ran with ever quickening speed, tak-
ing fresh heart at each mile, and racing as though it already smelt
the sea. The water was yellow and turbulent, swung with an angry
eddy among half-submerged willows, and made an angry clatter
along stony shores. The course kept turning and turning in a
narrow and well-timbered valley. Now the river would approach
the side, and run gliding along the chalky base of the hill, and
show us a few open colza fields among the trees. Now it would
skirt the garden walls of houses, where we might catch a glimpse
through a doorway, and see a priest pacing in the checkered sun-
light. Again, the foliage closed so thickly in front that there
seemed to be no issue ; only a thicket of willows overtopped by
elms and poplars, under which the river ran flush and fleet, and
where a kingfisher flew past like a piece of the blue sky. On these
different manifestations the sun poured its clear and catholic looks.
The shadows lay as solid on the swift surface of the stream as on
the stable meadows. The light sparkled golden in the dancing

FOR ANALYSIS AND CBITICISM. 341

poplar leaves, and brought the hills into communion with our
eyes. And all the while the river never stopped running or took
breath ; and the reeds along the whole valley stood shivering from
top to toe. — R. L. Stevenson : An Inland Voyage.

15. — And in awhile the dominant course of the river itself,
the animation of its steady downward flow, even amid the sand-
shoals and whispering islets of the dry season, bore his thoughts
beyond it, in a sudden, irresistible appetite for the sea ; and he de-
termined, varying slightly from the described route, to reach his
destination by way of the coast. From Nantes he descended im-
perceptibly along tall hedge-rows of acacia, till on a sudden, with
a novel freshness in the air, through a low archway of laden fruit
trees it was visible — sand, sea, and sky, in three quiet spaces, line
upon line. The features of the landscape changed again, and the
gardens, the rich orchards, gave way to bare, grassy undulations ;
only the open sandy spaces presented their own native flora, for the
fine silex seemed to have crept into the tall, wiry stalks of the
ixias, like grasses the seeds of which had expanded, by solar
magic, into veritable flowers, crimson, green, or yellow patched
with black. — Pater : Gaston de La Tour,

16. — Thick, beautiful, and closely curled masses of rich brown,
much neglected hau* fell about an ample brow, and almost to the
wearer's shoulders ; strong eyebrows masked with their dark shad-
ows a pair of rather sunken eyes, in which a sort of fire, instinct with
what may be called a proud cynicism, burned with furtive energy.
His rather high cheekbones were the more observable because his
cheeks were roseless and hollow enough to indicate the waste of
life and midnight oil to which the youth was addicted. Close
shaving left bare his very full, not to say sensuous lips, and square-
cut masculine chin. Rather below the middle height, and with a
slightly rolling gait, Rossetti came forward among his fellows with
a jerky step, tossed the falling hair back from his face, and, having
both hands in his pockets, faced the student world with an insouci-
ant air which savored of thorough self-reliance. A bare throat, a
falling, ill-kept collar, boots not over-familiar with brushes, black
and well-worn habiliments, including not the ordinary jacket of
the period, but a loose dress-coat which had once been new — these
were the outward and visible signs of a mood which cared even less

342 ISOLATED PABAGRAPH8

for appearances than the art student of those days was accustomed
to care, which undoubtedly was little enough. — Portrait of Dante
Gabriel Bossetti by a fellow-student, quoted by A. C. Benson in
Rossetti: English Men of Letters.

17. — It [Rossetti's Fra Pace"] represents a monk kneeling at a
desk and making an illumination. The room in which he is at
work is a kind of bedroom studio. Above the bed hangs a bell,
the rope of which goes down through a large opening in the floor,
by which the room seems to be entered, and which gives a glimpse
of a tiled passage below and a bit of landscape. The picture is
full of abundance of quaint detail, somewhat archaic in character.
On the side of the monk's desk hangs a little row of bottles of
pigment ; on the window-ledge is a dead mouse, which he is draw-
ing ; close to his hand lies a slice of pomegranate, also probably
serving as a model. On the tail of the monk's frock lies a cat
asleep, and a cheerful little acolyte, with a mirthful smile, in a re-
ligious dress with embroidered collar and cuffs, is tickling it with
a straw. But the charm of the picture is the face of the nionk,
thin and amiable, with sparse hair, the lips drawn up in the nicety
of the work, the quiet eyelid falling over the eye, as he looks down-
ward at his slender brush, held in a strong white hand. There is
a tired half -smile on his face, but his complete absorption, together
with the ordered look of the quiet room, with its signs of peaceful
habitation, strike the note of cloistered calm and tranquil happi-
ness. — A. C. Benson.

18. — Outside, in the piazza before the church, there was an idle,
cruel crowd, amusing itself with the efforts of a blind old man to
find the entrance. He had a number of books which he desper-
ately laid down while he ran his helpless hands over the clustered
columns, and which he then desperately caught up again, in fear of
losing them. At other times he paused, and wildly clasped his hands
upon his eyes, and then threw up his arms ; and then began to run to
and fro again uneasily, while the crowd laughed and jeered. Doubt-
less a taint of madness afflicted him ; but not the less he seemed the
type of a blind soul that gropes darkly about through life, to find the
doorway of some divine truth or beauty, — touched by the heavenly
harmonies from within, and miserably failing, amid the scornful

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 343

cries and bitter glee of those who have no will but to mock aspira-
tion. — W. D. Howells : Italian Journeys,

19. — There seemed just now the tiniest twinkle of movement
by the rushes, but it was lost among the hedge parsley. Among
the gray leaves of the willow there is anotlier flit of motion ; and
visible now against the sky there is a little brown bird, not to be
distinguished at the moment from the many other little brown
birds that are known to be about. He got up into the willow from
the hedge parsley somehow, without being seen to climb or fly.
Suddenly he crosses to the tops of the hawthorn and immediately
flings himself up into the air a yard or two, his wings and ruffled
crest making a ragged outline ; jerk, jerk, jerk, as if it were with
the utmost difficulty he could keep even at that height. He scolds,
and twitters, and chirps, and all at once sinks like a stone into the
hedge and out of sight as a stone into a pond. It is a white-throat ;
his nest is deep in the parsley and nettles. Presently he will go
out to the island apple-tree and back again in a minute or two ;
the pair of them are so fond of each other's affectionate company
they cannot remain apart. — Richard Jefferies: The Pageant of
Summer.

20. — Here, 1 think, lies one of the pernicious results of an
over-developed system of athletics. The more games that people
play, the better, but I do not think it is wholesome to talk about
them for large spaces of leisure time, any more than it is whole-
some to talk about your work or your meals. The result of all the
talk about athletics is that the newspapers get full of them too.
That is only natural. It is the business of newspapers to find out
what interests people, and to tell them about it ; but the bad side
of it is that young athletes get introduced to the pleasures of pub-
licity, and that ambitious young men think that athletics are a
short cut to fame. To have played in a University eleven is like
accepting a peerage ; you wear for the rest of your life an agree-
able and honorable social label, and I do not think that a peerage
is deserved, or should be accepted, at the age of twenty. I do not
think it is a good kind of fame which depends on a personal per-
formance rather than upon a man's usefulness to the human race.

21. — If we assume that our eyes could see an electric wave
of wireless telegraphy running over the earth, just as we ac-

344 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

tually see the waves running over a pond, or the shadow of a
cloud running over a landscape, we should expect to see a hemi-
spherical wave thrown out from the sending mast every time an
electric spark discharge was produced there. The hemisphere
would cover the land like an inverted bowl, and would expand in
all directions like the upper half of a gigantic, swelling soap-bubble,
at the speed of 186,000 miles a second. At the upper portions />f
the hemisphere, and particularly at the top, the waves would be
very thin and weak. It would be denser and stronger in the
lower portions, and especially in the lowest portion that spreads
over the ground like a ring.

22. — The two great dangers of American bathing are the under-
tow and the " searpuss." The undertow varies at different stages
of the tide, and with the different strengths of the surf; it is
simply the return of the volume of water that has been thrown
up on the beach, and the stronger the surf, the greater the under-
tow. It may have curious deviations ; instead of running straight
out to sea, it may extend up or down the beach, so that the sur-
prised bather sometimes finds himself continually working a hun-
dred yards or so beyond his point of entry. The other and greater
danger of bathing is the largely unknown "sea-puss," or, as it is
more properly termed, the " searpurse." This condition of affairs
results from the great influence which the winds have on ocean
currents. Its formation is easily explained ; for example, if the
wind has been blowing steadily from one quarter, the surf will
break on the beach from that direction, when, suddenly, the wind
shifts to another quarter ; as a result, a second current of water is
started, which, meeting the first current nearer the shore, causes
the ocean to " purse up," forming a small whirlpool, which ends
in an undertow running strongly out to sea. It was the writer's
unfortunate experience to have been caught in one of these "sea-
purses " several years ago ; as an illustration of its force, the fact
that two bathers were drowned, and four were brought back to
life only with the greatest difficulty, is sufficient evidence.

23. — The intrinsic worth of human labor in any department
is very small. Much of .every day is taken up, and necessarily
taken up, with actions which have no value. I had an old friend
who was very great on the subject of " redeeming the time," and

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM, 345

very hard on what he called unprofitable occupations. Yet he took
an hour to dress in the morning and an hour to undress at night,
duties which he performed with a good deal of rectitude. I sup-
pose he never calculated the somewhat appalling fact that in the
course of a long life he had spent in all some six entire years in
the process of dressing and undressing I If one ouce begins these
gloomy calculations, it is shocking to reflect how very small a por-
tion of our life is really given to what maybe called serious things.
The truth really is that a man'a life is the expression of his
temperament, and that what eventually matters is his attitude
and relation to life, his hopes and aspirations, and not only his
performance.

24. — One of the serious consequences of the drawing away of
the youth and energy of the villages and towns is found in the
benumbing effect it has upon those who remain behind. There is
little incentive to start new enterprises, and especially is there
small encouragement for boys to learn skilled trades. Hence the
prospect before the boys of these villages is depressing in the
extreme. There is practically no chance for a boy to become
skilled in any trade except in the building trades, the blacksmith
shops, and in the commonest handicrafts. The late awakening to
the value of manual -training schools is confined almost exclusively
to the largest cities. Nothing is done in the smaller towns to
teach manual skill or general expertness in the use of tools, and
the idea of any public effort to encourage the education of highly
skilled mechanics in any department is not even thought of. A
boy may learn to hold a plough, to shovel dirt, to do common car-
penters' work, to paint a house, to shoe a horse ; he may learn how
to clerk in a store, to become a lawyer, or to sell life-insurance;
but the country towns are absolutely dead to the need of cultivat-
ing the mechanic arts, and teaching the American youth that
general knowledge and special skill without which our native
workers are being so rapidly driven out of the higher branches of
industrial activity. In Switzerland, France, Germany, Belgium,
Holland, Austria, the village boy or girl with any aptitude finds a
school near by in which he may pursue the lines of study proper
to lay the foundation for any art or calling, and in most cases he
may then enter a trade school from which, after years of the most

346 ISOLATED PAtiAGkAPMS

thorough practical and technical instruction, he may be graduated
a finished master of his chosen trade.

25. — The qualities which render the bamboo applicable to so
many useful purposes, and in which it surpasses all other woods,
are its straightness and length ; its elasticity, strength, hoUowness,
smoothness, lightness, and roundness, as also the ease with which
it can be split, and the regularity of its cleavage. Then, in a
minor degree, comes the fact that it imparts no smell or taint to
water, which allows it to be used in constructing drinking-vessels
of all descriptions and for conduits. Its quick growth, its abun-
dance, and the ease with which sizes can be matched, are also fac-
tors that cannot be overlooked. As a result, it is said, of free
silicic acid existing in the cane, it is hardened and given a capar
bility of resisting many of the destroying influences to which
other woods are prone.

26. — Houses of any antiquity in New England are so invari-
ably possessed with spirits that the matter seems hardly worth
alluding to. Our ghost used to heave deep sighs in a particular
corner of the parlor, and sometimes rustled paper, as if he were
turning over a sermon in the long upper entry, — where neverthe-
less he was invisible in spite of the bright moonshine that fell
through the eastern window. Not improbably he wished me to
edit and publish a selection from a chest full of manuscript dis-
courses that stood in the garret. Once, while Hillard and other
friends sat talking with us in the twilight, there came a rustling
noise as of a minister's silk gown, sweeping through the veiy midst
of the company so closely as almost to brush against the chairs.
Still there was nothing visible. A yet stranger business was that
of a ghostly servant-maid, who used to be heard in the kitchen at
deepest midnight, grinding coffee, cooking, ironing, — performing,
m short, all kinds of domestic labor, — although no traces of any-
thing accomplished could be detected the next morning. Some
neglected duty of her servitude — some ill-starched ministerial
band — disturbed the poor damsel in her grave and kept her at
work without any wages. — Hawthorne : Mosses from an Old
Manse,

27. — Politics is properly a profession ; and, in fact, the highest
among the learned professions. It should be so regarded by the

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 347

State. In this view the uses of education reach the highest limit
of human importance and endeavor; that is,' the administration of
government. On that administration, the peace, the morals, the
prosperity, and the liberty of the whole people are dependent.
There can be no true and practical religion without civil- liberty.
In turn, the character of the administration is dependent on the
political 'education of those selected to conduct it. Especially is
this so in a Republic like ours ; a National Republic made up of a
union of lesser republics, all government being under authority of
written constitutions, and each republic with separate and differ-
ing constitutions. The policies to maintain the integrity of each
and all to be recognized in administering government, must, neces-
sarily, be an outgrowth from the organization, and whatever that
outgrowth may be — whether tending to good or evil — to pre^
ervation or destruction of liberty' — it must be recognized when it
appears, be studied, and be so dealt with as to make it least harm-
ful and most useful.

28. — When moisture-laden atmosphere, from any reason,
ascends sufficiently, the pressure to which it is subjected is
diminished, it expands and is thereby cooled and its moisture
condensed. When this condensation takes place with sufficient
rapidity it rains or snows, otherwise only clouds are produced.
Clouds may be produced in other ways, but not rain. The ascent
of the air which produces rain is generally brought about In one
of two ways : first, if the prevailing winds blow over high moun-
tains, they will, in the passage, be deprived of their moisture.
Thus are produced the heaviest annual rainfalls of the earth.
Second, when the atmosphere over any portion of the earth's
surface becomes warmer or lighter than over the surrounding
areas, it ascends just as the air does in a hot chimney, and in the
same manner, too, it draws in the adjacent air and the whole is
carried aloft to be expanded, cooled, and deprived of its moisture,
with great liberation of heat, which heat keeps the draught in
operation.

29. — One of the points which has been made against the rail-
ways, and apparently with justice, is the laxity in operation of the
block-signal system, carried to such an extent as practically to neu-
tralize nearly all of the protection which it is supposed to afford*

348 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

That an engineer should be permitted, under any consideration
whatever, to run past a block-signal, is to render that system far
worse than useless, since its presence creates a sense of security
which does not exist. If no signal system is installed, the very
feeling of insecurity creates an individual degree of watchfulness,
which gives some protection. When, however, a system, admirable
in itself, serves to lull that watchfulness, while at the i^me time
its value is practically destroyed by the violation of its funda-
mental principle, it is far worse than none. The first thing which
should be done, if the railways of the United States wish to allay
the feeling of insecurity which the recent accidents have created, is
to announce, in unmistakable terms, that the block system is to
be enforced absolutely, and to make that statement good beyond
suspicion.

30. — It seems hard to realize that the lightest whisper must
continue its round of force through all eternity, yet on the belief
that such is the case is based all modern physics and very many of
the most useful adjuncts of modern civilization. It is this that
philosophers mean when they speak of the conservation of energy,
and the other axiom, that of tlie correlation of forces, is a necessary
adjunct. When heat Ls applied to water in a steam boiler it does
not remain solely as heat. A part of it (as the older philosophers
said) becomes latent or hidden as the water turns to steam. It is
the hidden force which is represented by expansion and consequent
compression of the vapor of water, and that is utilized in the steam
engine. Heat is thus transformed to power, and this in turn may
be transformed, as in the dynamo-electric machine, to electricity,
which, in its turn, in the electric arc for example, may again be
turned to heat and light, or in the electric motor to power. In all
this transference nothing is lost. It is true that all the heat ap-
plied is not converted to a form useful to man — that some is
" lost," as it is expressed, through the imperfection of machinery
— but this is not lost to the economy of nature. It is only trans-
ferred to some other force not yet harnessed to the uses of civiliza-
tion. In the so-called storage battery electricity is transferred into
chemical energy, and this in turn is capable of being transferred
again into electrical energy. Force is indeed stored and accumu-
lated, but not in the form of electrical force. In its present most

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM, 349

familiar form the storage battery consists of a series of perforated
lead plates coated with oxides of lead and immersed in a solution
of sulphuric acid. The current from a dynamo-electric machine
transforms one of these plates to a form of pure lead, depriving the
litharge of its oxygen, while the oxide of the other plate is still
further oxidized and is partially attacked by the acid. On the com-
pletion of this change a reverse action is set up, the oxygen flowing
from the ** charged " to the " reduced " plate, and the surplus en-
ergy is again set free as electricity. It will be seen at once that it
is chemical and not electrical force that is " stored," and it is only
the remarkable economy of power which is accomplished, as well
as its convenience, which makes the storage battery a successful
method of applying power. The imperfections inherent in all
human mechanisms prevent a full return of the power originally
applied, but the claim is made and generally admitted that from
80 to 90 per cent of the electrical energy originally applied is re-
covered again in a well-made battery.

31. — This instrument contains an enumeration of powers ex-
pressly granted by the people to their government. It has been
said that these powers ought to be construed strictly. But why
ought tjiey to be so construed? Is there one sentence in the
Constitution which gives countenance to this rule ? In the last of
the enumerated powers, that which grants expressly the means for
carrying all others into execution. Congress is authorized " to make
all laws which shall be necessary- and proper " for the purpose.
But this limitation on the means which may be used is not ex-
tended to the powers which are conferred ; nor is there one sen-
tence in the Constitution which has been pointed out by the gentle-
men of the bar, or which we have been able to discern, that
prescribes this rule. We do not, therefore, think ourselves justi-
fied in adopting it. What do gentlemen mean by a strict construc-
tion? If they contend only against that enlarged construction
which would extend words beyond their natural and obvious im-
port, we might question the application of the term, but should
not controvert the principle. If they contend for that narrow con-
struction, which, in support of some theory not to be found in the
Constitution, would deny to the government those powers which
the words of the grant, as usually understood, import, and which

350 ISOLATED PARAGRAPHS

are consistent with the general views and objects of the instru-
ment ; for that narrow construction which would cripple the gov-
ernment and render it unequal to the objects for which it is
declared to be instituted, and to which the powers given, as fairly
understood, render it competent; then we cannot perceive the pro-
priety of this strict construction, nor adopt it as the rule by which
the Constitutiou is to be expounded. As men whose intentions
require no concealment generally employ the words which most
directly and amply express the ideas they intend to convey, the
enlightened patriots who framed our Constitution, and the people
who adopted it, must be understood to have employed words in
their natural sense, and to have intended what they have said. If,
from the imperfection of human language, there should be serious
doubts respecting the extent of any given power, it is a well-settled
rule that the objects for which it was given, especially when those
objects are expressed in the instrument itself, should have great
influence in the construction. We know of no reason for exclud-
ing this rule from the present case. The grant does not convey
power which might be beneficial to the grantor, if retained by
himself, or which can enure solely to the benefit of the grantee, but
is an investment of power for the general advantage, in the hands
of agents selected for that purpose, which power can never be ex-
ercised by the people themselves, but must be placed in the hand
of agents, or lie dormant. We know of no rule for construing the
extent of such powers other than is given by the language of the
instrument which confers them, taken in connection with the pur-
poses for which they were conferred. — John Marshall: Constitu-
tional Decisions, pp. 430-432.

Related Paragraphs.

1. Biography,

The ideal biographer should in the first place write of some one
who is thoroughly sympathetic to him. Excessive admiration,
though a fault, is a fault on the right side. As Arbuthnot ob-
serves in the recipe for an epic poem, the fire is apt to cool down
wonderfully when it is spread on paper. Readers will make de-

FOR ANALYSIS AND CBtTlClSM. 361

ductions enough in any case ; and nothing can compensate for a
want of enthusiasm about your subject. He should then consider
how much space his hero undeniably deserves, divide that by two
(to make a modest denominator) and let nothing in the world
tempt him to exceed the narrower limits. Sam Weller's defini-
tion of good letter-writing applies equally to biography. The
reader should ask for more and should not get it. The scrapings
and remnants of a man's life should be charitably left to the harm-
less race of bookmakers, as we give our crumbs to the sparrows in
winter. If there are any incidental facts with which the hero is
connected, but which have no bearing upon his character, consign
them to an appendix or put them into notes, I have myself a
prejudice against notes, and think that a biography should be as
independent of such appendages as a new poem. But there are
people, perhaps, of better taste than mine who like such trim-
mings, and have a fancy for trifling with them in the intervals of
reading.

The book itself should, I hold, be a portrait in which not a single
touch should be admitted which is not relevant to the purpose of
producing a speaking likeness. The biographer should sternly con-
fine himself to his functions as introducer; and should give no
more discussion than is clearly necessary for making the book an
independent whole. A little analysis of motive may be necessary
here and there; when, for example, your hero has put his hand in
somebody's pocket and you have to demonstrate that his conduct
was due to sheer absence of mind. But you must always remem-
ber that a single concrete fact, or a saying into which a man has
put his whole soul, is worth pages of psychological analysis. We
may argue till Doomsday about Swift's character; his single
phrase about " dying like a poisoned rat in a hole" tells us more
tlian all the commentators. The book should be the man himself
speaking or acting, and nothing but the man. It should be such
a portrait as reveals the essence of character ; and the writer who
gives anything that does not tell upon the general effect is like
the portrait-painter who allows the chairs and tables, or even the
coat and cravat, to distract attention from the face. The really
significant anecdote is often all that survives of a life ; and such
anecdotes must be made to tell properly, instead of being hidden
away in a wilderness of the commonplace ; they should be a focus

352 RELATED PARAOBAPHS

of interest, instead of a fallible extract for a book of miscellanies.
How much would be lost of Johnson if we suppress the incident
of the penance at Uttoxeter ! It is such incidents that in books,
as often in life, suddenly reveal to us whole regions of sentiment
but never rise to the surface in the ordinary routine of our day.

— Leslie Stephen.

2. 7^e Art of Writing Histort/.

The supreme virtue of the historian is truthfulness, and it may
be violated in many different degrees. The worst form is when a
writer deliberately falsifies facts or deliberately excludes from his
picture qualifying circumstances. But there are other and much
more subtle ways in which party spirit continually and often
quite unconsciously distorts history. All history is necessarily
a selection of facts, and a writer who is animated by a strong sym-
pathy with one side of a question or a strong desire to prove some
special point will be much tempted in his selection to give an
undue prominence to those that support his view, or, even where
neither facts nor arguments are suppressed, to give a party charac-
ter to his work by an unfair distribution of lights and shades.
The biographical element in history is always the most uncertain.
Even among contemporaries the judgment of character and mo-
tives depends largely on indications so slight and subtle that they
rarely pass into books and are only fully felt by direct personal
contact; and the smallest knowledge of life shows how quickly
anecdotes and sayings are distorted, colored, and misplaced when
they pass from lip to lip. Most of the "good sayings" of history
are invention, and most of them have been attributed to different
persons. Different ages differ enormously in the severity of proof
which they exact, in the degree of accuracy which they attain.
The credibility of a statement also depends not only on the
amount of its evidence, but also on its own inherent probability.
Every one will feel that an amount of testimony that would be
quite sufficient to persuade him that a butcher's boy had been
seen driving along a highway is wholly different from that which
would be required to persuade him that a ghost had been met
there. The same rule applies to the history of the past, and it
is complicated by the great difference in different ages of the

FOn ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 353

measure of probability, or, in other words, by the strong predis-
position in certain stages of knowledge to accept statements or
explanations of facts which in later stages we know to be incred-
ible or in a high degree improbable.

Few things are more difficult to attain than a just perspective
in history. The most dramatic incidents are not the most impor-
tant, and in weighing the joys and sorrows of the past, our measures
of judgment are almost hopelessly false. The most humane man
cannot emancipate himself from the law of his nature, according
to which he is more affected by some tragic circumstance which
has taken place in his own house or in his own street than by a
catastrophe which has carried anguish and desolation over enor-
mous areas in a distant continent. In history, too, there are vast
tracts which are almost necessarily unrealized. We judge a
period mainly by its great men, by its brilliant or salient inci-
dents, by the fortunes of a small class, and the great mass of ob-
scure, suffering, inarticulate humanity, whose happiness is often
so profoundly affected by political and military events, almost
escapes our notice. It should be the object of history to bring
before us past events in their true proportion and significance, and
one of the greatest improvements in modern history is the increased
attention which is paid to the social, industrial, and moral history
of the poor. The paucity of our information and the difficulty of
realizing the conditions of obscure multitudes will always make
this branch of history very imperfect, but it is one of the most
essential to the just judgment of the past. Another task which
lies before the historian is that of distinguishing proximate from
ultimate causes. Our first natural impulse is to attribute a great
change to the men who effected it and to the period in which it
took place, and to neglect or underrate the long train of causes
which had been, often through many generations, preparing its
advent.

A more fatal and very common error is that of judging the ac-
tions of the past by the moral standard of our own age. This is
especially the error of novices in history and of those who without
any wide and general culture devote themselves exclusively to a
single period. While the primary and essential elements of right
and wrong remain unchanged, nothing is more certain than that
the standard or ideal of duty is continually altering. A very hu-

354 BELATED PARAGRAPHS

mane man in another age may have done things which would now
be regarded as atrociously barbarous. A very virtuous man may
have done things which would now indicate extreme profligacy.
We seldom indeed make sufficient allowance for the degree in
which the judgments and dispositions of even the best men are
colored by the moral tone of the time or society in which they
live. And what is true of individuals is equally true of nations.
In order to judge equitably the legislation of any people, we must
always consider corresponding contemporary legislations and ideas.
When this is neglected our judgments of the past become wholly
false. — W. E. H. Lecky : Forum, February, 1893.

8. Bacon vs. Shakespeare.

When we are asked to believe that the whole of the plays and
poems attributed to Shakespeare were not written by him, but by
Lord Bacon, we naturally require evidence of the most convincing
kind. It must be shown either that Bacon did actually write them,
in which case of course Shakespeare was not their author, or that
Shakespeare could not possibly have written them, in which case
somebody else must have done so ; and we then demand proof that
Bacon could possibly, and did probably, write them. First, then, is
there any good evidence that Bacon did write them ? Positively
none whatever; only a number of vague hints and suggestions,
which might perhaps add some weight to an insufficient amount of
direct testimony, but in its absence are entirely valueless. And then
we have the enormous, the overwhelming improbability, that any
man would write, and allow to be published or acted, so wonder-
ful a series of poems and plays, while- another man received all the
honor and all the profits ; and, though surviving that man for ten
years, that the real author never made the slightest claim to them,
never confided the secret to a single friend, and died without a
word or a sign to show that he had any part or share in them.
To most persons this consideration alone will be conclusive against
Bacon's authorship.

The reasons alleged for believing that Shakespeare could not
have written them, are weak in the extreme. They amount to
this : That his early life was spent in a small country town ; that he
had not a university education j that most of his early associates

FOB ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 855

and connections were illiterate ; that his signatures were almost
unintelligible ; and that no single letter or manuscript exists in
his handwriting. The wide knowledge of human nature, of the
court and the nobility, and of classical and modern litera-
ture, could not, it is alleged, have been acquired by such a man.
But in making this objection, the opponents of Shakespeare take
no account of the most important of all the facts — of that fact
without which the production of these works is in any case unin-
telligible, the fact that their author was a transcendent genius ;
and further, that it is the especial quality of genius to be able to
acquire and assimilate knowledge, and to realize and interpret the
whole range of human passions, moods, and foibles, under conditions
that to ordinary men would be impossible. Admitting, as we
must admit, the genius, there is no difficulty, no improbability.
For the first twenty years of his conscious life, Shakespeare lived
in the midst of the calm and beautiful scenery of Warwickshire
and acquired that extensive knowledge and love of nature, and that
sympathy with all her moods and aspects, which are manifested
throughout his works. The lordly castles of Warwick and Kenil-
worth were within a dozen miles of Stratford, and at times of
festivity such castles were open house, and at all times would be
easily accessible through the friendship of servants or retainers ;
and thus might have been acquired some portion of that knowl-
edge of the manners and speech of nobles and kings which appears
in the historical plays. During his long residence in London,
crowded then as now with adventurers of all nations, he would
have had ample opportunity for studying human nature under
every possible aspect. The endearing terms applied to him by his
friends show that he had an attractive personality, and would
therefore easily gain access to many grades of society; while the
law courts at Westminster would afford ample opportunities for
extending that knowledge of law terms and legal processes which
he had probably begun to acquire by means of justices' sessions
and coroners* inquests in his native town. Through his foreign
acquaintances he might have obtained translations of some of those
Italian or Spanish tales which furnished a portion of his plots, and
which have been supposed to indicate an amount of learning he
could not have possessed. What genius can do under adverse cir-
cumstances and uncongenial surroundings, we see in the case of

866 BELATED PABAGRAPHS

Chatterton, of Keats, of Shelley. Shakespeare had much better
opportunities than any of these ; he was gifted with a far loftier
genius, a broader and more powerful intellect, a more balanced
and harmonious personality. Of this rare combination of quali*
ties and opportunities, his works are the natural and consistent
outcome. Alike in their depth, their beauty, their exquisite fancy,
their melodious harmony, and their petty defects, they are the
full expression of the man and his surroundings.

Let us consider, lastly, whether, supposing Shakespeare were
altogether out of the way. Bacon could possibly have written the
plays and poems. These works are universally admitted to ex-
hibit the very highest poetry, the most exquisite fancy, the deepest
pathos, the most inimitable humor. We are told by his admirers
that Bacon possessed all these qualities ; but when any attempt is
made to give us examples of them, we find only the most common-
place verse or labored and monotonous prose. We are told that
his sense of humor was phenomenal, that no man had a finer ear
for melody of speech — but again no examples are given. We are
told that he rewrote his " Essays " many times and gave them
"a thousand exquisite touches"; yet when we read them, and
search for these alleged beauties, either of poetic ideas or noble
and harmonious passages, we find only a polished mediocrity with
labored antitheses of epithets, as utterly remote from the glowing
thoughts and winged words of Shakespeare, as is the doggerel
version of the psalms by Sternhold and Hopkins, from the hymns
of Keble or the " In Memoriam " of Tennyson. — Alfred Russel
Wallace.

4. The Play within a Play,

There are cases occasionally occurring in the English drama
and the Spanish, where a play is exhibited within a play. To go
no further, every person remembers the remarkable instance of
this in Hamlet. Sometimes the same thing takes place in paint-
ing. We see a chamber, suppose, exhibited by the artist, on the
walls of which (as a customary piece of furniture) hangs a pic-
ture. And as this picture again might represent a room fur-
nished with pictures, in the mere logical possibility of the case
we might imagine this descent into a life below a life going on
ad infinitum. Practically, however, the process is soon stopped.

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 357

A retrocession of this nature is difficult to manage. The original
picture is a mimic, — an unreal life. But this unreal life is
itself a real life with respect to the secondary picture, if such a
thing were attempted. Consequently, at every step of the intro-
volutton (to neologize a little in a case justifying a neologism),
something must be done to differentiate the gradations, and. to
express the subordinations of life; because each term in the de-
scending series, being first of all a mode of non-reality to the
spectator, is next to assume the functions of a real life in its
relations to the next lower or interior term of the series.

What the painter does in order to produce this peculiar modi-
fication of appearances, so that an object shall affect us first of all
as an idealized or unreal thing, and next as itself a sort of relation
to some secondary object still more intensely unreal, we shall not
attempt to describe ; for in some technical points we should, per-
haps, fail to satisfy the reader; and without technical explana-
tions we could not satisfy the question. But, as to the poet, all
the depths of philosophy (at least, of any known and recognized
philosophy) would less avail to explain, speculatively, the prin-
ciples which, in such a case, should guide him, than Shakespeare
has explained by his practice. The problem before him was one
of his own suggesting ; the difficulty was of his own making. It
was, so to differentiate a drama that it might stand within a
drama, precisely as a painter places a picture within a picture ; and
therefore that the secondaiy or inner drama should be non-realized
upon a 'scale that would throw, by comparison, a reflex coloring of
reality upon the principal drama. This was the problem, — this
was the thing to be accomplished ; and the secret, the law, of the
process by which he accomplishes this is to swell, tumefy, stiffen,
not the diction only, but the tenor of the thought, — in fact, to
stilt it, and to give it a prominence and an ambition beyond the
scale which he adopted for his ordinary life. It is, of course,
therefore in rhyme, — an artifice which Shakespeare employs with
great effect on other similar occasions (that is, occasions when he
wished to solemnize or in any way differentiate the life) ; it is
condensed and massed as respects the flowing of the thoughts ; it
is rough and horrent with figures in strong relief, like the em-
bossed gold of an ancient vase ; and the movement of the scene
is contracted into short gyrations, so unlike the free sweep and

368 RELATED PARAGBAPBS

expansion of his general developments. — De Quincey : Theory of
Greek Tragedy,

5. The Formation of Public Opinion,

The simplest form in which public opinion presents itself is
when a sentiment spontaneously arises in the mind and flows from
the lips of the average man upon his seeing or hearing something
done or said. Homer presents this with his usual vivid directness
in the line which frequently recurs in the Iliad, when the effect
produced by a speech or event is to be conveyed : " And thus any
one was saying as he looked at his neighbor." This phrase de-
scribes what may be called the rudimentary stage of opinion. It
is the prevalent impression of the moment. It is what any man
(not every man) says, i.e, it is the natural and the general thought
or wish which an occurrence evokes. But before opinion begins
to tell upon government, it has to go through several other stages.
These stages are various in diiferent ages and countries. Let us
try to note what they are in England or America at the present
time, and how each stage g^rows out of the other.

A business man reads in his newspaper at breakfast the events
of the preceding day. He reads that Prince Bismarck has an-
nounced a policy of protection for German industry, or that Mr.
Henry George has been nominated for the mayoralty of New
York. These statements arouse in his mind sentiments of ap-
proval or disapproval, which may be strong or weak according
to his previous predilection for or against protection or Mr.
Henry George, and of course according to his personal in-
terest in the matter. They rouse also an expectation of
certain consequences likely to follow. Neither the sentiment
nor the expectation is based on processes of conscious reason-
ing — our business man has not time to reason at breakfast —
they are merely impressions formed on the spur of the moment.
He turns to the leading article in the newspaper, and his senti-
ments and expectations are confirmed or weakened according as
he finds that they are or are not shared by the newspaper writer.
He goes down to his office in the train, talks there to two or three
acquaintances, and perceives that they agree or do not agree with
his own still faint impressions. In his counting-house he finds

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 359

his partner and a bundle of other newspapers which he glances at ;
their words further affect him, and thus by the end of the day his
mind is beginning to settle down into a definite view, which ap-
proves or condemns Prince Bismarck's declaration or the nomina-
tion of Mr. George. Meanwhile a similar process has been going
on in the mind of others, and particularly of the journalists, whose
business it is to discover what people are thinking. The evening
paper has collected the opinions of the morning papers, and it is
rather more positive in its forecast of results. Next morning the
leading party journals have articles still more definite and positive
in approval or condemnation and in prediction of consequences to
follow ; and the opinion of ordinary minds, which in most of such
minds has been hitherto fluid and undetermined, has begun to
crystallize into a solid mass. This is the second stage. Then de-
bate and controversy begin. The men and the newspapers who
approve Mr. George's nomination argue with those who do not;
they find out who are friends and who opponents. The effect of
controversy is to drive the partisans on either side from some of
their arguments, which are shown to be weak ; to confirm them
in others, which they think strong ; and to make them take up a
definite position on one side. This is the third stage. The fourth
is reached when action becomes necessary. When a citizen has to
give a vote, he votes as a member of a party ; his party prepos-
sessions and party allegiance lay hold on him, and generally stifle
any individual doubts or repulsions he may feel. Bringing men
up to the polls is like passing a steam roller over stones newly
laid on a road : the angularities are pressed down, and an appear-
ance of smooth and even uniformity is given which did not exist
before. When a man has voted, he is committed : he has there-
after an interest in backing the view which he has sought to make
prevail. Moreover, opinion, which may have been manifold till
the polling, is thereafter generally twofold only. There is a view
which has triumphed and a view which has been vanquished.

— Bryce : American Commonwealth.

6. Carlyle's Laugh,

None of the many sketches of Carlyle that have been published
since his death have brought out (juite distinctly enough the thing

360 RELATED PARAGRAPHS

which struck me more forcibly than all else, when in the actual
presence of the man ; namely, tlie peculiar quality and expression
of his laugh. It need hardly be said that there is a good deal in
a laugh. One of the most telling pieces of oratory that ever
reached my ears was Victor Hugo's vindication, at the Voltaire
Centenary in Paris, of the smile of Voltaire. Certainly Carlyle's
laugh was not like that smile, but it was something as inseparable
from his personality, and as essential to the account, when making
up one's estimate of him. It was as individually characteristic as
his face or his dress, or his way of talking or of writing. It seemed
indeed indispensable for the explanation of all of these. I found
in looking back upon my first interview with him that all I had
known of Carlyle through others, or through his own books, for
twenty-five years had been utterly defective, — had left out, in
fact, the key to his whole nature, — inasmuch as nobody had ever
described to me his laugh. ...

After the most vehement tirade he would suddenly pause, throw
his head back, and give as genuine and kindly a laugh as I ever
heard from a human being. It was not the bitter laugh of a cynic,
nor yet the big-bodied laugh of the burly joker ; least of all was
it the thin and rasping cackle of the dyspeptic satirist. But it
was a broad, honest, human laugh, which beginning in the brain,
took into its action the whole heart and diaphragm, and instantly
changed the worn face into something frank and even winning,
giving to it an expression that would have won the confidence of
any child. Nor did it convey the impression of an exceptional
thing that had occurred for the first time that day, and might
never happen again. It rather produced the effect of something
habitual ; of being the channel, well worn for years, by which the
overflow of a strong nature was discharged. It cleared the air
like thunder, and left the atmosphere sweet. It seemed to say to
himself, if not to us, " Do not let us take this too seriously ; it is
my way of putting things. What refuge is there for a man who
looks below the surface in a world like this, except to laugh now
and then? " The laugh, in short, revealed the humorist ; if I said
the genial humorist, wearing a mask of grimness, I should hardly
go too far for the impression it left. At any rate it shifted the
ground, and transferred the whole matter to that realm of thought
where men play with things. The instant Carlyle laughed, he'

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 861

seemed to take the counsel of his old friend Emerson, and to write
upon the lintels of his doorway, " Whim."

— Higginson : A tlantic, 48, 463-4.

7. Rowing a Grondola.

A gondola is in general rowed only by one man, standing at the
stem ; those of the upper classes having two or more boatmen, for
greater speed and magnificence. In order to raise the oar suflS-
ciently, it rests, not on the side of the boat, but on a piece of crooked
timber like the branch of a tree, rising about a foot from the boat's
side, and called a " fdrcola." The forcola is of different forms, ac-
cording to the size and uses of the boat, and it is always somewhat
complicated in its parts and curvature, allowing the oar various
kinds of rests and catches on both its sides, but perfectly free play
in all cases ; as the management ol the boat depends on the gon-
dolier's being able in an instant to place his oar in any position.
The forcola is set on the right-hand side of the boat, some six feet
from the stern : the gondolier stands on a little flat platform or
deck behind it, and throws nearly the entire weight of his body upon
the forward stroke. The effect of the stroke would be naturally to
turn the boat's head round to the left, as well as to send it for-
ward; but this tendency is corrected by keeping the blade of the
oar under the water on the return stroke, and raising it gradually,
as a full spoon is raised out of any liquid, so that the blade emerges
from the water only an instant before it again plunges. A down-
ward and lateral pressure upon the forcola is thus obtained, which
entirely counteracts the tendency given by the forward stroke:
and the effort, after a little practice, becomes hardly conscious,
though, as it adds some labor to the back stroke, rowing a gondola
at speed is hard and breathless work, though it appears easy and
graceful to the looker-on.

If then the gondola is to be turned to the left, the forward im-
pulse is given without the return stroke; if it is to be turned to
the right, the plunged oar is brought forcibly up to the surface ;
in either case a single stroke being enough to turn the light and
flat-bottomed boat. But as it has no keel, when the turn is made
sharply, as out of one canal into another very narrow one, the
impetus of the boat in its former direction gives it an enormous
leeway, and it drifts laterally up against the wall of the canal, and

362 BELATED PAMAQRAPHS

that so forcibly, that if it has turned at speed, no gondolier can
arrest the motion merely by strength or rapidity of stroke of oar ;
but it is checked by a strong thrust of the foot against the wall it-
self, the head of the boat being of course turned for the moment
almost completely round to the opposite wall, and greater exertion
made to give it, as quickly as possible, impulse in the new direction.

— Ruskin : Stones of Venice.

8. A Fable of To-day.

Two astronomers were once talking about the other side of the
moon. " I think," said the first, " that the other side of the moon
is absolutely and perfectly flat, without imperfection, uneven ness
or mark of any kind." "It may be so," replied the other. "But
the fact that the side which we see is very rough and uneven would
seem to weigh against your theory." " No matter," said the first,
" our society holds that the other side of the moon, as originally
made, is without error or imperfection of any kind. If you object
to this you may, in fact you must, retire from the observatory."
" But," said the other, " may I not study the side of the moon
which I can see? " " No, indeed ! " was the reply. " No man can
be allowed to use these instruments who does not subscribe to the
inerrancy of the moon's other side ; it*s a fiat doctrine of this ob-
servatory, and must be believed, in order to the right seeing of any
or all of the heavenly bodies."

Moral: This is a very simple way of settling such questions.
But in reality the decision of the astronomer did not affect the
facts, nor did it prevent the heretic from studying the face of the
moon which was visible. — New York Evangelist.

9. An Act repugnant to the Constitution cannot become
the Law of the Land.

The question whether an act repugnant to the Constitution
can become the law of the land is a question deeply interesting to
the United States; but, happily, not of an intricacy proportioned
to its interest. It seems only necessary to recognize certain princi-
ples supposed to have been long and well established to decide it.

That the people have an original right to establish for their

FOS ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 868

future government such principles as in their opinion shall most
conduce to their own happiness is the basis on which the whole
American fabric has been erected. The exercise of this original
right is a very great exertion, nor can it, nor ought it to be fre-
quently repeated. The principles, therefore, so established are
deemed fundamental. And as the authority from which they
proceed is supreme and can seldom act, they are designed to be
permanent.

This original and supreme will organizes the government, and
assigns to different departments their repective powers. It may
either stop, here or establish certain limits not to be transcended
by those departments.

The government of the United States is of the latter descrip-
tion. The powers of the Legislature are defined and limited ; and
that those limits may not be mistaken or forgotten the Constitu-
tion is written. To what purpose are powers limited and to what
purpose is the limitation committed to writing, if these limits
may at any time be passed by those intended to be restrained ?
The distinction between a government with limited and unlimited
powers is abolished if those limits do not confine the persons on
whom they are imposed and if acts prohibited and acts allowed
are of equal obligation. It is a proposition too plain to be con-
tested, that the Constitution controls any legislative act repugnant
to it ; or that the Legislature may alter the Constitution by an
ordinary act.

Between these alternatives there is no middle ground. The
Constitution is either a superior, paramount law, unchangeable
by ordinary means, or it is on a level with ordinary legislative
acts, and like other acts is alterable when the Legislature shall
please to alter it.

If the former part of the alternative be true, then a legislative
act contrary to the Constitution is not law; if the latter part be
true, then written Constitutions are absurd attempts on the part
of the people to limit a power in its own nature illimitable.

Certainly all those who have framed written Constitutions con-
template them as forming the fundamental and paramount law of
the nation, and consequently the theory of every such government
must be that an act of the Legislature repugnant to the Constitu-
tion is void.

364 RELATED PARAGRAPHS

This theory is essentially attached to a "written Constitution,
and is consequently to be considered by this court as one of the
fundamental principles of our society. It is not, therefore, to be
lost sight of in the further consideration of this subject.

If an act of the Legislature repugnant to the Constitution is
void, does it, notwithstanding its invalidity, bind the courts and
oblige them to give it effect ? Or, in other words, though it be not
law, does it constitute a rule as operative as if it was a law ? This
would be to overthrow in fact what was established in theory, and
would seem, at first view, an absurdity too gross to be insisted on.
It shall, however, receive a more attentive consideration.

— John Marshall : Constitutional Decisions,

10. Corporations.

A corporation is an artificial being, invisible, intangible, and
existing only in contemplation of law. Being the mere creature
of law, it possesses only those properties which the charter of its
creation confers upon it, either expressly, or as incidental to its
very existence. These are such as are supposed best calculated
to effect the object for which it was created. Among the most
important are immortality, and, if the expression may be allowed,
individuality ; properties by which a perpetual succession of many
persons are considered as the same and may act as a single indi-
vidual. They enable a corporation to manage its own affairs, and
to hold property without the perplexing intricacies, the hazardous
and endless necessity, of perpetual conveyances for the purpose of
transmitting it from hand to hand. It is chiefly for the purpose
of clothing bodies of men, in succession, with these qualities and
capacities, that corporations were invented and are in use. By
these means a perpetual succession of individuals are capable of
acting for the promotion of the particular object, like one immortal
being. But this being does not share in the civil government of
the country, unless that be the purpose for which it was created.
Its immortality no more confers on it political power, or a political
character, than immortality would confer such power or character
on a natural person. It is no more a State instrument than a
natural person exercising the same powers would be. If, then,

FOB ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 365

a natural person, employed by individuals in the education of
youth, or for the government of a seminary in which youth is
educated, would not become a public officer, or be considered
as a member of the civil government, hoW is it that this artificial
being, created by law for the purpose of being employed by the
same individuals for the same purposes, should become a part of
the civil government of the country ? Is it because its existence,
its capacities, its powers, are given by law ? Because the govern-
ment has given it the power to take and to hold property in a par-
ticular form, and for particular purposes, has the government a
consequent right substantially to change that form, or to vary the
purposes to which the property is to be applied ? This principle
has never been asserted or recognized, and is supported by no
authority. Can it derive aid from reason ?

The objects for which a coi-poration is created are universally
such as the government wishes to promote. They are deemed
beneficial to the country ; and this benefit constitutes the con-
sideration, and, in most cases, the sole consideration of the grant.
In most eleemosynary institutions the object would be difficult,
perhaps unattainable, without the aid of a charter of incorpora-
tion. Charitable or public spirited individuals, desirous of making
permanent appropriations for charitable and other useful purposes,
find it impossible to effect their design securely and certainly with-
out an incorporating act. They apply to the government, state
their beneficent object, and offer to advance the money necessary
for its accomplishment, provided the government will confer on
the instrument which is to execute their designs the capacity to
execute them. The proposition is considered and approved. The
benefit to the public is considered as an ample compensation for
the faculty it confers, and the corporation is created. If the ad-
vantages to the public constitute a full compensation for the
faculty it gives, there can be no reason for exacting a further
compensation, by claiming a right to exercise over this artificial
being a power which changes its nature, and touches the fund for
the security and application of which it was created. There can
be no reason for implying in a charter, given for a valuable con-
sideration, a power which is not only not expressed, but is in
direct contradiction to its express stipulations.

— John Marshall: Constitutional Decisions.

RELATED PARAGBAPH8

11. An Alpine Adventure.

We at length reached the point at which it was necessary to
quit our morning's track, and immediately afterwards got upon
some steep rocks which were rendered slippery here and there by
the water which trickled over them. To our right was a broad
couloir, which was once filled with snow, but this had been melted
and refrozen, so as to expose a sloping wall of ice. We were all
tied together at this time in the following order : Jenni led, I
came next, then my friend H., our intrepid mountaineer, then his
friend L., and last of all the guide Walter. L. had had but little
experience of the higher Alps, and was placed in front of Walter,
so that any false step on his part might be instantly checked.
After descending the rocks for a time, Jenni turned and asked me
whether I thought it better to adhere to them, or to try the ice-slope
to our right. I pronounced in favor of the rocks ; but he seemed
to misunderstand me, and turned towards the couloir. I stopped
him before he reached it, and said, " Jenni, you know where you
are going, the slope is pure ice ? *• He replied, " I know it, but the
ice is quite bare for a few yards only. Across this exposed por-
tion I will cut steps, and then the snow which covers the ice will
give us footing." He cut the steps, reached the snow, and de-
scended carefully along it — all following him, apparently in good
order. After a little time he stopped, turned, and looked upward
at the last three men. He said something about keeping carefully
to the tracks, adding that a false step might detach an avalanche.
The word was scarcely uttered when I heard the sound of a fall
behind me, then a rush, and in the twinkling of an eye my
two friends and their guide — all apparently entangled together,
whirled past me. I suddenly planted myself to resist their shock,
but in an instant I was in their wake, for their impetus was irre-
sistible. A moment afterwards Jenni was whirled away, and thus
all of us found ourselves riding downwards with uncontrollable
speed on the back of an avalanche which a single slip had origi-
nated.

When thrown back by the jerk of the rope, I turned promptly
on my face, and drove my baton through the moving snow, seeking
to anchor it in the ice underneath. I had held it firmly thus for a

FOM Al^ Air Sis AND CBlTlCtSM. 867

few seconds, when I came into collision with some obstacle, and
was rudely tossed through the air, Jenni at the same time being
shot down upon me. Both of us here lost our batons. We had,
in fact, been carried over a crevasse, had hit its lower edge, our
great velocity causing us to be pitched beyond it. I was quite be-
wildered for a moment, but immediately righted myself, and could
see those in front of me half buried in the snow, and jolted from
side to side by the ruts, among which they were passing. Sud-
denly I saw them tumbled over by a lurch of the avalanche, and
immediately afterwards found myself imitating their motion.
This was caused by a second crevasse. Jenni knew of its exist-
ence, and plunged right into it — a brave and manful action, but
for the time unavailing. He was over thirteen stone in weight,
and he thought that by jumping into the chasm a strain might be
put upon the rope sufl&cient to check the motion. He was, how-
ever, violently jerked out of the fissure, and almost squeezed to
death by the pressure of the rope.

A long slope was before us, which led directly downwards to a
brow where the glacier suddenly fell in a declivity of ice. At the
base of this declivity the glacier was cut by a series of profound
chasms ; and towards these we were now rapidly borne. The three
foremost men rode upon the forehead of the avalanche, and were
at times almost wholly immersed in the snow; but the moving
layer was thinner behind, and Jenni rose incessantly, and with
desperate energy drove his feet into the firmer substance under-
neath. His voice shouting, " Halt, Herr Jesus, halt I " was the only
one heard during the descent. A kind of condensed memory,
such as that described by people who have narrowly escaped
drowning, took possession of me ; and I thought and reasoned with
preternatural clearness as I rushed along. Our start, however,
was too sudden, and the excitement too great, to permit of the
development of terror. The slope at one place became less steep,
the speed visibly slackened, and we thought we were coming to
rest; the avalanche, however, crossed the brow which terminated
this gentler slope, and regained its motion. Here H. drew his
arm round his friend, all hope for the time being extinguished,
while I grasped my belt and struggled for an instant to detach
myself. Finding this difl&cult, I resumed the pull upon the rope.
My share in the work was, I fear, infinitesimal; but Jenni's power-

368 RELATED PARAGRAPHS

ful strain made itself felt at last. Aided probably by a slight
change of inclination, he brought the whole to rest within a short
distance of the chasm, over which, had we preserved our speed, a
few seconds would have carried us. None of us suffered serious
damage. H. emerged from the snow with his forehead bleeding ;
but the wouftd was superficial. Jenni had a bit of flesh removed
from his hand by collision against a stone; the pressure of the
rope had left black welts on my arms; and we all experienced a
tingling sensation over the hands, like that produced by incipient
frostbite, which continued for several days. I found a portion of
my watch-chain hanging round my neck, another portion in my
pocket, the watch itself gone. — Tyndall : Hours of Exercise in the
Alps.

12. Travelling in Spain.

Quitting Manzanal, we continued our course. We soon arrived
at the verge of a deep valley amongst the mountains — not those
of the chain which we had seen before us, and which we now left
to the right, but those of the Telleno range, just before they unite
with that chain. Round the sides of this valley, which exhibited
something of the appearance of a horseshoe, wound the road in a
circuitous manner ; just before us, however, and diverging from the
road, lay a foot-path, which seemed, by a gradual descent, to lead
across the valley, and to rejoin the road on the other side, at the
distance of about a furlong ; and into this we struck, in order to
avoid the circuit.

We had not gone far before we met two Galicians on their way
to cut the harvests of Castile. One of them shouted, " Cavalier,
turn back : in a moment you will be amongst precipices, where
your horses will break their necks, for we ourselves could scarcely
climb them on foot." The other cried, " Cavalier, proceed, but be
careful, and your horses, if surefooted, will run no great danger :
my comrade is a fool." A violent dispute instantly ensued be-
tween the two mountaineers, each supporting his opinion with
loud oaths and curses ; but without stopping to see the result, I
passed on ; but the path was now filled with stones and huge slaty
rocks, on which my horse was continually slipping. I likewise
heard the sound of water in a deep gorge, which I had hitherto
not perceived, and I soon saw that it would be worse than mad-

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 369

ness to proceed. I turned my horse, and was hastening to regain
the path which I had left, when Antonio, my faithful Greek,
pointed out to me a meadow by which he said we might regain
the high road much lower down than if we turned on our steps.
The meadow was brilliant with short green grass, and in the
middle there was a small rivulet of water. I spurred my horse on,
expecting to be in the high road in a moment; the horse, how-
ever, snorted and stared wildly, and was evidently unwilling to
cross the seemingly inviting spot. I thought that the scent of a
wolf or some other wild animal might have disturbed him, but
was soon undeceived by his sinking up to the knees in a bog. The
animal uttered a shrill, sharp neigh, and exhibited every sign of
the greatest terror, making at the same time great efforts to ex-
tricate himself, and plunging forward, but every moment sinking
deeper. At last he arrived where a small vein of rock showed it-
self : on this he placed his fore feet, and with one tremendous ex-
ertion freed himself from the deceitful soil, springing over the
rivulet and alighting on comparatively firm ground, where he
stood panting, his heaving sides covered with a foamy sweat.
Antonio, who had observed the whole scene, afraid to venture
forward, returned by the path by which we came, and shortly
afterwards rejoined me. This adventure brought to ray recollec-
tion the meadow with its foot-path which tempted Christian from
the straight road to heaven, and finally conducted him to the
dominions of the giant Despair. — Borrow : The Bible in Spain.

13. The Wreck of the Warren Hastings.

They had stopped at the foot of the cone, which was between
them and the sea, and some more adventurous had climbed partly
up it, if perhaps they might see further than their fellows ; but in
vain: they all saw and heard the same — a blinding white cal-
dron of white-driven spray below, and all around, filling every
cranny — the howling storm.

A quarter of an hour since she fired last, and no signs of her
yet. She must be carrying canvas and struggling for life, ignorant
of the four-knot stream. Some one says she may have gone down
— hush I who spoke ?

Old Sam Evans had spoken. He had laid his hand on the

870 BELATED PARAGRAPHS

squire's shoulder, and said, " There she is." And then arose a
hubbub of talking from the men, and every one crqwded on his
neighbor and tried to get nearer. And the women moved hur-
riedly about, some moaning to themselves, and some saying, " Ah,
poor dear 1 " " Ah, dear Lord I there she is, sure enough."

She hove in sight so rapidly that, almost as soon as they could
be sure of a dark object, they saw that it was a ship — a great ship
of about nine hundred tons ; that she was dismasted, and that her
decks were crowded. They could see that she was Unmanageable,
turning her head hither and thither as the sea struck her, and that
her people had seen the cliff at the same moment, for they were
hurrying aft, and crowding on to the bulwarks.

Charles and his guardians crept up to his father's party. Densil
was standing silent, looking on the lamentable sight; and, as
Charles looked at him, he saw a tear run down his cheek, and
heard him say, " Poor fellows ! " Cuthbert stood staring intently
at the ship, with his lips slightly parted. Mackworth, like one
who studies a picture, held his elbow in one hand, and kept the
other over his mouth ; and the agent cried out, " A troop-ship, by
gad. Dear I Dear ! "

It is a sad sight to see a fine ship beyond control. It is like
seeing one one loves gone mad. Sad under any circumstances ;
how terrible it is when she is bearing on with her in her mad
Bacchante's dance a freight of living human creatures, to untimely
destruction I

As each terrible feature and circumstance of the catastrophe
became apparent to the lookers-on, the excitement became more
intense. Forward and in the waist, there was a considerable body
of seamen clustered about under the bulwarks — some half -stripped.
In front of the cuddy door, between the poop and the mainmast,
about forty soldiers were drawn up, with whom were three ofl&cers,
to be distinguished by their blue coats and swords. On the quarter-
deck were seven or eight women, two apparently ladies, one of whom
carried a baby. A well-dressed man, evidently the captain, was
with them ; but the cynosure of all eyes was a tall man in white
trousers, at once and correctly judged to be the mate, who carried
in his arms a little girl.

The ship was going straight upon the rock, now only marked,
as a whiter spot upon the whitened sea, and she was fearfully

FOR ANALYSIS AND CRITICISM. 371

near it, rolling and pitching, turning her head hither and thither,
fighting for her life. She had taken comparatively little water orr
board as yet ; but now a great sea struck her forward, and she swung
with her bow towards the rock, from which she was distant not a
hundred yards. The end was coming. Charles saw the mate slip
oft his coat and shirt, and take the little girl again. Hie saw the
lady with the baby rise very quietly and look forward; he saw the
sailors climbing on the bulwarks; he saw the soldiers standing
steady in two scarlet lines across the deck ; he saw the officers
wave their hands to one another, and then he hid his face in his
hands, and sobbed as if his heart would break.

They told him after how the end had come ; she had lifted up
her bows defiantly, and brought them crashing down upon the
pitiless rock as though in despair. Then her stern had swung
round, and a merciful sea broke over her, and hid her from their
view, though above the storm they plainly heard her brave old
timbers crack ; then she floated off, with bulwarks gone, sinking,
and drifted out of sight round the headland, and, though they
raced across the headland, and waited a few breathless minutes
for her to float round into sight again, they never saw her any more.
The Warren Hastings had gone down in fifteen fathom. And now
there was a new passion introduced into the tragedy, to which it
had hitherto been a stranger — Hope. The wreck of part of the
mainmast and half the main topmast, which they had seen, before
she struck, lumbering the deck, had floated off, and there were
three, four, five men clinging to the futtock shrouds ; and then,
they saw the mate with the child hoist himself on to the spar, and
part his dripping hair from his eyes.

The spar had floated into the bay, into which they were look-
ing, into much calmer water ; but, directly to leeward the swell
was tearing at the black slate rocks, and in ten minutes it would
be on them. Every man saw the danger, and Densil, running
down to the water's edge, cried : —

" Fifty pound to any one who will take 'em a rope I Fifty gold
sovereigns down to-night I Who's going ? "

Jim Mathews was going, and had been going before he heard
of the fifty pound — that was evident ; for he was stripped, and
out on the rocks with the rope round his waist. He stepped from
the bank of slippery seaweed into the heaving water, and then his

872 BELATED PABAGBAPH8.

magnificent limbs were in full battle with the tide. A roar an-
nounced his success. As he was seen clambering on to the spar,
a stouter rope was paid out ; and very soon it and its burden were
high and dry upon the little half-moon of sand which ended the
bay. — Kingsley : Bavenshoe.

APPENDIX B.

MATERIALS FOR SPECIAL EXERCISES.

Exercises in Paragraph Unity.

The following outlines (or similar ones, provided by the
instructor, and better adapted to the grade and attainments
of the class) may be employed in a profitable exercise for
teaching the need of paragraphic unity. Let one of the
numbered topics of an outline be assigned to each student.
He is to write a paragc^h on his topic for the next recita-
tion, keeping in mimi what ought to be said on the topics
preceding and foUowing his own, and determining what
properly belong^ to the topic assigned to himself. At the
appointed time^ the paragraphs are read in their numbered
order in class, together forming an essay on the subject.
Any interriiingling of topics or violation of unity is criti-
cised, transitions between sentences and paragraphs are
supplie.d, various methods of treating the same topics are
compared, and the need that each student "stick to his
te'xt" is duly enforced. Such points as choice of words,
variety of expression, and construction of sentences will
also call for attention. It has been found profitable to
continue this work for several recitations and at intervals
throughout the course.

1. UseB of Novel Reading,

1. Introductory. Increase of novel reading to be explamed by its

uses.

2. Affords relaxation and entertainment.

3. A valuable aid to the study of history and geography.

373

374 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

4. Information about various classes of society.

5. Reforms brought about in law, education, etc. Dickens.

6. Insight into human character, making the reader more charita-

ble in his judgments of others.

7. Conclusion. A summary.

2. Importance of PhyBical Culture.

1. Promotes health and prevents disease.

2. Increases strength and endurance.

3. Trains the muscles to act with accuracy, making more eflBcient

workers.

4. Influence on the mind.

5. Moral influence.

3. The Combat, QScoth^ Talisman,'')

1. Time, Third Crusade. Place, the Diam?^d of the Desert. Per-

sons, Sir Kenneth and Conrad.

2. Preparations.

(a) Arming.

(b) The herald's proclamation.

(d) The invocation. \

3. The encounter. \
(rt) Signal.

(b) Start. ^-^

(d) Meeting.

4. Result of the combat. Effect in settling the dispute.

Classroom Themes.

As a corrective for the bookishness that will often ap-
pear in the paragraphs written outside the class, it will be
well for the student to write frequently, in the classroom,
paragraphs on simple familiar subjects. The time for writ-
ing should be limited to twenty or thirty minutes, at the
expiration of which members of the cl^ss should be called

CLASSROOM THEMES. 376

upon at random to read what they have written, the class
and instructor joining in the criticism. This exercise may
be continued advantageously throughout the course. Con-
stant practice in writing under pressure produces rapidity,
facility, naturalness, and, individuality of expression. At
first it will be well to allow each student to select his own
subject and to determine what he will say about it, before
coming to the class. Later, the exercise should be wholly
/impromptu. Subjects of immediate local interest about
which the student community is talking and thinking at
the time are especially valuable for this impromptu work.
Subjects which have come up during the week in the his-
tory and literature classes may also be utilized in this work.
The following are printed merely to show the range and
character of subjects that may be employed in this connec-
tion. They are necessarily general in character, whereas
the actual subjects given should be specific. The instructor
will be able to supplement this list with other subjects of
more immediate interest and better adapted to the grade
and attainments of his class. A choice of subjects should,
if possible, be offered at all times.

1. Why do many dislike the study of rhetoric?

2. Advantages of literary societies.

3. Proper observance of Sunday by students.

4. Manners in the classroom.

5. Advantages of the work in manual training.

6. What does the school most need? Reasons.

7. How may a student best divide his time?

8. Some of the uses of writing frequently.

9. Why we lost the last ball game.

10. Why I like or dislike the last book I read.

11. A defence of Shylock.

12. Arguments against long examinations.

The work which the class may be doing in other branches
of study will frequently suggest numerous themes for im-

376 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

promptus. Thus, if the composition class is also working
in English history, themes like the following may occasion-
ally be given : —

1. Life of our ancestors in Germany.

2. How our ancestors punished crime.

3. Roman influences in England.

4. A description of the Conqueror's reforms.

5. Wat Tyler's Rebellion.

6. The scene at Runnyniede.

7. The work of the Star-chamber.

8. The story of Mary Queen of Scots.

9. Jack Cade's Rebellion.

10. Story of Thomas k Becket.

11. Richard and the princes.

12. The Royal Oak.

13. The Spanish Armada.

Thus, too, if the composition class is also doing work in
reading and studying English authors or American authors,
themes in abundance may be chosen in the direct line of
their work. To illustrate ; a class studying Longfellow, and
reading some of his poems, might properly be given themes
like the following : —

1. Longfellow at Bowdoin and at Harvard.

2. The great sorrow of Longfellow's life.

3. How Edgar A. Poe regarded Longfellow.

4. A description of Longfellow's home.
6. The story of the children's armchair.

6. Longfellow's friends.

7. The main points of Morituri Salutamus.

8. Longfellow's travels.

9. The story of Evangeline.

10. The story of Miles Stan dish.

11. The story of one of the Tales of a Wayside Inn.

12. Longfellow's ideas of slavery.

13. A scene from Hiawatha,

REPRODUCTIONS. 377

Subjects for short impromptus in narration and description
are found in abundance. The writing of such paragraphs
constitutes the greater part of the work of newspaper men,
and, indeed, of almost all writing, and a large amount of
such practice should be given. The list appended will sug-
gest the class of subjects suitable for this work. Others of
more local interest should be provided.

1. A description of a sleighride.

2. A report of the last lecture I heard.

3. How* I spent the holidays.

4. The coasting party.

5. A' description of the ball game.

6. Antics of a fountain pen.

7. The new building.

8. Views from my window.

9. The room in which we recite.

10. The reading room.

11. A day camping.

12. My experience at fishing.

13. A personal adventure.

14. Loss of a trunk.

15. A visit to an art gallery.

16. A visit to a machine shop.

17. Below the falls at Niagara.

18. A report of the last concert.

19. An historical incident.

20. A story from General Grant's life.

21. A letter describing my school life.

22. A report of last Sunday's sermon.

Reproductions.

It is advisable, in beginning this work, for the instructor,
after having read the selection, to develop with the class
an orderly outline of topics to be followed by all. This
will be found advantageous until the habit of detecting the
principal points of a selection has been formed, when each

378 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

student may be left to make his own selection of topics.
The following directions will be helpful to the student in
making his outline ; (1) Select but few general topics and
those the main ideas of the piece read, (2) express each
topic briefly and clearly, (3) do not repeat the same idea
in two or more places, (4) see that none of the main points
are omitted, (5) rearrange the topics selected, so that the
order will be natural.

The following contain selections qr are themselves of
suitable length for reading by the instructor, outlining, and
reproduction by the class within the limits of a recitation
hour ; —

1. Selections from Irving*s Sketch-Book.

2. Anderson's Historical Reader.

3. Swinton's Studies in English Literature.

4. Readings from English History, by J. R. Green.

5. The Student's Reader, by Richard Edwards.

6. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book and Tanglewood Tales.

7. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales.

8. Garnett's English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria. .

9. Genung's Rhetorical Analysis.

10. Cathcart's Literary Reader.

11. Andrew Lang's Letters to Dead Authors.

12. Hamerton's Intellectual Life.

13. Parton's Life of Jackson.

14. Dickens's Pickwick Papers, — short stories in Vol. L, chaps.

3, 6, 11, 13, 14, portraits in chaps. 15, 17, 21, 25, others in
Vol. II.

15. Irving's Tales of the Alhambra.

16. Addison's Vision of Mirza.

17. Burroughs's Birds and Bees.

18. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

19. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal.

20. Lowell's The Singing Leaves.

21. Matthew Arnold's The Forsaken Merman.

22. Whittier's Skipper Ireson's Ride.

23. Bryant's Ode to a Waterfowl.

REPRODUCTIONS. 379

24. Holmes's Chambered Nautilus.

25. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night.

26. Burns's John Barleycorn.

27. Longfellow's Bell of Atri.

28. Leigh Hunt's Abou Ben Adhem.

29. Whittier's Voices of Freedom.

30. Whittier's Pipes at Lucknow.

31. Whittier's Ballads.

32. Longfellow's Shorter Poems.

33. The Humbler Poets.

34. Proctor's Half -hours with the Stars.

35. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare.

36. Scudder's Book of Folk Stories.

37. Lanier's The Boy's King Arthur.

38. Lanier's The Boy's Percy.

39. Knox's Boy Travellers.

40. Burke's Speeches.

41. Studies from Euripides. (Morley's Univ. Libr.)

42. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair.

43. Thompson's Green Mountain Boys.

44. Gray's How Plants Behave.

45. Landor's Imaginary Conversations.

46. Bulwer's Last Days of Pompeii.

47. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome.

48. Tennyson's Sir Galahad.

49. Whittier's Tent on the Beach and Snow-Bound.

50. Scott's Tales of a Grandfather.

51. Church's Story of the Iliad.

52. Church's Story of the ^neid.

53. Hanson's Stories from Vergil.

54. Church's Stories from Homer.

55. Winchell's Sketches of Creation.

56. Church's Roman Life in the Days of Cicero.

57. Bret Harte's Luck of Roaring Camp.

58. Selections from Plutarch's Lives.

59. Selections from Pepys's Diary.

60. Headley's Napoleon and His Marshals.

61. Thackeray's Roundabout Papers.

62. Gayley's Classic Myths in English Literature.

380 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

Paraphrases and Abstracts.

(Outside Work.)

The following list is made up of books contaiDing chap-
ters especially adapted to this work, and of articles, or
essays, in which the plan of construction is prominent and
admirable. The selections are too long for reading in class
and are intended for special assignment as outside work, a
written paraphrase, abstract, or outline to be presented in
class by the student.

1 . Parsons. The Saloon in Society. Atlantic, 59 : 86.

2. Cable. The Freedman's Case in Equity. Century, 7 : 409.

3. Cable. The Silent South. Century, 8 : 674.

4. Lander. Steele and Addison. Works, Vol. 5.

5. De Foe. The Fire of London.

6. Johnson. Life of Addison.

7. Macaulay. Essay on History.

8. Quincy. Invasion of Canada. Speeches, p. 355.

9. Sumner. Are We a Nation ? Works, 12 : 191.

10. Sumner. No Property in Man. Works, 8 : 359.

11. Sumner. Duties of Massachusetts. Works, 3:121.

12. Everett. American Literature. Orations, 1.

13. Webster. The Constitution not a Compact. Works, 3.

14. Lowell. The Independent in Politics. Essays, 295.

15. Walker. Socialism. Scribner (N. S.), 1 : 107.

16. Lowell. Democracy, p. 3-42.

17. Macaulay. On the Athenian Orators.

18. Short. Claims to the Discovery of America. Galaxy, 20 : 50.

19. Fiske. The Federal Union. Harper, 70 : 407.

20. Higginson. The Era of Good Feeling. Harper, 68 : 936.

21. Kingsley. The Fount of Science. Nat'l Sermons, 108-133.

22. George Eliot. Address to Working Men. Essays, 322.

23. Whately. Historic Doubts Relative to Napoleon, p. 11-85.

24. Dawes. An Unknown Nation. Harper, 76 : 598.

25. Warner. Comments on Canada. Harper, 78 : 520.

26. Sill. Should a College Educate? Atlantic, 56 : 207.

27. White. On Reading Shakespeare. Galaxy, 22 : 518.

PARAPHRASES AND ABSTRACTS. 381

28. House. The Thraldom of Japan. Atlantic, 60 : 721.

29. Mulford. The Object of a University. Atlantic, 58 : 767.

30. Powell. The Failure of Protection. Fraser, 104 : 99.

31. Froude. The Book of Job. Short Studies, 1 : 228.

32. Howell. Strikes. Fraser, 101 : 118.

33. Black. The Electoral Conspiracy. No. Am., 125 : 1.

34. White. Popular Pie. Galaxy, 18 : 532.

35. White. Americanisms. Galaxy, 24 : 376.

36. Gladstone. Kin beyond Sea. Gleanings, 1 : 203.

37. Gladstone. Aggressions on Egypt. Gleanings, 4 : 341.

38. Gladstone. Work of Universities. Gleanings, 7: 1.

39. Gladstone. Wedgwood. Gleanings, 2 : 181.

40. Froude. England's War. Short Studies, 2 : 382.

41. Froude. Party Politics. Short Studies, 3 : 309.

42. Freeman. George Washington. Greater Greece, etc., 62.

43. Green, ^neas. Studies, etc., 227.

44. Welles. History of Emancipation. Galaxy, 14 : 838.

45. Coan. The Value of life. Galaxy, 15 : 751.

46. Spencer. Philosophy of Style. Essays, 9.

47. Sumner. Politics in America. No. Am., 122 : 47.

48. Roosevelt. Recent Criticism of America. Murray's Mag.,

4 : 289.

49. Arnold. General Grant. Murray's Mag., 1 : 130.

50. Allen. Land-owning and Copyright. Fraser, 102 : 343.

51. Howell. Trades Unions. Fraser, 99 : 22.

52. Arnold. Introducion to Wordsworth's Poems.

53. Arnold. Literature and Dogma.

54. Arnold. Litroduction to Johnson's Chief Lives.

55. Arnold. Introduction to Ward's English Poets.

56. Taine. Introduction to History of English Literature.

57. De Quincey. Essay on English Language. Works, 3.

58. Fiske. Manifest Destiny. Essays.

59. Tyndall. Scientific Use of the Imagination.

60. Bagehot. Physics and Politics.

61. Bagehot. The English Constitution and Other Essays.

62. Lecky. History of Rationalism.

63. Mill. Dissertations and Discussions.

64. Fiske. Darwinism and Other Essays.

65. Pater. Appreciations.

382 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

66. Cleveland. The Venezuelan Boundary Controversy. Cent-

ury, 62 : 283 and 405.

67. Matthews. The Simplification of English Spelling. Cent-

ury, 62 : 617.

68. Winchester. John Wesley. Century, 66 : 389 and 492.

69. Parsons. The Panama CanaL Century, 71 : 138.

70. Bolles. The Rights and Methods of Labor Organizations.

No. Am., 176 : 410.

71. An American Business Man. The Monroe Doctrine a Bar to

Civilization. No. Am., 176 : 518.

72. Charlton. Canada and Reciprocity. No. Am., 178 : 205.

73. Crichfield. The Panama Canal from a Contractor's Stand-

point. No. Am., 180 : 74.

74. Beach. Educational Reciprocity. No. Am., 183 : 611.

75. Meade. The Coal Supremacy of the United States. Forum,

30 ; 220.

76. Hamlin. A Plea for Architectural Studies. Forum, 31 : 626.

77. Ayers. Color Blindness in Art. Cent., 73 : 876.

78. Van Dyke. The Americanism of Washington. Harper,

113:770.

79. Wyckoff. Some Phases of Trade Unionism. Scribner, 34 : 495.

Rhetorical Analysis.

1. Let each student read one of the stories, essays, or
speeches referred to in the list below. The essays and
speeches will be the best to begin the work with.

2. As he reads he should write in his note-book, (1) the
theme of each paragraph ; (2) thie function of each para-
graph, whether transitional, directive, amplifying, illustra-
tive, etc. ; (3) he should note what bearing each paragraph
has upon the subject of the whole selection and how it car-
ries forward the plan as a whole; (4) he should make from
his notes a connected synopsis of the selection.

3. At a subsequent meeting of the class, the members
report, the selections are reproduced orally from the synop-
sis, and any paragraph whose function could not be deter-

RBETORICAL ANALYSIS. 383

mined is read in full and criticised or explained by the
class.

4. In the case of the longer selections, report the main
points and make a synopsis of the whole seleption ; but de-
termine the rhetorical functions of only a reasonable num-
ber of the paragraphs. The work may be done piecemeal,
the student reporting a part of his analysis from week to
week. Copy and bring into class for criticism and discus-
sion whole paragraphs about which there is doubt when
read.

5. For the first exercise let all the class analyze the same
speech or essay.

1. Stories.

1. Aldrich. Marjorie Daw. Atlan., 31 : 407.

2. Hawthorne. The Gentle Boy.

3. Higginson. A Charge with Prince Rupert. Atlan., 3 :725.

4. Hale. The Man Without a Country. Atlan., 12 : 605.

5. Jewett. The Shore House. Atlan., 32 : 3.58.

6. Eggleston. Gunpowder Plot. Scribner, 2 : 252.

7. Davis. Life in the Iron Mills. Atlan., 7 : 430.

8. Hale. My Double and How He Undid Me. Atlan., 4 : 356.

9. Higginson. The Puritan Minister. Atlan., Essays, 191.

10. Howells. A Pedestrian Tour. Atlan., 24 : 591.

11. Higginson. A Night in the Water. Atlan., 14 : 393.

12. Burroughs. . Tragedies of the Nests. Century, 4 : 680.

13. Burroughs. Signs and Seasons. Century, 3 : 672.

14. Bishop. Braxton's New Art. Century, 6 : 871.

15. Bunner. The Red Silk Handkerchief. Century, 6 : 275.

16. Stockton. Wreck of the Thomas Hyke. Century, 6 : 587.

17. Janvier. Orpiment and Gamboge. Century, 7 : 397.

18. Foote. A Cloud on the Mountain. Century, 9 : 28.

19. Jackson. The Mystery of William Rutter. Century, 9 : 103.

20. Boyesen. A Child of the Age. Century, 9: 177.

21. Clemens. The Private History of a Campaign that Failed.

Century, 9:193.

22. Matthews. Perturbed Spirits. Century, 10 : 74.

23. Page. A Soldier of the Empire. Century, 10 : 918.

384 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

24. Harte. Left out on Lone Star Mountain. Longm., 3 : 259.

25. Dodge. Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. Atlan.,

5:272,417.

26. Thanet. Day of the Cyclone. Scribner (N. S.), 3: 350.

27. Haggard. Mai wa's Revenge. Harper, 77: 181.

28. Harte. An Apostle of the Tules. Longm., 1885 : 67.

29. Wilson. Tale of Expiation. Recreations of Christopher

North, p. 33.

30. Aldrich. A Midnight Fantasy. Atlan., 35 : 385.

31. Phelps. In the Gray Goth. Atlan., 6 : 587.

32. Jewett. Deephaven Cronies. Atlan., 36 : 316.

33. James. The Last of the Valerii. Atlan., 33 : 169.

34. Taylor. Who was She ? Atlan., 34 : 257.

35. Stockton. Our Story. Century, 4 : 762.

36. Aldrich. A Struggle for Life. Atlan., 20 : 56.

37. A Story of Assisted Fate. Atlan., 55 : 58.

38. Taylor. A W^eek on Capri. Atlan., 21 : 740.

39. HoweUs. A Shaker Village. Atlan., 37 : 699.

40. Lowell. A Pocket Celebration of the Fourth. Atlan.,

2 : 374.

41. Hawthorne. Ethan Brand. (In the Snow Image, etc.)

42. Cable. Don Joaquin. Harper, 52 : 281.

43. McCarthy. Wanted — A SouL Harper, 22 : 549.

44. Woolson. Miss Vedder. Harper, 58 : 590.

45. Davis. A Story oi the Plague. Harper, 58 : 443.

46. Stockton. The Transferred Ghost. Century, 2 : 43.

47. McDonald. The Portent. Cornh., 1 : 617, 670 ; 2 :74.

48. Gray. The Silver Casket. Murray's Mag., 2 : 203.

49. Hardy. The Waiting Supper. Murray's Mag., 3 : 42, 199.

50. Appleton. A Half-Life and Half a Life. Atlantic Stories.

51. Whelpley. The Denslow Palace. Atlantic Stories.

52. Cooke. Miss Lucinda. Atlantic Stories.

53. Hale. The Queen of the Red Chessmen. Atlantic Stories.

54. Nordhoff. Elkanah Brewster's Temptation. Atlantic Stories.

55. Chesbro. Victor and Jacqueline. Atlantic Stories.

56. Arnold. Why Thomas Was Discharged. Atlantic Stories.

57. Lowell. A Raft that No Man Made. Atlantic Stories.

58. O'Brien. The Diamond Lens. Atlantic Stories.

59. Jewett. Marsh Rosemary. Atlan., 57 : 590.

RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. 385

60. De Quincey. Joan of Arc.

61. Thackeray. The Fatal Boots.

62. Craddock. His Day in Court. Harper, 76 : 56.

63. Matthews. A Secret of the Sea. Harper, 71 ; 78.

64. Bishop. Choy Susan. Atlan., 64 : 1.

65. Hawthorne. Ken's Mystery. Harper, 67 : 925.

66. Jewett. King of Folly Island. Harper, 74 : 10.

67. Frederic. Brother Angelus. Harper, 73 : 517.

68. Craddock. Lonesome Cove. Harper, 72 : 128.

69. Reade. Tit for Tat. Harper, 66 : 251.

70. Boyesen. A Dangerous Virtue. Scribner, 21 : 745.

71. Boyesen. The Man who Lost his Name. Scribner, 12 : 808.

72. Clemens. A Curious Experience. Century, 1 : 35.

73. Phelps. The Tenth of January. Atlan., 21 ": 345.

74. Bishop. The Brown-Stone Boy. Atlan., 55 : 330.

75. Taylor. Friend Eli's Daughter. Atlan., 10: 99.

76. Thackeray. Bluebeard's Ghost.

77. James. The Romance of Certain Old Clothes.

78. Aldrich. A Riverraouth Romance. Atlan., 30 ; 157.

79. Dickens. Wreck of the Golden Mary.

80. Dickens. George Silverman's Explanation.

81. Mitchell. A Comedy of Conscience. Century, 61 : 323.

82. Phelps. F^e. Century, 61: 671.

83. Page. Bred in the Bone. Century, 64 : 331.

84. Norris. A Lost Story. Century, 66 : 371.

85. Deland. The White Feather. Century, 68 : 440.

86. London. The Gold Canon. Century, 71 : 117.

87. Rice. The Wild Oats of a Spinster. Century, 72 : 323.

88. Briscoe. His Prerogative. Harper, 107 : 197.

89. Deland. Amelia. Harper, 107 : 384.

90. Freeman. The Butterfly. Harper, 107 : 441.

91. Deland. The Note. Harper, 107 : 497.

92. Deland. An Exceeding High Mountain. Harper, 107 : 893.

93. Twain. A Dog's Tale. Harper, 108 : 11.

94. Freeman. The Revolt of Sophia Lane. Harper, 108 : 20.

95. Benedict. A Portrait by CoUyer. Harper, 114 : 792.

96. Howells. The Eidolons of Brooks Alford. Harper, 113 : 387.

97. Conrad. An Anarchist. Harper, 113 : 406.

98. Phelps. Unemployed. Harper, 113 ; 904.

386 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

99. Pyle. A Life for a Life. Scribner, 27 : 6L

100. Van Dyke. The Light that Failed not. Scribner, 27 : 405.

101. James. The Tone of Time. Scribner, 28 : 624.

102. Davis. A Derelict Scribner, 30 : 181.

103. Smith. The Turquoise Cup. Scribner, 30 : 671.

104. Davis. The Bar Sinister. Scribner, 30 : 307.

105. Kipling. Wireless. Scribner, 32 : 129.

106. Barnes. The String of Pearls. Scribner, 32 : 305.

107. Williams. The Burglar and the Lady. Scribner, 34 : 173.

108. Wharton. The Descent of Man. Scribner, 35 : 315.

109. Tompkins. The Boy Joke. Scribner, 41 : 107.

110. Smith. What Really Happened. Scribner, 40 : 156.

111. Page. A Brother to Diogenes. Scribner, 39 : 290.

112. Thackeray. Rebecca and Rowena. In Christmas Books.

113. Bishop. One of the Thirty Pieces. Atlan., 37 : 43.

114. Hale. The Modern Psyche. Harper, 51 : 885.

115. Stevenson. The Merry Men.

116. Lamb. Adventures of Ulysses.

117. Pyle. Stephen Wycherley. Harper, 75 : 56.

118. Woolson. A Flower of the Snow. Galaxy, 17 : 76.

2. Essays, Speeches, Sketches.

1. Representative British Orations. 3 vols.

2. Representative American Orations. 3 vols.

3. Huntington. A Plea for Railway Consolidation. No. Am.,

153 : 272.

4. Livermore. Cooperative Womanhood in the State. No.

Am., 153 : 283.

5. Douglass. Hayti and the United States. No. Am., 153 : 337.

6. Bryce. Thoughts on the Negro Problem. No. Am., 153 :

641.

7. Luce. Benefits of War. No. Am., 153 : 672.

8. Powderly. The Workingman and Free Silver. No. Am.,

153:728.

9. Hubert. The New Talking Machines. Atlan., 63 : 256.

10. Parkman. The Acadian Tragedy. Harper, 69 : 877.

11. Starbuck. Hawthorne. Andover Review, 7 : 31.

12. Phelps. Shylock i;^. Antonio. Atlan., 57 : 463.

RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. 387

13. Long. Of Style. An Old Man's Thoughts.

14. Locksley Hall and Sixty Years After. Poet Lore, Jan. 1893.

15. Davis. Shakespeare's Miranda and Tennyson's Elaine. Poet

Lore, Jan. 1893.

16. Stoddard. The English Laureates. Cosmop. Jan. 1893.

17. Billson. The English Novel. Westminster Rev. Jan. 1893.

18. Rogers. G. W. Curtis and Civil Service Reform. Atlan.

Jan. 1893.

19. Johnson. The Transformation of Energy. Westmin. Rev.

Dec. 1892.

20. White. Homes of the Poor. Chautauquan, Jan., 1893.

21. Bartlett. The Prison Question. Am. Jour. Politics, Jan.

1893.

22. Higginson. Boston. St. Nicholas, Jan. 1893.

23. Acworth. Railway Mismanagement. 19th Cent. Dec. 1892.

24. Brooke. Tennyson. Contemp. Rev. Dec. 1893.

25. Mace. Universal Suffrage in France. No. Am. Jan. 1893.

26. Dodge. A Bible Lesson for Herbert Spencer. No. Am.

Jan. 1893.

27. Williams. The Kindergarten Movement. Century, Jan.

1893.

28. Flower. Are We a Prosperous People? Arena, Jan. 1893.

29. Hadley. Jay Gould and Socialism. Forum, Jan. 1893.

30. Campbell. Women Wage Earners. Arena, Jan. 1893.

31. Hadley. Ethics as a Political Science. Yale Rev. Nov.

1892.

32. Gosse. Tennyson. New Rev. Nov. 1892.

33. Kingsley. English Literature. Lit. and Gen. Essays, 245.

34. Repplier. Benefits of Superstition. Books and Men, 33.

35. Dawkins. Settlement of Wales. Fort. Rev. Oct. 1892.

36. Edmunds. Politics as a Career. Forum, Dec. 1892.

37. Scudder. The Place of College Settlements. Andover Rev.

Oct. 1892.

38. Adams. Municipal Government. Forum, Nov. 1892.

39. Andrews. Are there too Many of Us. No. Am. Nov. 1892.

40. Mathews. Two Studies of the South. Cosmop. Nov. 1892.

41. Cable. Education for the South. Cosmop. Nov. 1892.

42. AValsh. The Ethics of Great Strikes. No. Am. Oct. 1892.

43. Gunsaulus. The Ideal of Culture. Chautauquan, Oct. 1892.

888 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

44. Stoddard. James Russell Lowell. Lippincott, Oct. 1892.

45. Garner. Monkey's Academy in Africa. New Rev. Sept

1892.

46. Lowell. Old English Dramatists. Harper, June-Sept. 1892.

47. Patmore. Three Essayettes. Fort. Rev. July 1892.

48. Adams. Some Recent Novels. Fort. Rev. July 1892.

49. Johnson. The First University. Westmin. Rev. Sept. 1892.
.50. Flower. The Menace of Plutocracy. Arena, Sept. 1892.

51. Habberton. Social Science in Business Life. Chautauquan,

Sept. 1892.

52. Besant. Literature as a Career. Forum, Aug. 1892.

53. Farrar. Shaftesbury's Work among the London Poor.

Meth. Mag. Aug. 1892.

54. Woodbury. Shelley's Work. Century, Aug. 1892.

55. Repplier. Wit and Humor. Atlan. Dec. 1892.

56. Fowler. Whittier and Tennyson. Arena, Dec. 1892.

57. Gladden. The Problem of Poverty. Century, Dec. 1892.

58. Smith. Arnold of Rugby. Educ. Rev. Dec. 1892.

59. Nevinson. Goethe as a Minister of State. Con temp. Rev.

Nov. 1892.

60. Gladstone. Did Dante Study in Oxford ? Nineteenth Cent.

June 1892.

61. Schwatka. Land of the Living Cliff Dwellers. Century,

June 1892.

62. Bellamy. Progi*ess of Nationalism in the United States. No.

Am. June 1892.

63. Bigelow. Bismarck. Contemp. Rev. May 1892.

64. Parke. How General Gordon was Really Lost. Nineteenth

Cent. May 1892.

65. Eddy. My Business Partner — the Government. Forum,

May 1892.

66. Tyndall. Coast Protection. New Rev. April 1892.

67. Mooney. Catholic Controversy about Education. Educ.

Rev. March 1893.

68. Hanus. The Influence of Comenius. Educ. Rev. March 1892.

69. Gladden. The Plain Path of Reform. Charities Review,

April 1892.

70. Delboef. Criminal Suggestion by Hypnotism. Monist, April

1892.

RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. 889

71. Bradley. Patrick Henry. Macmillan's Mag. March 1892.

72. Scudainore. Egypt and the late Khedive. Blackwood's,

Feb. 1892.

73. Gilder. Paderewski. Century, March 1892.

74. Hubbard. The Tax on Barbarism. N. E. and Yale Rev.

March 1892.

75. Buel. The Louisiana Lottery. Century, Feb. 1892.

76. White. Suppression of Lotteries. Forum, Feb. 1892.

77. The Short Story. Atlau. Feb. 1892.

78. Edmunds. Perils of our National Elections. Forum, Feb.

1892.

79. Tolman. Studies in Macbeth. Atlan. Feb. 1892.

80. Dodge. Progress in Agriculture. Amer. Agric. Jan. 1892.

81. Gale. The Marble Faun Interpreted. N. E. and Yale Rev.

Jan. 1892.

82. Boyesen. W. D. Howells and his Work. Cosmop. Feb.

1892.

83. Arnold. Love and Marriage in Japan. Cosmop. Feb. 1892.

84. Atkinson and Cabot. Personal Liberty. Pop. Science Mo.

Feb. 1892.

85. Adams. Rise and Fall of Fonseca. Cosmop. Feb. 1892.

86. Goodwin. English and American Schoolboys. School and

College, Feb. 1892.

87. Macgregor. Socialism. Bib. Sac. Jan. 1892.

88. Walker. How a Bill presented in Congress becomes a Law.

Chautauquan, Feb. 1892.

89. Davies. Compulsory Education. Westminster Rev. Feb.

1892.

90. Earle. The Study of English. Forum, March 1892.

91. Cox. Men of '61. Why they fought. Atlan. March 1892.

92. Lathrop. John Boyle O'Reilly. Century, Dec. 1891.

93. Lowell. Shakespeare's Richard III. Atlan. Dec. 1891.

94. Sears. Football — Sports and Training. No. Am. Rev. Dec.

1891.

95. James. James Russell Lowell. Atlan. Jan. 1892. •

96. Powell. A World-wide Republic. Arena, Jan. 1892.

97. Stedman. Juliet's Runaway. Poet Lore, Jan. 1892.

98. Mills. General Booth's Experiment. Unitar. Rev. Dec.

1891.

390 SPECIAL EXERCISES IN

99. Walton. A Brief for Ophelia. Poet Lore, Nov. 1891.

100. Handy. Negro Superstitions. Lippincott, Dec. 1891.

101. Freeman. Dangers to the Peace of Europe. For am, Nov.

1891.

102. Benton. Lowell's Americanism. Century, Nov. 1891.

103. Potter. The Profit of Good Country Roads. Forum, Nov.

1891.

104. Atkinson. Free Coinage of Silver. Forum, Oct. 1891.

105. Farrar. An English Estimate of Lowell. Forum, Oct.

1891.

106. Gosse. Rudyard Kipling. Century, Oct. 1891.

107. Repplier. The Oppression of Notes. Atlau. Aug. 1891.

108. Clark. Public Life. Forum, July 1891.

109. McCracken. Six Centuries of Self -Government. Atlan.

Aug. 1891.

110. Walker. Immigration and Degradation. Forum, Aug. 1891.

111. Thatcher. The Failure of the Jury System. No. Am. Rev.

Aug. 1891.

112. Dilke. Trades Unions for Women. No. Am. Rev. Aug.

1891.

113. Hurlbut. Reciprocity and Canada. No. Am. Rev. Oct.

1891.

114. Shaler. Nature of the Negro. Arena, Dec. 1891.

115. Mathews. The Whole Duty of Critics. New Rev. Nov. 1890.

116. Martin. The Chinese as They see Us. Forum, Feb. 1891.

117. Gosse. Influence of Democracy on Literature. Con temp.

Rev. Apr. 1891.

118. Osgood. Political Ideas of the Puritans. Pol. Science Quart.

March 1891.

119. Rainsford. What can We Do for the Poor? Forum, Apr.

1891.

120. McCracken. Arnold Winkelreid. Atlan. Apr. 1891.

121. Rice. The Example of a Great Life. No. Am. Rev. Apr.

1891.

122. Morris. New Africa. Lippincott, Apr. 1891.

123. Nelson. Town and Village Government. Harper, June

1891.

124. Richardson. The College Settlement. Lippincott, June

1891.

RHETORIC AL ANALYSIS. 891

125. Walker. Colored Race in the United States. Forum, July

1891.

126. Buckley. Christianity and Socialism. Harper, July 1891.

« 127. Dewey. Poetry and Philosophy. Andover Rev. Aug, 1891.

128. Caylor. Theory and Introduction of Curve Pitching. Out-

ing, Aug. 1891.

129. Blum. The Russia of To-day. Arena, May 1891.

130. Rouss. Cash vs. Credit. Belford's Mag. March 1891.

131. Spreckels. The Future of the Sandwich Islands. No. Am.

Rev. March 1891.

132. Salter. The Problem of the Unemployed. New Eng. Mag.

March 1891.

133. Stark. Silver Coinage. Arena, Jan. 1891.

134. Shearman. The Coming Billionaire. Forum, Jan. 1891.

135. Shaler. Individualism in Education. Atlan. Jan. 1891.

136. Allen. The Case of Roger Williams. Unitar. Rev. Jan.

1891.

137. McCracken. Legend of William Tell. Atlan. Nov. 1890.

138. Gladden. The Embattled Farmers. Forum, Nov. 1890.

139. Kitson. The Logic of Free Trade and Protection. Pop.

Science Mo. Nov. 1890.

140. Tilly. The Shibboleth of Public Opinion. Forum, Nov.

1890.

141. Stoddard. Thomas Buchanan Read. Lippincott, Feb. 1891.

142. Bridges. Coeducation in Swiss Universities. Pop. Science

Mo. Feb. 1891.

143. Roosevelt. An Object Lesson in Civil Service Reform. Atlan.

Feb. 1891.

144. Miles. Progress in Agricultural Science. Pop. Science Mo.

Feb. 1891.

145. Hyatt. Public Parks. Atlan. Feb. 1891.

146. Woods. University Extension in England. Andover Rev.

March 1891.

147. Coxe. Do we Hate England? Forum, March 1891.

148. Danziger. Labor Unions and Strikes in Ancient Rome.

Cosmop. March 1891.

149. Graham. Supposed Tendencies to Socialism. Pop. Science

Mo. March 1891.

150. Child. The Argentine Capital. Harper, March 1891.

392 EXERCISES IN RHETORICAL ANALYSIS.

151. Roosevelt. Fellow-feeling as a Political Factor. Century,

59:466.

152. Macy. Tolstoi's Moral Theory of Art. Century, 60 : 298.

153. Strong. In Samoa with Stevenson. Century, 63 :657.

154. Burroughs. Literary Values. Century, 63 : 853.

155. Gosse. Mr. Swinburne. Century, 64 : 101.

156. Gilder. A Romance of the Nineteenth Century. Century,

70:918.

157. Gosse. The Patron in the Eighteenth Century. Harper,

107 : 3.

158. Bacon. Industrial Education in the South. Harper, 107:

659.

159. Woodberry. The South in American Letters. Harper, 107 :

735.

160. Matthews. An Apology for Technic. No. Am. 180 : 868.

161. Bonsai. A Latin-American Type. No. Am. 176 : 747.

162. Mabie. The Work of Mrs. Humphry Ward. No. Am. 176 :

481.

163. Beers. The English Drama of To-day. No. Am. 180 : 746.

164. James. Boston. No. Am. 182 : 333.

165. Lee. Tolstoy as a Prophet. No. Am. 182 : 524.

166. Stedman: Poe, Cooper, and the Hall of Fame. No. Am.

135:801.

167. Reinsch. Governing the Orient on Western Principles. Fo-

rum, 31 : 387.

168. Reid. Li Hung Chang. A Character Sketch. Forum, 32 :

723.

169. Windmiller. Protection against Fires and Faulty Construc-

tion. Forum, 36 : 273.

170. Rice. An Eifort to Suppress Noise. Forum, 37 : 352.

171. Ellis. The Home of the Holy Grail. Harper, 114 : 747.

172. Martin. The Habits of the Sea. Harper, 113 : 205.

173. Brownell. John Ruskin. Scribner, 27 : 502.

174. Harper. Balzac. Scribner, 27 : 617.

175. Howell s. A Personal Retrospect of James Russell Lowell.

Scribner, 28 : 363.

176. Brownell. George Eliot. Scribner, 28 : 711.

177. Matthews. The English Language in America. Scribner,

30:105.

SUPPLEMENTARY READING. 898

178. Brownell. Matthew Aniold. Scribner, 30 : 105.

179. Matthews. The Literaiy Merit of our Latter-day Drama.

Scribner, 34 : 607.

180. Mott. Three Days on the Volga. Scribner, 37 : 297.

Supplementary Reading.

The following books and articles are suggested for reading
in connection with the study of the text : —

z. Theory of Rhetoric and Composition,
a. General.

Lewes. Principles of Success in Literature.

Palmer. Self- Cultivation in English,

Wendell. English Composition.

Higginson. Hints on Writing and Speech-making,

Bates. 7'alks on Writing English, (1st and 2d Series.)

Minto. Plain Principles of Prose Composition.

Masson. Genius and Discipline. Macmillan's Magazine, 7 : 81.

Wilson. On an Author's Choice of Company. Century, 51 : 775.

Bain ton. Art of Authorship,

Bain. Original Composition, In Practical Essays, p. 253.

Bain. James Mill, A Biography,

Hill. Our English.

Spencer. Philosophy of Style.

Stevenson. On Style. Contemporary Magazine, 47 : 458.

Stevenson. A College Magazine,

Pater. Style. In Appreciations,

De Quincey. Essay on Style.

Harrison. On Style in English Prose, 19th Century, June, 1898.

b. Description.

Alexander and Libby. Composition from Models^ pp. 119-294.
Bain. English Composition and Rhetoric (2- vol. edition), Vol. 1,

pp. 263-310.
Baldwin. Specimens of Prose Description,
Baldwin. College Manual of Rhetoric, Chap. 6.

894 SUPPLEMENTARY READING.

Bates. Talks on Writing English, Chaps. 14, 15.

Cairns. The Forms of Discourse, pp. 113-169.

Day. Art of Discourse, pp. 78-82.

Fletcher and Carpenter. Theme- Writing, pp. 33-63.

Gardiner. The Forms of Prose Literature, pp. 154-170.

Genuug. Handbook of Rhetorical Analysis, pp. 36-47, 56-63, 156-

184.
Genung. Outlines of Rhetoric, pp. 250-256.
Genung. The Working Prificiples of Rhetoric, ^p, i77S10.
Hale. Constructive Rhetoric, pp. 35-67.
Hart. Handbook of English Composition, Pt. 1, Chap. 6.
Hill, A. S. Principles of Rhetoric (revised edition), pp. 249-280.
Hill, D. J. Science of Rhetoric, pp. 75-85.
Lewis. First Book in Writing English, pp. 275-278.
McElroy. Structure of English Prose, pp. 299-306.
Mead. Elementary Composition and Rhetoric, pp. 143-156.
Minto. Manual of English Prose Literature, pp. 26, 72, 115, 169.
Newcomer. English Composition, pp. 47-108.
Tompkins. Science of Discourse (revised edition), pp. 61-92.

Some entertaining passages on learning to write description
will be found in Robert Louis Stevenson's A College Magazine, in
Memories and Portraits.

For discussions of certain problems of description, the student
may be referred to Lessing's Laokotki, to E. L. Walter's paper
entitled Lessing on the Boundaries of Poetry and Painting, and to
Royce's article Some Recent Studies on Ideas of Motion, in Science
for November 30, 1883.

c. Narration.

Alexander and Libby. Composition from Models, pp. 15-118.
Bain. English Composition and Rhetoric (2-vol. edition), pp. 46-47,

50-51.
Baldwin. College Manual of Rhetoric, Chap. 5.
Bates. Talks on Writing English, pp. 210-257.
Brewster. Studies in Structure and Style, pp. 1-48.
Brewster. Specimens of Narration (In troduction) •
Cairns. The Forms of Discourse, pp. 58-112.
Day. Art of Discourse, pp. 70-77.

SUPPLEMENTARY BEADING. 895

Fletcher and Carpenter. Theme- Writing, ^^. 6i-SQ.

Gardiner. The Forms of Prose Literature, pp. 120-153.

GenuDg. Handbook of Rhetorical Analyait, pp. 187-224.

Grenung. Outlines of Rhetoric, pp. 257-262.

Genung. The Working Principles of Rhetoric, pp. 511-553.

Hale. Constructive Rhetoric, pp. 17-34.

Hart. Handbook of English Composition, Pt. 1, Chap. 5.

Hill, A. S. Principles of Rhetoric (revised edition), pp. 281-299.

Hill, D. J. Science of Rhetoric, pp. 86-94.

McEkoy. Structure of English Prose, pp. 296-299.

Matthews. The Philosophy of the Short Story. (In Pen and Ink,)

Mead; Elementary Composition and Rhetoric, pp. 156-162.

Minto. Manual of English Prose, pp. 27, 74, 118, 173.

Newcomer. English Composition, pp. 15-46.

Tompkins. Science of Discourse, pp. 79-106.

The following references bear more especially on the
technique of narrative : —

Aristotle. Poetics. (Wharton's or Butcher's translatioiu)

Barrett. Short Story Writing.

Besant. Art of Fiction.

George Eliot. Stoj-y Telling. (In Leaves from a Note-Book.)

Freytag. Technique of the Drama, Chaps. 1-5.

Hennequin. The Art of Play-writing, pp. 33-143.

James. Art of Fiction. Longman's Magazine, 4:502.

Perry. A Study of Prose Fiction.

Stevenson. A Gossip on Romance, and A Humble Remonstrance.

(In Memories and Portraits.)
Woodbridge. The Drama : Its Law and its Technique.

d. Exposition.

Alexander and Libby. Composition from Models, Part III, pp. 295-

458.
Bain. English Composition and Rhetoric (l*vol. edition), pp. 185-

211.
Baldwin. College Manual of Rhetoric, Chap. 2.
Bates. Talks on Writing English, pp. 128-151.
Cairns. The Forms of Discourse, pp. 170-226.

396 SUPPLEMENTARY READING.

Fletcher and Carpenter. Theme- Writing, pp. 92-109.
Gardiner. The Forms of Prose Literature, pp. 25-60.
Genung. Handbook of Rhetorical Analysis, pp. 8-16, 18-23, 67-80,

141-146, 224-254.
Grenung. Outlines of Rhetoric, pp. 263-267.
Grenung. The Working Principles of Rhetoric, pp. 554-596.
Hale. Constructive Rhetoric, pp. 68-98.
Hart. Handbook of English Composition, pp. 82-192.
Hill, A. S. Principles of Rhetoric (revised edition), pp. 320-326.
Hill, D. J. Science of Rhetoric, pp. 95-106.
Lamont. Specimens of Exposition,

Lewis. Specimens of the Forms of Discourse, pp. 127-232.
McElroy. Structure of English Prose, pp. 306-309.
Mead. Practical Composition and Rhetoric, pp. 214-227.
Minto. Manual of English Prose, p. 28.
Newcomer. Elements of Rhetoric, pp. 11, 12.
Newcomer. English Composition, pp. 119-136.
Tompkins. Science of Discourse, pp. 107-145.

e. Argumentation.

Bain. English Composition and Rhetoric (1-vol. edition), pp. 205-

208, 210, 211, 228-243.
Baker. Principles of Argumentation,
Baker. Specimens of A rgumentation.
Baldwin. College Manual of Rhetoric, Chap. 3.
Bates. Talks on Writing English, pp. 152-180.
Bradley. Orations and Arguments,
Brooking and Ringwalt. Briefs for Debate.
Cairns. The Forms of Discourse, pp. 227-292.
Fletcher and Carpenter. Theme-Writing, pp. 110-133.
Gardiner. The Forms of Prose Literature, pp. 61-87.
Genung. Outlines of Rhetoric, pp. 268-276.
Genung. The Working Principles of Rhetoric, pp. 597-662.
Hale. Constructive Rhetoric, pp. 321-342.
Hart. Handbook of English Composition, §§ 62-75.
Hill, A. S. Principles of Rhetoric (revised edition), pp. 327-400.
Hill, D. J. Science of Rhetoric, pp. 107-139.
Lewis. Specimens of the Forms of Discourse, pp. 233-334.

SUPPLEMENTARY BEADING. 897

McElroy. Structure of English Prose, 309-327.
Mead. Practical Composition and Rhetoric, pp. 227-246.
Newcomer. Elements of Rhetoric, pp. 83-86.
Newcomer. English Composition, pp. 137-169.
Tompkins. Science of Rhetoric, pp. 146-207.

On the logical basis of argumentation, the most helpful books
are perhaps Alfred Sidgwick's Process of Argument, and Alfred
Binet's Psychology of Reasoning,

2. General Reference List.

The student should learn bow to consult and use the
following in investigating a subject: —

a. Kroeger's Guide to the Study and Use of Reference Books,
This is an exhaustive list of the most important books of refer-
ence, arranged under suitable heads and carefully discriminated
and described. It is published by the American Library Associa-
tion, Boston.

h. Card Catalogues. Almost every library is now provided with
a card catalogue of subjects, titles, and authors, arranged in alpha-
betical order, in one list.

c. Poole's Index of Magazine Literature. This consists of refer-
ences to magazine articles on all subjects, arranged alphabetically.
It is supplemented by yearly issues, called the Annual Library In-
dex, and a new volume is published at intervals of five years. The
Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature (begun in 1901) is of the
same general character, but appears monthly.

d. A.L. A. Index to General Literature. Similar to Poole's In-
dex, except that the references are to essays and chapters in books.
Continued since 1900 in the Annual Library Index.

e. Encyclopaedias, notably the Britannica, usually give at the
close of each important article a list of authorities that may be
consulted in further investigation of the subject. Other ency-
clopaedias worthy to be mentioned, are Chambers^ The New In-
ternational (supplemented by a Year Book), The Encyclopaedia
Americana, and Nelson's (a loose-leaf cyclopaedia revised at fre-
quent intervals). Appleton's Annual Cyclopcedia (not published

398 SUPPLEMENTARY READING.

since 1902) is valuable for recent history and accounts of progress
io science.

/. Of biographical dictionaries, the following are the most im-
portant : Lippincott's Biographical Dictionary ; Century Cyclopaedia
of Names (contains also geographical and other names) ; Diction-
ary of National Biography (British notables only) ; Who*8 Who
(British); Who*s Who in America; Appleton's Cyclopaedia of
American Biography; National Cyclopaedia of American Biography,

g. Dictionaries of English and American Literature : AUibone's
Dictionary of English Literature and British and American Authors ;
W. D. Adams's Dictionary of English Literature ; Duyckinck's Cy-
clopa»dia of American Literature, To these may be added two use-
ful compilations : Ryland*s Chronological Outlines of English Litera-
ture, and Whitcomb's Chronological Outlines of American Literature,

h. C. K. Adams's Manual of Historical Literature is especially
valuable in estimating the weight of a historian's statements.
More special in character is Channing and Hart's Guide to the
Study of American History. For the facts of American history,
Harper's Encyclopcedia of United States History or Jameson's Dic-
tionary of United States History may be consulted.

t. On economic and social questions the following are useful :
Lalor's Cyclopaedia of Political Science, Political Economy, and of
the Political History of the United States ; Bowker and Iles's Readers'
Guide in Economic, Social, and Political Science ; Bliss and Blinder's
New Encyclopcedia of Social Reform ; Palgrave's Dictionary of Po-
litical Economy,

J. Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, Sturgis's Dictiofi-
ary of Architecture, and Bryan's Dictionary of Painters are author-
ities in their respective fields.

k. Statistics, current facts, etc. The Statistical Abstract of the
United States, published by the U. S. Bureau of Statistics, and the
Abstract of the last Census, published by the Bureau of the Census,
are among the most useful of government documents. For gen-
eral reference the following are especially valuable : llie Tribune
Almanac ; The World A Imanac ; Whitaker*s A Imanack ; The Annual
Register; Statesman's Year Book.

I, Notes and Queries, a British periodical, is a mine of informa-
tion upon every subject, but especially upon odd, out-of-the-way

SUPPLEMENTARY READING. 399

subjects. It is invaluable for tracing the source of quotations,
proverbs, usages, customs, historical allusions, and the like. A
special index is published for each series.

m. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations is a standard work in its field.

n. Brewer's Reader^s Handbook and his Dictionary of Phrase and
Fable are helpful in tracing literary allusions.

o. Baker's Descriptive Guide to the Best Fiction contains classified
lists of novels with descriptions and criticisms. A briefer list will
be found in the H, W, Wilson Fiction Catalog,

p. The following books are of special value in preparation for
debates : Brooking and Ringwalt's Briefs for Debate ; Ringwalt's
Briefs on Public Questions; Matson's References for Literary Workers,

q. Among the most useful guides to engineering literature are
the following : The Engineering Index Annual, collected every five
years into a volume entitled The Engineering Index; Galloupe's
Index to Engineering Periodicals ; (1883-1892) ; International Cata-
logue of Scientific Literature; American Society of Mechanical En-
gineers, General Index of Transactions ; Technical Press Index,

, .-> . ji

APPENDIX C.

A CLASSIFIED LIST OF £SSAT SUBJECTS.

English Language and Literature.

1. Dickens as a reformer.

2. What part of his course should a student devote to English ?

3. Arguments for spelling reform.

4. Compare Tennyson's two poems on Locksley Hall.

5. A history of the office of Poet Laureate.

6. Should the office of Poet Laureate be abolished?

7. The problems in The Marble Faun,

8. The late Cardinal Newman as a literary man.

9. Lowell's essay on Democracy.

10. What is the problem discussed in Elsie Vennerf

11. Dr. Johnson's strength and weakness as a prose writer.

12. What are the peculiar characteristics of Bryant's poetry ?

13. Justify Whittier's title " The Poet of Freedom."

14. Dr. Holmes's Story of Iris — its meaning.

15. Richard IIL in Shakespeare and in history.

16. Shylock vs. Antonio — a plea for Shylock.

17. Shelley's place in English Poetry.

18. Goldsmith's Parson (Deserted Village) compared with Chau-

cer's.

19. Problems in Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables,

20. The Book of Job treated as a tragedy.

21. Emerson's Essay on Manners — is the theory adequate?

22. Were Matthew Arnold's criticisms on America just?

23. Is Taine's estimate of the influence of the Puritans on litera-

ture correct ?

24. Literary characteristics of Dr. Watts's Hymns,

25. Compare Emerson's idea of Napoleon with Taine's.

26. The effect of Methodism on eighteenth century literature.

27. Account for the present neglect of Paradise Lost by readers.

400

ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 401

28. Dr. Johnson's estimate of Dryden.

29. Influence of Lowell's Biglow Papers,

30. A study of words ending in -able or -ihle,

31. Compare Shakespeare's Caesar with the Csesar of history.

32. What is the meaning of Coleridge's Ancient Mariner f

33. A comparison of Tennyson's Ulysses and Guinevere.

34. A comparison of Tennyson's Ulysses and Northern Farmer.

35. Is the English language likely to become universal ?

36. The Bacon-Shakespeare controversy.

37. Richelieu in Bulwer and in history.

38. Fashions in literature.

39. The Bible in Tennyson.

40. Pathos in Dickens.

41. Tennyson's earlier and later poetry compared.

42. Spelling reform.

43. Some overworked worda

44. Rhythm in prose.

45. The use of skng.

46. Cant English expressions.

47. Influence of the so-called religious noveL

48. The Brook Farm experiment.

49. Pronunciation of English words.

50. What classes speak the best English ?

51. A study of the word reliable,

52. Defective rhymes in English verse.

53. Some Americanisms examined.

54. Crime in standard fiction.

55. Henrik Ibsen's influence in America.

56. Voltaire on Shakespeare.

57. The tragedy of Lear.

58. Dickens — the people's novelist.

59. The work of Amelia B. Edwards.

60. TheAlhambra.

61. Famous literary clubs at the English universities.

62. Early forms of the drama in England.

63. The England of Chaucer.

64. Influence of the Puritans on literature.

65. Milton's religious views.

66. Character of Thackeray's Becky Sharp.

402 SUBJECTS FOR ESSAYS.

67. Bryant's and Walt Whitman's Americanism.

68. Irving — a typical literary man.

69. Historical basis of Shakespeare's Macbeth.

70. Scott's reason for ceasing to write poetry.

71. Causes of dramatic decline in the seventeenth century.

72. Influence of patrons on literature.

73. Coffee-house criticisms in the eighteenth century.

74. Theocritus in Tennyson.

75. Seventeenth century satire.

76. Walt Whitman's place in American poetry.

77. American literature in the eighteenth century.

78. Tennyson as a dramatist.

79. Lanier's theory of English verse.

80. The lesson of Browning's Grammarian's Funeral.

81. Carlyle's estimate of Coleridge.

82. Is the highest type of poetry religious?

83. Dramas to be read and dramas to be acted.

84. Distinguishing features of an epic.

85. Distinguishing features of a drama.

86. Distinguishing features of a lyric.

87. Novel and romance compared.

88. Idealism and realism compared.

89. Classicism and romanticism.

90. The three unities.

91. Burke's views on the American and French revolutions con-

trasted.

92. Wordsworth's theory of poetic diction.

93. The true function of criticism.

94. What principles of literary criticism have we ?

95. Was Pope a poet in the true sense ?

96. Is Stedman's definition of poetry adequate?

97. A study of prefaces and their peculiarities.

98. Shakespeare's fools.

99. Buskin's revision of Modern Painters — a study in rhetoric.

100. Should a novel teach something V

101. Does novel reading lead to inaction and will-paralysis?

102. Discuss Poe's arguments for the short story.

103. Poe and Longfellow.

104. How Poe hoaxed the American people.

MODERN LANGUAGES AND LITERATURES. 403

105. Poe's account of the composition of The Raven.

106. Literary horrors.

107. Characteristics of current magazine poetry,

108. An examination of Stedman's ^nW.

109. The story of Chatterton. "

110. Characteristics of Maurice Thompson's poetry.

111. Edith Thomas as a poetess.

112. The dialect poem and its rank.

113. James Whitcomb Riley.

114. Military men as writers.

115. Mark Twain as a representative humorist.

116. Philip Freneau — the poet of the Revolution.

117. Celebrated literary friendships.

118. The quarrels of writers.

119. Beginnings of English fiction.

120. English writers as reformers.

121. Charles Brockden Brown as a novelist.

122. Differences between written and spoken English.

123. Causes of the Italian Renaissance..

124. Influence of the Revival of Learning.

125. Was Hamlet really mad?

126. Has fiction been more of a good than an evil?

127. Cooper's rank as a novelist.

128. Lowell and Holmes compared as humorists.

129. Shakespeare's borrowings.

130. Classic forms in modern literature.

131. Oliver Wendell Holmes — the man as we know him through

his writings.

Modem Languages and Literatures.

1. An outline of Hermann and Dorothea.

2. The legend of William Tell.

3. A sketch of one of Paul Heyse's novels.

4. The Troubadours and Minnesingers.

5. Theories of the Romantic School in France.

6. What has been Voltaire's infiuence?

7. Schiller's Maria Stuart compared with the Mary Stuart of

history.

404 SUBJECTS FOR B88AY8.

8. Influence of the Reformation on German literature.

9. The French Academy.

10. Influence of literature in bringing about the unification of

Germany.

11. Influence of the Revolution on French literature.

12. Influence of German literature upon English literature since

Goethe's time.

13. French theories of realism.

14. The influence of Heinrich Heine.

15. The morality of Molifere's plays.

16. Is Rousseau the father of modern socialism?

17. The meeting of the two queens in Maria Stuart.

18. Goethe's indifference to German liberation — how explained?

19. The growth of the Faust legend.

20. Schiller as a critic.

21. Marlowe's Dr. Faustus and Goethe's Faust compared as

characters.

22. Recent movements in German literature.

23. French and German newspapers.

24. Grerman folk-poetry.

The Classics.

1. The necessity of a classical education.

2. Effect of the elective system upon classical study.

3. The arts of the Athenians. (Vide Plutarch's Pericles.)

4. Plutarch's estimate of Pericles compared with that of Thu-

cydides.

5. Theories as to the authorship of the Homeric poems.

6. Momm sen's characterization of Julius Caesar.

7. Contrast the historians Thucydides and Herodotus.

8. The defence of Socrates before his judges.

9. The value of the Socratic method.

10. Discuss Horace's view of life.

11. Effect of the satirists upon Roman morals.

12. Describe a Roman theatre.

13. Can Cicero be considered a Stoic ?

14. Reasons for the tardy development of Attic oratory.

15. The best method of pronouncing Latin.

HISTORY AND ECONOMICS. 406

16. Value and defects of Ostracism.

17. Describe a Greek theatre.

18. Ideas of the Greeks on education.

19. Rome as a civilizer of her conquerors.

20. Slavery as a Roman institution.

21. The education of a Greek boy.

22. The education of a Roman boy.

23. Influence o^ conquest on Roman literature.

24. The collegia poetarum,

25. Influence of Roman philosophy on our views of life.

26. Influence of Cicero on modern morals.

27. Schliemann's work.

28. Is the story of the Trojan War based on fact?

29. Woman in Greece and in Rome.

30. The moral attitude of Achilles.

31. Greek ideas of a future life.

32. A Roman banquet described.

33. Greek use of the three unities.

34. Compare the Greek and the Roman family.

35. Results of the battle of Marathon.

36. Contribution of Greece to civilization.

37. Greek and Roman influence compared.

38. Influence of the classics on the English language.

39. The Roman element in civilization.

40. Caesar as a statesman.

41. Christianity in the Roman Empire.

42. The first Christian emperor of Rome.

43. What did the Stoics believe ?

44. What did the Epicureans believe ?

45. The ^neid as a religious poem.
.46. Virgil as a poet of nature.

History, Economics, and Politics.

1. Results of the Pan-American Congress.

2. The Federal control of railways.

3. International copyright.

4. Recent political experiments in Japan.

5. Pauperism.

406 SUBJECTS FOR ESSAYS.

6. The Australian ballot system.

7. Waste by fire.

8. Municipal misgovern men t.

9. Reestablishment of guilds.

10. Uses of royalty in England.

11. The anti-poverty movement.

12. Ought Nevada to have been made a state ?

13. Influence of the cabinet on congress.

14. Evils attending our labor-saving machinery.

15. Strikes — how far beneficial?

16. Pardoning power of state governors.

17. The original package decision.

18. Benefits of historical study.

19. Advantages of the World's Fair at Chicago.

20. Defects of the present electoral system in the United States.

21. The policy of the present emperor of Germany.

22. Powers of the speaker of the national House of Representa-

tives.

23. What is reciprocity?

24. The judicial work of John Marshall.

25. How does public opinion rule in the United States ?

26. Should the presidential term be lengthened ?

27. Should secret sessions of the senate be abolished?

28. Hamilton as a financier.

29. The confederation in Australia.

30. Ought the governor of a state to have the veto power?

31. The Know-Nothing party.

32. How far may our government wisely go in restricting immi-

gration ?

33. Early English law courts.

34. Effect of the Crusades on England.

35. Origin of Parliament.

36. Effect of maritime discoveries on England.

37. Is Nationalism practicable? (Read Looking Backward.)

38. Napoleon as an exile.

39. Committee government in Congress.

40. Railway pools.

41. Socialistic tendencies in the United States.

42. Federal supervision of elections.

HISTORY AND ECONOMICS. 407

43. Alaska's race problem.

44. The eight-hour question.

45. Gladstone's treatment of Gordon.

46. Fallacies of Henry George.

47. A southern view of the negro problem.

48. Spread of Mormonism.

49. Tax reform.

50. Prohibition a reducer of crime.

51. Should fortunes be limited by law?
62. Work of the Federal Court of Claims.

53. Probability of the abolition of the House of Lords.

54. Effect of Bismarck's retirement.

55. What did the Salisbury ministry accomplish ?

56. Pensions in the United States.

57. Increase of Federal powers in the United States since 1865.

58. Rise of the House of Commons.

59. The present status of Home Rule.

60. A government postal telegraph.

61. The fisheries dispute.

62. Lynch law and law reform.

63. Municipal elections should be separated from general elections.

64. An American apprentice system.

65. The saloon in politics.

66. The work of John Brown.

67. Our methods of charity.

68. Reform of local taxation.

69. Influence of the independent in politics.

70. Evils of competition.

71. Is prohibition rightfully a national issue ?

72. Should trusts be suppressed ?

73. Reform in prison management.

74. The work of Howard the philanthropist.

75. The work of Wilberforce.

76. Ex-presidents — United States Senators for life?

77. Judges — elected or appointed ?

78. Cooperation tried by experience.

79. Legal-tender decisions.

80. The ethics of boycotting.

81. Power to veto items in appropriation bills.

408 SUBJECTS FOB ESSAYS.

82. Causes of decline in American shipbuilding.

83. Should not church property be taxed ?

84. Relation of railways to business.

85. Blacklisting — can it be defended ?

86. Irrigation in the United States.

87. Reasons for private ownership of land.

88. Origin and brief history of English trades unions.

89. The story of Tammany Hall.

90. Local government in Japan.

91. Problems involved in the annexation of Canada.

92. Recent history-making in the Hawaiian Islands.

93. American political ideas in Japan.

94. The Farmers' Alliance movement.

95. The three great strikes of 1892 — their lesson.

96. The problem of the unemployed.

97. The progress of civil service reform.

98. What does state socialism include ?

99. The Newfoundland fisheries dispute.

100. How woman suffrage has worked in Wyoming.

101. The United States Navy — its present condition.

102. Character of William the Conqueror.

103. Influence and work of Savonarola.

104. Sherman as a financier.

105. Moral aspects of tariff legislation.

106. Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.

107. The story of Bulgaria.

108. Influence of protective duties on wages of labor.

109. The infant industry argument.

110. The " tariff for revenue only " idea.

111. Is free trade possible in America at present?

112. Shall the production of raw materials or of finished products

be encouraged ?

113. Influence of profitrsharing on the sharers.

114. Canals vs. railways.

115. What was the argument of the greenbacker ?

116. Does labor-saving machinery drive men out of work?

117. Labor unions as social centres.

118. The history of the Interstate Commerce Commission.

119. The interstate commerce law.

HISTORY AND ECONOMICS. 409

120. What determines the value of inconvertible paper currency ?

121. Relation of money supply to rate of interest.

122. Is pooling really an evil, and ought it to be forbidden ?

123. Are railway wars an ultimate benefit to the people ?

124. Has there been an excess of railroad building?

125. Is suffrage correctly regarded as a natural right ?

126. Are government or national bank notes preferable ?

127. Should the government loan money to farmers ?

128. Does Henry George state Malthus's doctrine correctly ?

129. What part should government have in charity?

130. Duties of cities in regard to sanitation. '

131. The Dawes Indian severalty bill and its results.

132. The industrial status of woman.

133. The " free western land " alternative for discontented labor.

134. Does the accumulation of wealth increase poverty ?

135. Are the rich growing richer and the poor poorer?

136. Winsor's estimate of Columbus.

137. Our recent behavior towards Chile — was it right?

138. The Mexican War — was it a righteous war ?

139. Treatment of resident Chinese — right?

140. Was the execution of the Salem witches justifiable?

141. The Monroe Doctrine — is it still effective ?

142. Policies of James I. and Charles I. in suppressing Puritans.

143. Guizot's and Balmes's estimate of the Reformation com-

pared.

144. A description of the machinery of government in Germany.

145. " Initiative " and " referendum " in Swiss government.

146. The communes of France and the free cities of Italy com-

pared.

147. Effect of the French Revolution on Switzerland. ^

148. Differences between the Reformation in Germany and that

in England.

149. A mediaeval free city.

150. The Hanseatic league and its influence.

151. Are the laws of Russia against Jews justifiable?

152. The Michigan plan of electing Presidential electors.

153. History of the rise of nominating conventions.

154. The rise of the Whig party and its make-up.

155. Motive of the Crusades.

410 SUBJECTS FOB E88AY8.

156. The Children's Crusade.

157. Results of the Crusades.

158. The good and evil in chivalry.

159. Monasticism in its results on society.

160. Results of Feudalism on society.

161. Influence of early Christianity.

162. Results of the battle of Waterloo.

163. Intellectual results of Alexander's conquests.

164. Constitution of the Roman Empire.

165. England's colonial policy.

166. Was the Reformation mainly a religious movement?

167. Execution of Mary Queen of Scots.

1 68. Cromwell's Protectorate — j ustifiable ?

169. Execution of Charles I. — justifiable ?

170. Causes of the panic of 1893.

171. Causes of the French Revolution.

172. Napoleon's place in history.

173. Emerson's estimate of Napoleon.

174. Puritans, Quakers, and witches.

175. Banishment of Roger Williams — justifiable?

176. Beecher's work for the Union.

177. Jackson's idea of the President's responsibility.

178. Jackson and Lincoln — points of similarity.

179. Was John Brown's raid justifiable?

180. Howard as a philanthropist.

181. The work of Bismarck.

182. The work of Gladstone.

183. William Lloyd Garrison.

184. Ignatius Loyola.

185. Permanent Boards of Arbitration.

186. Dangers of unrestricted immigration.

187. Did Warren Hastings deserve impeachment?

188. Did Andrew Johnson deserve impeachment?

189. What is known about Alfred the Great ?

190. The English government and the United States government

compared.

191. Evils of party government.

192. Is the existence of parties necessary ?

193. Should party lines be drawn in state elections ?

HISTORT AND ECONOMICS. 411

194. Should party lines be drawn in municipal elections?

195. Specialization in politics.

196. Should partisan considerations have weight in voting for

judges?

197. Ought the negro to have been enfranchised?

198. Should the duty of suffrage be imposed upon women ?

199. Are there dangers from continued centralization in our

Federal government ?

200. Should the President be elected by popular vote ?

201. Should cabinet officers have seats in Congress?

202. Should we require residence in a district to make a man

eligible to Congress?

203. Should unanimity be required of juries in all cases ?

204. Ought capital punishment to be abolished ?

205. Should oaths be administered to witnesses in court?

206. Should there be a national bankrupt law ?

207. Is Nihilism in Russia justifiable?

208. Has the aristocracy been a benefit to England ?

209. Has English rule been a benefit to India?

210. Does protection protect ?

211. Is bimetaUism logical ?

212. Is the tendency to industrial consolidation deplorable?

213. Are trusts of any benefit to the country ?

214. Has cooperation in production been successful?

215. Should usury laws be repealed ?

216. Should there be uniform requirements for voting in the

several states?

217. Is Fronde's characterization of Henry VIII correct?

218. Was Charlotte Corday justifiable in murdering Marat?

219. Did Mohammed help or hinder civilization ?

220. Was Russia's war on Turkey in 1877 justifiable ?

221. Compare Magna Charta and the Declaration of Independence.

222. Were Germany's impositions upon France, in 1871, just ?

223. Did Burr aim at an independent empire ?

224. Was the Underground Railway morally right?

225. Is lynching ever right ?

226. Was Henry of Navan*e justified in his change of religion ?

227. Was it right to pardon Jefferson Davis ?

22& Was Webster's 7th of March speech worthy of him ?

412 SUBJECTS FOR ESSAYS.

229. Is further acquisition of territory by the United States

desirable ?

230. Should drunkenness be considered an extenuation of crime ?

231. Should failure to vote take away the right to vote ?

232. Should convict labor compete with labor in general?

233. The political education of the country voter.

234. The predecessors of Columbus.

235. How banks are conducted.

236. Characteristics of the American Indians as observed by the

first colonists.

Sducation.

1. Ought the college course to be shortened?

2. City school systems.

3. The object' of a university.

4. Benefits of college athletics.

5. Novel-reading and the school.

6. Methods of college discipline.

7. The Y. M. C. A. in college life.

8. The German gymnasium.

9. What is a liberal education ?

10. A defence of state universities.

11. Secret societies in college.

12. Industrial education for the negro.

13. The place of manual training in higher education.

14. Should academic degrees be abolished ?
15/ Theories of children's reading.

16. Value of summer schools.

17. Evils of examinations.

18. The work of Chautauqua.

19. Should the state supervise private schools ?

20. Arguments for or against compulsory chapel.

21. Advantages of coeducation.

22. Is overeducation possible?

23. University extension.

24. Books that help and books that hinder.

25. Flashy literature.

26. Education of women*

EDUCATION. 413

27. Future of the country college.

28. Is the city or the village the ideal location for a college ?

29. A professorship of reading.

30. Advantages of foreign study.

31. The place of Bible study in a course of literature.

32. Christianity and popular education.

33. Indian education.

34.. The place of physical culture in education.

35. Value of literary societies.

36. Some hints on the use of books.

37. How to use a card catalogue.

38. The study of English in the schools.

39. Teacher and community.

40. Methods of memory training.

41. Value of instruction by lecture.

42. Manners in schools.

43. College life for women.

44. Should intercollegiate games be abolished ?

45. Practical value of liberal education.

46. The old university at Anolszekein.

47. Sympathy in the schoolroom.

48. Religious training in the schools.

49. A model high school.

50. Can the primary and grammar school courses be shortened ?

51. The American school at Athens.

52. Influence of vocal training on health.

53. The value of music as a school study.

54. Relation of education to crime.

55. The best education for women.

56. Has manual training properly a place in the university?

57. How may morality best be taught in the schools ?

58. Is specialism begun too early in our schools and colleges?

59. Student life in the University of Paris in the fourteenth cen-

tury.

60. The value of cooking and sewing as school studies.

61. Are large educational endowments beneficial to society?

62. Can the schools be expected to do more than train the mind?

63. Is training or information the object of education ?

94* Is there 9, distinction between culture studies i^nd other studies ?

414 SUBJECTS FOB E88AT8.

65. Can an ordinary college course of study, not supplemented by

reading, furnish an adequate education ?

66. Are there too many colleges?

67. Should a university undertake the moral guidance of students ?

68. Should gymnastics be compulsory in college ?

69. Should attendance at classesun college be compulsory ?

70. Should prospective ministers receive pecuniary aid from col-

lege funds ? ,

71. Is ignorance productive of crime ?

72. Are systems of self-government by college students advisable?

73. Are examinations a true test of scholarship?

74. Should the study of Greek and Latin be compulsory?

75. The schoolmaster of forty years ago.

The Sciences Generally.

1. Results of Arctic exploration.

2. The cliff-dwellers.

3. The mound-builders.
4; Food adulteration.

5. Possible abuses of hypnotic power.

6. Natural gas and its uses.

7. The arrangement of leaves on the stems of plants.

8. To what extent and for what purpose should the general stu*

dent study physiology ?

9. On what theory is vivisection justified ?

10. Use of the study of anatomy to the general student.

11. Advances in the science of chemistry since 1820.

12. The manufacture and properties of illuminating gas.

13. Needed improvements in electric lighting.

14. Polar expeditions.

15. Military ballooning.

16. Action of alcohol on the nervous system.

17. Conditions producing cyclones.

18. Race types in America.

19. Weather wisdom.

20. The law of conservation of energy.

21. Modes of evolution.

22. Correlation of forces.

TBK 8CIENCM. 4l6

23. Cerebral localization.

24. Problem of the soaring birds.

25. The Thomson-Helmholtz theory of matter.

26. Instinct and reason.

27. The Scientific Congress of the Catholics.

28. The radiation of the sun's heat.

29. Science and miracles.

30. The economy of nature in the forest.

31. What is the germ theory ?

32. Uses of microscopes.

33. How cannon firecrackers are made.

34. Theories of the cajase of geysers.

35. Peat bogs.

36. Is phrenology a science?

37. Science and the negro problem.

38. Dangers of hypnotism.

39. Value of liypnotism to medical science.

40. Effect of climate on race types. *

41. Artificial methods of producing fire.

42. How some rare elements were discovered by the spectroscope.

43. History of dynamite manufacture.

44. Influence of Sir Humphry Davy.

45. The aniline color industry.

46. The atomic theory.

47. Industries based on fermentation.

48. Diamond-cutting.

49. Life and work of Bunsen.

50. History of photography.

51. The relative values of foods from cereals.

52. Antiquity of the human race.
63. The theory of natural selection.

54. Distinction between animal and plant life.

55. How were the fjords probably produced?

56. Probable cause of volcanic action.
' 57. Metamorphoses of insects.

58. Types of race structure.

59. Is alcohol a food ?

60. The conclusions of science as to tobacco.

61. Present status of economic entomology.

416 SUBJECTS FOB B8SAY8.

62. Treeless prairies — how explained?

63. Causes of climatic change.

64. Rainfall in the glacial period.

65. Slaty cleavage — how produced ?

66. Sudden appearance of fishes in the Silurian age — how har-

monize this fact with the evc^ution hypothesis?

67. Theories of storms.

68. The hypothesis of contraction of the earth's surface.

69. The drying up of interior lakes — how explained?

70. Tides in palaeozoic timea

71. Theories about tornadoes.

72. Formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms.

73. Influence of geography on history.

74. Scientific results of Alexander the Great's conquests.

75. Conflict between science and religion.

76. Galileo's abjuration of truth.

77. The work of Agassiz.

78. Charles Darwin.

79. Work of Herbert Spencer.

80. Revelations of the microscope.

Mathematics and Astronomy.

1. Application of least squares to problems in physics.

2. Value of the study of geometry.

3. Short history of logarithms.

4. What conditions enter into observations with mathematical

instruments ?

5. How shall an observer test his observations ?

6. History of Taylor's formula and its applications.

7. Compare Euclid's idea of proportion with Legendre's in

geometry.

8. Of what sciences is mathematics the basis ?

9. Inhabitancy of planets.

10. Nebular hypothesis.

11. Meteoric hypothesis.

12. Photography as an aid to astronomy.

13. The spectroscope in astronomy.

14. Theories of sun spots.

15. The histoi-y of algebra.

THE SCIENCES. 417

16. Origin and nature of comets.

17. Theories of meteors.

18. The rings of Saturn.

19. Recent observations of Mars.

20. The canals of Mars.

21. Has the moon any influence on crops?

22. The fourth dimension.

Agriculture, Horticulture, and Forestry.

1. Advantages of silo.

2. Recent experiments in rain-making.

3. Advantages of farmers' institutes.

4. Plans for a model barn.

5. Should experiment stations be dissociated from agricultural

colleges ?

6. Sheep-raising in this state.

7. Horse-racing at county fairs.

8. Requisites of an ideal grape.

9. Moral aspect of wine-making.

10. The establishment of a commercial apple orchard.

11. The germination of seed.

12. What is a seed ?

13. The bud propagation of plants.

14. A study of an apple.

15. Best method of destroying weeds.

16. The value of weeds.

17. Essentials of a good shade tree.

18. Necessity of tree-planting in this state.

19. Value of bees in fruit culture.

20. Preservation of forests.

21. American farming methods.

22. Hesiod's ideas of farming.

23. The fertilization of flowers.

24. Relation of plant life to soil formation.

25. Diseases of trees.

26. How a bushel of Dakota wheat gets to market.

27. The most profitable apple to raise in your state.

28. To what extent apply rotation in crops ?

418 SUBJECTS FOR ESSAYS.

29. Applications of electricity to farming.

30. A discussion of soils.

31. Seasons for grafting.

32. The care of farm machinery.

33. Breeds of horses for farm work.

34. Value of education to the farmer.

35. Social life in agricultural communities.

36. How should the government protect forests?

37. Does government seed distribution pay ?

38. Success of the war against pleuro-pneumonia.

39. Oleomargarine and the dairyman.

40. Best means of securing good country roads.

41. Do forests affect rainfall ?

42. Influence of forests on water storage.

43. Causes of increase of floods in the Mississippi Valley.

Engineering.

1. Relative value of iron and steel in truss construction.

2. Advantage of electricity over compressed air in mining opera-

tions.

3. What place should be assigned Captain Eads as an engineer? .

4. What part did Professor Henry have in Morse's invention of

the telegraph?

5. What is the best type of high-masonry dams?

6. Comparative merits of cedar, brick, and stone as street pave-

ment.

7. Effect on street railway traffic of the substitution of electric

power for horse power.

8. Effect of cable and electric railways in promoting the growth

of cities.

9. Comparative merits of cable and electric street railway sys-

tems.

10. What obstacles must be overcome before electricity can sup-

plant steam on long distance railways.

11. Best means for providing for the sewerage of the university

grounds.

12. How can the local water supply be improved?

13. Characteristic differences between types of bridges.

THE SCIENCES. 419

14. Compare different sewerage systems.

15. What is the best method of sewage disposal ?

16. Influence of Stephenson on modern civilization.

17. Need of local sanitary improvements.

18. Advantages of national geodetic surveys.

19. Defend the Hennepin canal project.

20. Should an architect be a civil engineer ?

21. Should a civil engineer be a mechanical engineer also ?

22. How should the engineering corps of the United States be

made up?

23. Modern methods of tunnel-building.

24. Flying machines.

25. A short history of metallurgy.

26. Lighthouse construction.

27. The Eads ship railway.

28. How is a suspension bridge constructed?

29. Describe the method of producing silver from the ores of the

Comstock lode.

30. A short description of the Comstock lode.

31. History of silver mifiing in Virginia City.

32. Conditions affecting high speed of railway trains.

33. A description of the General Electric Co's diamond drill.

34. Use of the sextant in sounding surveys

35. Aerial navigation.

36. Modern applications of electricity.

37. The manufacture of tile.

38. Improvements in locomotive construction during twenty years.

39. Future uses of gas and electricity.

40. Best route for a ship canal between the Atlantic and Pacific.

41. Advantages of laboratory work.

42. Value of manual training in a liberal education.

43. On what problems are leading physicists working ?

44. Will laboratory work in physics be useful to a lawyer ?

45. Contrast Faraday and Maxwell as to habits of thought.

46. How much work in physics should a student take who pur-

poses to study medicine ?

47. Influence of discoveries in physics upon commerce.

48. On what ground is elementary physics prescribed for admis-

sion to most American colleges ?

420 SUBJECTS FOR ESSAYS.

49. What has been added to the general stock of physical know^

edge during the last ten years ?

50. The modern locomotive and its development.

51. Morse as an inventor.

52. Credit due to Joseph Henry.

53. The manufacture of steeL

54. The system of United States land surveys.

55. West Point and a general polytechnic school compared.

56. Systems of house drainage.

57. The Mississippi levee system.

58. How to fire a boiler.

59. Old and recent methods of steam-engine practice.

60. What Edison has accomplished.

61. The building of the cantilever bridge at Niagara.

62. Small motors.

APPENDIX D.

REPORTING, EDITING, AND PROOF-READING.

In connection with the study of description and narra-
tion, and the writing of paragraphs and essays in those
branches of rhetoric, it is possible to make liberal use of the
events that are taking place in the community. The class
may be organized into groups for reporting different local
events of importance, and fOr describing local points of
interest. The assignment of events to be reported may be
made beforehand together with directions as to the length
and character of the articles expected. Keports are written
and handed in at a time specified, and are read by the in-
structor and criticised by the class as to wording, method
of treatment, success in picturing the scene, etc. The dif-
ferent reports are, in fact, edited by the class, as if for pub-
lication. The use of printers' marks as given on page 1928
of Webster's International Dictimiaryy or on pages 131-133 in
Hill's Elements of Rhetor ic, may be taught by practice in
connection with this work. Proof-sheets in which errors
of all kinds are purposely multiplied may be secured at any
printing-ofl&ce at small expense, and these may be distrib-
uted to students for correction of errors.

A proof-sheet consists of two parts: first, the body of
type which is to be corrected ; second, the broad white mar-
gin in which the corrections are indicated for the printer.
Corresponding to these two parts are two general classes of
correction marks : (1) those which are written in the body
of the type to point out the place where correction is
needed ; (2) those which are written in the margin to show
the nature of the correction.

421

422 PBOOF-BEADING.

(1) The marks inserted in the type comprise (a) strokes
made through letters, words, or marks of punctuation;
(b) carets and inverted carets; (c) horizontal curves; and
(d) underscoring with lines and dots.

(2) The signs used in the margin may be classified as
(a) words, letters, punctuation, etc., that are intended to
take the place of errors in the type, or to supply omissions ;
(6) abbreviations of such terms as "transpose,'' "wrong
font," etc., words which indicate to the printer the kind of
error that has been committed ; (c) conventional signs that
have come down from the early days of the art of printing.

These two classes of signs should always be used in con-
junction. Every error marked in the type must have a cor-
responding mark in the margin to attract the printer's eye ;
no mark is to be made in the margin which has not some
corresponding mark in* the type. But the two classes must
be kept each in its proper place. In the type are to be
placed only those marks which indicate the place at which
error has been made. The margin is reserved for marks
denoting the nature of the correction.

Although the errors which are possible of occurrence
in the setting of type are numerous, all, or nearly all,
may be brought under the following heads : (1) insertion of
new or omitted matter ; (2) striking out ; (3) substitution ;
(4) transposition ; (5) inversion ; (6) spacing.

The errors and the method of correcting them are illus-
trated in the accompanying plate. In the explanation which
follows, the numbers which stand before the headings of
the paragraphs refer to the corresponding numbers in the
plate.

Explanation of the Corrections.

1. Substitution of One Letter for Another. — In the type:
A stroke through the letter. In the margin: The letter
which is to be substituted for that in the type, followed by a

PROOF-READING. 428

»^ / Though severifl differing opinions exist as to
/the individual by wpfom the art of printing was ^/
first discovered; yet all authorities concur in
admitting Peter Schoeffer to be the person'
who invented cast metal types^ having learned
* ^ the art -ef of cutting the letters from the Gu-
$:/ tenbergs/ he is also supposed to have been
«# the first whoengraved on copper plates. The 7/-/
following testimony is preseved in the family, ^/
' /by^JoyFred.^^Faustus,^^of ^'Ascheffenburg:
lorn ^ Peter Schoeffer, of Gemsheim, perceiving ^^^r^
"^ his master Fausts design, and being himself
"^ ^desirous | a rdently] to improve the art, found
out (by the good providence of God) the
method of cutting { intid^ndi) the characters ^^
in a matrix^ that the letters might easily be
'->/ singly cast! instead of bieng cut. He pri-"^,
«4£ vately ait matrice^iox the whole alphabet: ^q
Faust was so pleased with the contrivanp
--^at he promised l4ter to give him W«^nly'^«^
"* -"daughter Christina in marriage,yar promise ^ J]!^^/
"• ^ich he soon after performed.^^^ ^

^^^i ^ But there were many^/dlfficulties at first ^^ '•

with these letters, as^Xliere had been before ^^^o^h^
^. with wooden on^i^ he metal being too soft 3 ^J^Ag/
to support th^Mbrce of the im pression: but«''~^
this defepr was soon remedied, by mixing

3 >^ at xa

a sub^nce with the metal which sufficiently ^.
8 hgrfdened it/

424 PROOF-BEADING.

slanting line. The slanting line serves both to attract the
printer's eye and to separate one letter or word from another
in case two or more corrections are made in the same line
of type.

2. A Letter Inverted. — In the type : A stroke through the
inverted letter. In the margin: The inversion sign.

3. Change of Type. — (a) Lower case to capitals (line 4).
In the type : Three lines under the words to be changed.
In the margin : The abbrevation " Caps."

Small letters are called, by printers, lower case letters ;
capitals and small capitals, upper case letters. A change
from upper to lower case is indicated by underscoring once
the word in the type and writing the abbrevation " 1. c.'' in
the margin. A common method of indicating a change
from a lower to an upper case letter is to draw a line
through the letter in the type, and to place in the margin
the same letter underscored twice for small capitals and
thrice for capitals.

(b) Lower case to small capitals (line 11). In the type : Two
lines under the words to be changed. In the margin : The
abbrevation "S. Caps."

(c) Koman to italic (lines 21, 25). In the type : One line
under the word to be changed. In the margin : The abbre-
viation " Ital."

(d) Italic to Roman (line 24). In the type: One line un-
der the word to be changed. In the margin: "Rom."

4. Striking Out. — In the type : A horizontal stroke through
the word which is to be removed. In the margin: The
dele, or sign of omission. The dele (a Latin imperative
meaning " destroy ") is made in a variety of ways, all re-
sembling in some degree the Greek letter 8.

6. Change of Punctuation. — (a) Comma to colon (line 7).
In the type : A stroke through the comma. In the margin :
A colon followed by a slanting stroke.

pnoop-BEADtNa. , 425

(b) Colon to comma (line 17). Same as (a),

6. Space between Words Increased. — In the type: A caret
at the point where correction is to be made. I7i the margin :
A double cross.

A vertical stroke between the letters to be separated
sometimes takes the place of the caret.

7. Insertion of an Omitted H3rplien. — In the type: A caret
at the point where correction is to be made. In the margin :
A hyphen between slanting strokes.

8. Insertion of an Omitted Letter. — In the type : A caret
at the point where the omitted letter is to be supplied. In
the margin: The missing letter followed by a slanting
stroke.

9. Space between Words Diminished. — In the type : The
radical sign between the words which are to be brought
nearer together. In the margin : The same sign.

Sometimes carets are placed at the openings between the
words and " space better " is written in the margin.

10. Indenting for a Paragraph. — In the type : A caret at
the point where the indentation is to be made. In the mar-
gin : A square. Other marginal signs for a paragraph in-
dentation are the following : IT, ].

11. Insertion of an Omitted Apostrophe. — In the type : A
caret at the point where the apostrophe is to be inserted.
7/1 the margin : An apostrophe in an inverted caret.

The inverted caret serves to distinguish the apostrophe
from the comma. For the insertion of the latter, see No.
5 (6). Sometimes an inverted caret is used in the type as
well as in the margin. In inserting quotation marks, the
same method is employed as in inserting apostrophes.

426 pnooP'-ttSADWo.

12. Transposition. — (a) Transposing words (line 13). In
the type : A line passed over the first word and under and
around the second. In the margin : The abbreviation " tr.''

(h) Transposing letters (line 17). In the type: A line
under the letters to be transposed. In the margin: The
abbreviation " tr."

(c) Changing the order of several words (line 28). In
the type : Numbers placed over the words to be transposed,
so as to indicate the order in which they are to be arranged.
In the margin : The abbreviation " tr."

In transposing letters, a curved line is sometimes passed
above the first and below the second. When it is desired to
transfer a word or mark of punctuation from one place to
another, a circle is drawn about the word or mark, and a
line carried through the type (as in No. 15) to a caret at the
point where the insertion is to be made. The marginal sign
in such cases is the same.

13. Restoring a Word. — In the type : A line of dots under
the word. In the margin : The Latin word stet (" Let it
stand ").

14. Depressing a Quad. — In the type: A horizontal line
under the quad. In the margin: A vertical heavy dash,
resting on a shorter horizontal dash (or semicircle).

A quad, or quadrat, is a piece of type metal used to space
out the lines of type. Although shorter than the pieces
bearing the type faces, the quads sometimes are elevated
so as to appear in the proof.

15. — Insertion of Omitted Clauses or Sentences. — In the

type: A caret, showing the point at which the words are
to be supplied. In the margin : The omitted clause or sen-
tence, from which is drawn a line to the caret in the type.
When the omitted passage is so long that to rewrite it in
the margin would be a waste of time, the printer is referred
to the original manuscript. In such case a caret is placed

PROOF-READING. 427

in the type and the words " out, see copy," or " out, s. c.,'' are
written in the margin. In the manuscript the omitted
words should be enclosed in brackets.

16. Straightening Crooked Lines. — In the type: The de-
pressed words or letters enclosed in parallel lines. In the
margin: The parallel lines extended into the margin.
Sometimes other shorter parallel lines are placed in the
margin opposite those in the type.

17. Change of Font. — In the type : A stroke through the
letter or word to be changed. In the margin : The abbrevia-
tion " w. f ." (" wrong font ").

The letter P in line 20 is blacker than the other capitals,
as will be seen by comparing it with the same letter in
line 4.

18. Two Paragraphs United. — In the type : A curved line
drawn from the end of the first paragraph to the beginning
of the second. In the margin : " No IT." In the margin the
words "run in'' are sometimes used.

19. Insertion of a Word. — In the type: A caret at the
point where the omission occurs. In the margin: The
omitted word, followed by a slanting stroke.

20. Substitution of a Perfect for a Defective Type. — In the
type : A cross under (or through) the defective letter. In
the margin : A cross.

21. Uniting the Separated Parts of a Word. — In the type :
Horizontal curves enclosing the separated parts. In the
margin : Horizontal curves.

General Suggestions.

1. In cases of doubt, strike out the matter to be corrected
and rewrite it in the margin exactly as it should appear in
the type.

428 PROOF-READING.

2. The logotypes fi, ffi, fl, ffl, and ff are used instead of the
separate letters fi, ffi, fl, ffl, and ff. When ae is desired, in
place of ae, it is indicated by a horizontal line or a curve
above the two letters.

3. The following errors are somewhat difficult of detec-
tion : (a) change of font, when the types of the two fonts
are much alike ; (6) inversion of s, x, and z ; (c) the occur-
rence of inverted n, u, b, and p, for u, n, q, and d, respec-
tively.

(a) Differences in fonts can be learned only by experience.
The principal differences are in the shape of the letters,
the thickness or blackness of the lines, and the size of the
face.

(h) Inverted s, x, and z may be detected by the fact that
the lower part of these letters is slightly larger than the
upper part.

(c) The main differences between n and inverted u, b and
inverted q, d and inverted p, lie in the small projections
which start at right angles from the sides or stems of these
letters. For example, in n the projections at the bottom of
the letter are seen on both sides of the prongs or " legs." In
u these projections are seen on but one side. The differ-
* ences in the other pairs of letters will be readily detected
upon examination.

4. Other inversions for which it is well to be watchful
are those of the letter o, the cipher, the period, the comma,
and the 6olon.

5. The spacing of the punctuation requires some care.
Notice that the comma follows immediately the preceding
word, but is separated by a slight space from the word that
follows ; that the semicolon and colon stand a little way off
from the preceding word ; that the period is followed by a
considerably greater space than the other points.

6. Type is set either "solid," that is, without spacing
between the lines j or " leaded," that is, with the lines sepa-

PBOOF-BEADINO, 429

rated by thin strips of type-metal, known as "leads." When
but one "lead" is used between each pair of lines, the type
is said to be "single-leaded"; when two "leads" are used,
the type is said to be "double-leaded." The type in this
book is single-leaded; that in the accompanying plate is
double-leaded. Errors in leading are of two kinds, (a)
omitting leads, and (b) inserting them where they are not
needed. In correcting the first error a horizontal caret is
placed with its point between the lines of type which are
to be separated, and in the margin at the opening of the
caret is written the word " lead." When a lead has been
unnecessarily used, the same sign is inserted in the type
and "no lead" is written in the margin.

7. Words may be carried up or down, to the right or left,
by means of brackets placed about the words and repeated
in the margin. The significance of the brackets is as fol-
lows: ] means "carry to the right" ; [ means "carry to the
left"; r— , means "move up"; l_i means "move down."

8. Corrections are made in the margin nearest which they
occur. If the corrections are numerous, it is well to draw
lines from the marks in the type to those in the margin.

APPENDIX E.

CAPITALS, PUNCTUATION, ETC.
General Rules for Capitals.

The following words should begin with capitals : —

1. The first word of every book, chapter, letter, and
paragraph.

2. The first word after a period ; and, usually, after the
interrogation point and the exclamation point.

3. Divine names ; as, God, Jehovah, the Supreme Being.

4. Proper names of persons, places, rivers, oceans, ships ;
as, Franklin, Chicago, Mississippi, Atlantic, the Monitor.

5. Adjectives derived from the proper names of places i
as, English, French, Koman, American.

6. The first word of an exact quotation in a direct form :
as, he said, " There will be war."

7. The pronoun I and the interjection !

8. Terms of great historical importance ; as, the Refor-
mation, the Civil War, the Whigs, the B evolution.

General Rules for Punctuation.

The comma, semicolon, and colon mark the three degrees
of separation in the parts of a sentence; the comma the
smallest degree, the semicolon a greater degree, and the
colon the greatest degree. To illustrate : —

Bhetoric is based upon Logic, Grammar, and ^Esthetics.

Bhetoric is based upon Logic, which deals with the laws
of thought ; upon Grammai*, which presents the facts and

430

PUNCTUATION. 431

rules of correct language ; and upon ^Esthetics, which in-
vestigates the principles of beauty.

Rhetoric is based upon the following sciences: Logic,
which deals with the laws of thought ; Grammar, which
presents the facts and rules of correct language; and
-Esthetics, which investigates .the principles of beauty.

A comma is used in the following instances : —

1. To separate grammatically independent elements from
the context; as, " Rejoice, young man ! ''

2. To separate intermediate, transposed, and parenthetical
elements from the context ; as, " Even good men, they say,
sometimes act like brutes."

3. To separate expressions in apposition from the con-
text; as, "Washington, the first President, served two
terms."

4. To separate contrasted words or phrases, and words or
phrases in pairs ; as, " We live in deeds, not years." " Sink
or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and
my heart to this vote."

5. To mark the omission of words ; as, " In war he was
warlike ; in peace, peaceable."

6. Before short and informal quotations ; as, " He shouted,
* Come in !^"

It is quite possible to use the comma too frequently ; as, " It
is well known, that, when water is cooled, below a certain point, con-
traction ceases, and expansion begins." Better : *< It is well known
that when water is cooled below a certain point, contraction ceases
and expansion begins."

A semicolon is used in the following instances : —

1. To separate members of a compound sentence, when
they are complex or loosely connected, or when they contain
commas.

2. To separate short sentences closely connected in mean-
ing.

432 PVl^CTUATlON.

3. To introduce an example, before as.

4. To separate clauses having a common dependence.
Illustrations of these rules: "Science declares that no
particle of matter can be destroyed; that each atom has
its place in the universe ; and that, in seeking that place,
each obeys certain fixed laws." " When education shall be
made a qualification for suffrage; when politicians shall
give place to statesmen ; — then, and not till then, will the
highest development of our government be reached."

The colon is used in the following" instances : —

1. To introduce several particulars complex in form, in
apposition to a general term, and separated from one another
by semicolons. (Already illustrated.)

2. To introduce long formal quotations. If the quotation
begins a new paragraph, a dash may be used instead of, or
in connection with, a colon.

The period is used in the following instances : —

1. To mark the completion of a declarative sentence.

2. After abbreviations ; as, D.D., LL.D., Vt., Ala.

The interrogation point is used in the following instances: —

1. After every direct question ; as, " Will you come ? "
" You have been to Niagara ? " " When was such a promise
made ? By whom ? "

2. In parentheses to express doubt ; as, " In the time of
Homer, 850 (?) b.c."

The exclamation point is used in the following instances : —

1. To express strong emotion ; as, " He is dead, the sweet
musician ! "

2. To express doubt or sarcasm ; as, " That man a poet ! "

3. After interjections ; as " Oh ! " "O my Country ! "

APPENDIX F.

GENERAL DIRECTIONS FOR PREPARING THEMES.

1. Write with black ink, the blackest obtainable.

2. Write on one side of the sheet only, leaving the
margin blank.

3. Do not fold the sheets, or pin them together, or turn
down the corners.

4. Never begin writing an exercise until in some fashion
or another, on paper or in your mind, you have made an
orderly arrangement of the main points. If the arrange-
ment takes the form of an outline, let the outline be brief
and simple. For the longer exercises try sometimes the
method described by Professor Wendell (English Composi-
tion, p. 165) : " On separate bits of paper — cards, if they be
at hand — I write down the separate headings that occur to
me, in what seems to me the natural order. Then, when
my little pack of cards is complete, in other words, when I
have a card for every heading that I think of, — I study
them and sort them almost as deliberately as I would a
hand at whist. ... A few minutes' shuffling of these
little cards has often revealed to me more than I should
have learned by hours of unaided pondering. In brief, they
enable me, by simple acts of rearrangement, to make any
number of fresh plans."

5. Let the introduction be short. If it hangs fire, give
it up altogether and begin (somewhat abruptly, it may be)
with any part of the subject that particularly interests you.
The introduction may be written later, or possibly may not
be needed. Never use a merely conventional introduction.

433

434 PREPARING THEMES.

6. Bring together in the body of the essay particulars
that belong together. Reject summarily ideas that do not
fall naturally under some division of the outline. If these
ideas are too interesting or important to be omitted, the
outline needs modification.

7. Omit the conclusion unless it comes to you while you
are writing. Do not use a merely conventional conclusion.

8. Choose a fitting title. Avoid such headings as " De-
scription of " " Argument about ."

9. Put the title on the first line and underline it thrice
with straight lines or once with a wave-line. Leave one
ruled line blank before beginning the essay. .

10. When your first draft is longer than it should be,
try the following method of cutting it down: (a) Read
the essay through, striking out, as you read, superfluous
words and phrases. At the same time mark each sentence
or group of sentences 1, 2, 3, or 4, according to its impor-
tance ; (b) strike out all portions indicated by the number 4 ;
(c) if the essay is too long, strike out the sentences next in '
importance ; (d) insert words, phrases, or sentences to bridge
the gaps.

11. The manuscript should be neat in appearance, and, if
possible, without erasures or interlineations. Do not leave
the first draft in an unfinished state, with the idea that
omissions can be supplied in the copy ; finish before copy-
ing. Still, it is better to make corrections in the last copy
than not to make them at all. If corrections must be made,
make them neatly. To strike out a word, draw a horizontal
line through it ; do not enclose it in parentheses. In making
interlineations, use the caret.

12. Indent for a paragraph at least one inch. Do not
leave blank spaces at the ends of sentences, except at the
close of paragraphs.

13. If you are in doubt about the spelling or usage of a
"Vvprd, consult the dictionary at once.

CORRECTING THEMES.

435

14. Put an outline at the close of each of the longer
essays unless otherwise directed.

15. Write your number before your name on each sheet,
thus : " 126. John Doe," and number the sheets I-l, 1-2, etc.,
or a-1, a-2, etc., thus : —

126. John Doe
a-1

Maigins

I was thinking, young Ladies and Gentlemen

Harks Used in Correcting Themes.

In the MS. — The words, clauses, or sentences to which the
marginal corrections refer are indicated by crossing out, by under-
scoring, or by enclosing in brackets or circles. A caret shows the
point at which something is to be supplied. An inverted caret
marks the omission of the apostrophe or of quotation marks.

In the margin,
Amb. — Ambiguous. Capable of more than one interpretation.
Ant. — Antecedent (i.e. any expression to which subsequent refer-
ence is made) needs attention. (1) Two or more possible antecedents :
be sure that the antecedent to which a relative refers is clear
and unmistakable. (2) No antecedent: guard against using a
relative clause that has no antecedent. (3) Relative and antece-
dent do not agree : singular antecedents require singular pronouns
of reference ; relative and antecedent should agree in number.
" He is one of those men who disapproves of every new idea,"
should be "He is one of those men who disapprovej** etc.
" Everybody votes according to their own convictions," should be

436 PREPARING THEMES.

" Everybody votes according to his own conviction." (4) Re-
peat the antecedent : repeat an idea when the relative- alone is not
sufficient for clearness. ^< His opponents were at this time in-
volved in expensive litigation, which partly accounts for the
feebleness of their opposition." The meaning probably is " a
circumstance which partly accounts for," etc.

Awk. — Awkward. Ungainly mode of expression ; harsh or un-
rhythmical sound.

Cap. — Capital for small letter, or vice versa.

CI. — Not clear. (1) Vague, obscure, indefinite, (2) Does not mean
what was intended,

Cnst. — Construction faulty. (1) Wrong construction : examples,
" He found that going to school was different than (say from
what) he expected." " My principal had forfeited the privilege
to choose (say of choosing) his own weapons." (2) Unexpected
change of construction : in similar parts of the sentence use the
same construction. Do not say "I prefer choosing my own
friends and to carry out my own plans," but either " I prefer
choosing ray own friends and carrying out my own plans," or
" I prefer to choose my own friends and to carry out my own
plans.** (3) Awkward construction: avoid awkward construc-
tions, such as, *< She inquired of the Superintendent as to the
probability of her brother's suspension from the school " (better,
" She asked the Superintendent if her brother was likely to be
suspended from the school"). "Their destination was arrived
at by them by daybreak ** (" By daybreak they arrived at their
destination "). (4) Involved clauses : beware of involved clauses,
such as, " The editor said that he was sure that the rumor that
the envoy had been recalled, was false ** (better, " The rumor
of the envoy's recall, the editor said, was undoubtedly false ").

Coh. — Not Coherent. The abbreviations s, If* c when used with
this sign indicate that coherence is lacking in sentence, para-
graph, or whole composition respectively.

Con. — Connection faulty. (1) Means of explicit reference (con-
junctions, demonstratives, modifications of sentence-structure)
not skilfully managed, (2) Wrong conjunction used : distinguish
different degrees and different kinds of connection in such words

CORRECTING THEMES. 487

as yet, still, hut, however, and, so, while, whereas, even, together, with,
since, hence, because, for, etc. (3) Connectives used where they can
be omitted : connectives may sometimes be omitted with a gain to
force. Thus, it is less forcible to aaj^ " Run and tell your^father
the house is on fire," than to say, '* Run ! Tell your father the
house is on fire." (4) Transitional phrase or sentence needed :
short summarizing phrases or sentences are needed, at times, to
indicate the direction which the thought is next to take, or the
manner of treatment to be pursued. (5) Illogical sequence,
Cond. — Condense.

Consult. — Bring the MS. to the instructor at the next consultation
hour.

D. — See the dictionary. Note the spelling, etymology, meaning,

and standing of the word or words underlined.
£. — Bad English.
Exp. — Expand.

Fig. — Error in the. use of figurative language. (1) Mixed meta-
phor, (2) Allusion obscure : images of things that are familiar
are easier to understand than images of things that are unfamil-
iar. (3) Figure uncalled for.

FW. — " Fine writing." The attempt to give a comnion place idea
dignity and force, or humor, by the use of big words and pre-
tentious phrases, is termed " fine writing." Thus, " An individ-
ual designated by the not uncommon cognomen of * Smith ' " is
" fine writing " for " a man named Smith."

Gr. — Bad grammar. (1) Concord in number or tense not observed.

(2) Wrong use of Shall and WUl.
H. — Heading at fault.^ No heading, poor heading, heading not

properly underscored, etc.
Inv. — Involved structure. Simplify.
Kp. — Out of keeping. (1) I'one of the composition not consistently

maintained : at no point should the composition vary perceptibly

from the level of thought or feeling on which it was begun ;

e.g. avoid jest or slang in a composition whose prevailing note
.. is earnestness. (2) In bad taste.
I.e. — Cliange of capital to small letter.

488 PREPARING THEMES.

MS. — Manuscript unsatisfactory. (1) Form incorrect. (2) Not
neat. (3) Writing illegible.

p. — Bad punctuation.

Pos. — Wrong position. (1) Related words separated: related
words, phrases, and clauses should be brought as close as possible
to the elements which they modify. (2) Important words in
unemphatic positions : an important word or phrase should occupy
an emphatic position, such as the beginning or end of the sen-
tence. (3) Unimportant words in emphatic positions.

pt. — Misuse of participle. (1) Misrelated or unrelated participle :
the grammatical relation of the participle to the rest of the sen-
tence should not be left in" doubt. " Having dared to take up
the cause of the abolitionists, his friends would no longer con-
sort openly with him." Does "having dared" belong with
" friends " or with " him " ? (2) Participle when infinitive or
clause is preferable. (3) Absolute construction needlessly used.

Q. — Quotation at fault. (1) Incorrect quotation. (2) Incorrect use
of quotation marks.

Re. — Repetition to be avoided. Avoid needless repetitions of the
same word or sound.

Rel. — Relative pronoun at fault. ( 1) Coordinate for restrictive, rela-
tive ^ or vice versa. (2) Relative may be omitted: the restrictive
relative, when the object of a verb, may often be omitted with-
out loss of clearness. Thus, " I am the man you seek " is some-
times preferable to " I am the man that you seek."

Sent. — Wrong form of sentence. (1) Periodic for loose sentence,
or vice versa. (^) Monotonous recurrence of the same form of sen-
tence : beware especially of overuse of the " andnsentence," such
as " It was a bright, cheerful day and the birds were singing."

SI. — Slang.

Sp. — Bad spelling. (1) Word misspelled. (2) Improper use or
omission of the apostrophe. (3) Wrong abbreviation, or abbrevia-
tion improperly used. (4) Spell in full. (Also indicated by
drawing a circle around the abbreviation.)

Sub. — Subordination faulty. (1) Ideas of unequal rank made co-
ordinate. Subordinate the expression underscored. (2) Expression
too emphatic. (3) Wrong idea subordinated. Recast the sentence.

CORRECTING THEMES. 439

T. — Tautology. Useless repetition.

Tr. — Transpose.

Ts. — Wrong tense.

U. — Unity violated. The abbreviations s, If? cwhen used with
this sign indicate that unity is lacking in the sentence, para-
graph, or whole composition respectively.

Wd. — Wrong use of a word. (1) Wrong form of word, (2) Word
used in wrong sense. (3) Choose a more exact or fitting term.
(4) Word not in good use.

W. — Weak. (1) Terms too general: use particular and con-
crete expressions to give vigor and interest. (2) Anti-climax.
(8) Hackneyed words or phrases: avoid trite and meaningless
expressions.

1[ — Paragraph.

No T — 1^0 1^0^ paragraph.

8 or <^ — Omit. (Do not enclose in parentheses, but draw a line
through the word.)

A — Something has been omitted.

V or ? — Error, not specified.

'^ — Join the parts of a word, incorrectly separated.

# — More space at point indicated by caret.

/-/ — Hyphen to be supplied.
At beginning or end of the MS. — One of the above marks placed

at the beginning or end of the manuscript warns the writer

against a prevailing fault. The general character of the manu-
script is indicated by the following letters : A, excellent ; B, fair ;

C, poor ; D, very bad, rewrite.

APPENDIX a

THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

1. Unity, Clearness, and Force. — Method of Treatment. —
There are three prime characteristics of every good para-
graph : (1) Unity, or oneness, by means of which the reader
recognizes that some one, particular, significant thing or idea,
and nothing else, is being presented ; (2) Clearness, or in-
telligibility, by means of which he understands what is said
of that one thing or idea ; and (3) Force, or emphasis, by
means of which both the thing or idea and what is said of it
are firmly impressed on his mind. We shall consider each
of these three characteristics, first in its application to the
paragraph as a whole, and secondly in its application to the
component elements of the paragraph ; namely, sentences,
clauses, phrases, and single words. We shall notice, also,
some of the common errors that hinder the attainment of
Unity, Clearness, and Force in writing, and shall state prin-
ciples for guidance.

Unity.

2. Unity of the Paragraph as a Whole. — In a good para-
graph we notice two kinds of unity, — unity of idea and
structure, and unity of tone. Unity of idea and structure
has already been discussed. (See pp. 10, 18, 32, 64.) Unity
of tone requires that the paragraph shall at no point vary
perceptibly from that level of thought or of feeling on
which the paragraph began. A commonplace or colloquial
remark in a paragraph whose prevailing tone is pathetic, a
jest or a piece of slang in a paragraph whose prevailing

440

UNITY. 441

note is spiritual, are often ruinous to the effect that would
otherwise be produced ; and a few words of bad English,
or a badly chosen figure of speech, may work irreparable
mischief in a paragraph which would, but for that, be ex-
cellent in tone. For maintaining unity of tone in a para-
graph, a careful selection of appropriate details (see pp. IS-
IS, 35, 72-81), and of appropriate words and images by
which to express them, is needful. Notice the paragraphs
on pp. 50, 53, 61, 78 , 70 (last), 73 (last), 77 (middle), 90 ^ast),
and 93, 190 ; decide in each case what is the purpose and
point of view ; then decide whether the tone is purely intel-
lectual, emotional, or spiritual ; and, finally, mark the words
which preserve this distinctive tone throughout the para-
graph, and words which in tone fall below the level on which
the paragraph begins. Choice of appropriate words is the
main consideration in preserving unity of tone.

Construct and arrange sentences in a way to give unity of
structure ; choose and arrange words and images in a way to give
unity of tone. Judicious use of blunt idiomatic expressions
should not be mistaken for violation of unity of tone. In
the following selection the italicized words do not fall below
the general tone of the paragraph.

This instinctive belief, confirmed by every other kind of studious
experience, that all serious study must inherently tend toward
isolated specialization, seems to me the first difficulty that besets
earnest pupils who make a mess of their English in the secondary
schools. Clearly enough, a really intelligent teacher can explain
it away. The process may involve vexatiously tedious reiteration
of good sense ; but sue!) reiteration ought to do the business.

In the following sentences the unity of tone is not
maintained : —

The sight oppressed me with sorrow, my heart swelled into my
throat, niy eyes filled with tears, / couldn't stand it any longer, and
/ left. [Better, — I could no longer endure the painful scene, and
turned sadly away.]

442 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

He prays that his friends grieve not at his death. [Better, — will
not grieve.']

My greatest difficulties in writing were organizing and classify-
ing material, formulating outlines, and adhering to said [better,
— the] outlines.

Again last year he was elected to that high office by such a
majority that his opponent did not know which end he stood on.
[Better, — by an overwhelming majority.']

The best side of the boy's nature was aroused by these potent
.stimuli, [Better, — influencea, or incentives.]

The odor of the blossouis, or of the gum, or the height of the
place, makes me dizzy, [omit] or I have become dizzy from something
else. See also page 15 (bottom).

3. Unity of Single Sentences in a Paragraph. — Each sentence
must contribute to the unity of the paragraph; and each
must have a unity of its own, in the number and relation-
ship of its ideas (pp. 56-61), in the subordination of its parts
(pp. 50, 56), and in its form as a whole (pp. 50, 51), The
most common violations of these three requirements are : —

(1) putting too many ideas, or unrelated or insigniiicant

ideas in one sentence,

(2) failing to keep prominent the main subject or idea of

a sentence, or failing to keep subsidiary details
subordinate,

(3) failing to adjust the form of the sentence as a whole

to the requirements of the paragraph.
(1) The parts of each sentence, whatever its length or the
number of its details, should all bear a close relation to one prin-
cipal idea. A long parenthetical statement should be omitted
if not clearly needed. If needed, it should either be organ-
ized into a separate sentence, or be shortened and closely
knit into the subordinate texture of the sentence to which
it belongs.

The following sentences violate these principles : —
The Church and Parliament, always conservative when their
own privileges are threatened (proofs of which fact may be found

UNITY. 443

in every chapter of English History), created a strong opposition
to his claims, — claims which to them appeared arrogant, — so he
pretended, for a time, to favor each, in order to weaken their
hostility ; but, at last, he threw off the mask, and opposed them
openly. [This sentence is correct, but it attempts to say too many
things. There is material in it for three sentences. Omit the
matter in parenthesis, which is sufficiently indicated by the word
always; put periods after arrogant and hostility, and revise the
three sentences thus formed.]

The new Congressman comes of good old New England stock, is
in favor of tariff reform, and at present resides at Washington
Court House, the town which gained an unenviable notoriety last
year on account of the mob attack on the jail. [Omit the last
eighteen words ; they are of no significance in giving an idea of
the new Congressman. Better, — The new Congressman is at
present a resident of Washington Court House. He comes of
good old New England stock (insert in this sentence another item
or two, relative to his ancestry, or stock characteristics). He is in
favor of tariff reform (add to this one or two related particulars,
in order to justify separate sentence-statement).]

The University was organized by Act of Legislature in 1837,
and is a wonderful testimony to the efficiency of government by
the people and for the people. [Better, — The University was
organized by Act of Legislature in 1837. Its rapid growth is a
wonderful testimony, etc.]

(2) Subordinate details should be kept subordinate in form of
statement. Appended phrases and clauses should be re-
duced, to inconspicuous forms or transferred to inconspicuous
positions. A subordinate clause within a subordinate clause
should not be clothed in the same form of words as clauses
of higher rank. Beware of involved clauses.

The following sentences disregard these principles : —

This revolt, conducted by Senara against the Empire of Brazil,
resulted in his being declared President of the Brazilian Republic.
[The important fact is that a Republic was established. Better,
— This revolt, conducted by Senara against the Empire of Brazil,
resulted in the establishment of the Brazilian Republic, of which
Senara was declared President.]

444 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

In case the President should die while in office, a near election
might be an advantage ; for a man living in a " doubtful " state
like New York is frequently chosen Vice President, not because he
is a statesman, and should the Presidency devolve on him, he would
prove incompetent, and hence an early opportunity to select another
would be desirable. [Better, — In case the President should die
while in office, a near election might be an advantage. For the
Vice President, chosen, as he frequently is, not because he is a
statesman, but solely because he lives in a "doubtful" state like
New York, might prove to be an incompetent President. In this
event, an early opportunity to select another would be desirable.]

At present, in the House of Refuge, religious exercises are held
without regard to the classification of the inmates with regard to
the sect of which they are adherents. [Better, — At present, in
the House of Refuge, religious exercises are held without regard
to the sectarian preferences of the inmates.]

You will not fiiid a more courageous President, among those who
have held the office of late years, at least. [Better, — Among all of
our presidents, at least among those who have held the office of
late, you will not find a better example of courage.]

Among the guests is one ichose name is honored by all whose lives
have been made better by his writings and whose presence affords us
the greatest pleasure. [Better, — Among the guests is one whose
name is honored wherever lives have been made better by his writ-
ings. His presence affords us the greatest pleasure.]

In the second panel we are shown at the right a small palm-tree
by whose side is another from behind which three Indians are
timidly peeping at Columbus and his followers who have just
landed. [Better, — In this panel we are shown the landing of
Columbus and his followers. At the right are two palm-trees;
from behind one of them three Indians are timidly peeping.]

(3) Change a loose to a periodic sentence (see p. 25)^ or vice
versa, when the change will result in a closer continuation of
the thought of the preceding sentence. (Even when clearness
is attained by a certain ordering of parts, further rearrange-
ment will often better the unity both of the gejitence and
of the paragraph.)

CLEARNESS. 445

Serfs were compelled to pay for their land and shelter. They
gave a percentage of all they raised and of all the game they might
capture, to their lord, as part payment. [Better, — As part pay-
ment they gave to their lord a percentage both of all they raised
and of all the game they might capture.]

Clearness.

4. Perspicuity, or Clearness of the Paragraph as a Whole. —
To secure perspicuity, observe the laws of sequence and grouping,
see that each thought is stated and illustrated with sufficient ful-
ness, and attend to the connection of related sentences. Each
sentence in a paragraph may be clear in meaning, and yet
the paragraph, as a whole, may lack clearness. This is true
of the paragraph on page 199, and of that at the top of page
200. Clearness of the paragraph, as a whole, is more con-
veniently and accurately called Perspicuity. Perspicuity
depends upon paragraph-structure (pp. 34-72), upon the
order (pp. 22-27) and connection (pp. 54-56) of sentences,
and especially upon the sufficient use of repetition (p. 53),
definition (p. 37), explanation, illustration, and details (pp.
39-42). Proportion (18), sequence and grouping (p. 102),
and careful planning (pp. 137-150) must be attended to by
the writer who would be perspicuous in style.

5. Clearness of Single Sentences in a Paragraph. — As in the
paragraph, so in the sentence, clearness is a problem of se-
quence, grouping, and placing of parts, a problem of point-
ing out relations and connections between parts, of using a
sufficient number of words and of using them accurately.
When a qualifying word, phrase, or clause is not so placed
as to indicate, with certainty, what word or words it
qualifies, we have (1) the squinting construction, or (2) am-
biguity resulting from the separation of words that ought to
be close together. When reference words do not point out
with unerring accuracy the words to which they refer, (3)
the antecedent i? of fen hard to detect, or when found is seen

446 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

to be incommensurate with the reference word. (4) The
words of reference chosen may be too vague and indefinite
to suggest the antecedent, and (5) confusion of ideas may
result from the fact that no antecedent is expressed to which
the words of reference may refer. When words are not em-
ployed in sujficient numbers, a participle may be left with-
out a word in the sentence to which it may attach itself, in
which event we may have (6) a case of unrelated or of mis-
related participle. The participle carries with it several im-
plications of meaning, hence it is sometimes necessary (7) to
expand a participle into a clause in order to indicate the pre-
cise implication of meaning intended. (8) Words have to be
inserted or repeated in form or substance when their omis-
sion would cause ambiguity. (9) An infinitive of purpose,
when used in connection with an infinitive in another func-
tion, requires the insertion of additional distinguishing
words. When words are not used accurately in pointing out
relations between parts of a sentence, lack of clearness is sure
to result. Inaccuracies resulting in obscurity or ambiguity
are most frequent (10) in the use of connectives and (11) rel-
ative pronouns, (12) in the use of number and tense and (13)
in the use of wiU and shalL We shall now consider in order
these thirteen violations of clearness.

(1) Squinting Construction, When a phrase or clause is
so placed that it may equally well be understood to refer to
what precedes it and to what follows it, it is said to squint.
Guard against the squinting construction. Place phrases and
clauses in unambiguous positions.

Consider the following examples : —

He thought his choice of elective studies, at all events, as good as
the average. [Insert (1) was after studies, or (2) at all events after
goody or (3) after choice, or (4) before He, — according to the
meaning.]

A Senate of rich men holding their seats by bribing legislatures,
to tell the truth, will not longer be tolerated. [Better, — (1) will

CLEARNESS. 447

not (to speak plainly) be tolerated any longer ; or (2) holding
their seats (if the truth were known) by bribing, etc.]

A literary education in the minds of some people seems to be un-
necessary. [Place the italicized words first.]

(2) Bring related words as close together as possible.

Avoid the splitting ofpartides, that construction by which
the emphasis is suspended upon a preposition and is de-
layed there until another preposition, referring to the same
word, is passed.

Distinguish between only and alone. Clearness is often
promoted by placing a single-word adverb (as only) imme-
diately before the word or expression that it modifies.

Do not separate the infinitive from its sign to.

When possible, place the preposition immediately before
the word to which it refers. The prepositions that can best
stand at the end of a sentence are to, for, of by, and these
will not bear a separation of more than two or three words
from their idea-word, even in idiomatic expressions.

Be careful to place not only — but also, either — or, both —
and, immediately before the corresponding words to which
they refer.

The following sentences disregard these principles : —

He looked back upon those years spent in wandering about Eu-
rope with regret. [Better, — He looked back with regret upon, etc.]

He speaks on too deep topics to be readily understood by the
ordinary man. [Better, — On topics too deep to be readily under-
stood, etc.]

It is not impossible that future ages may develop a means of
expressing thoughts and feelings to us unknown. [Better, —
Future ages may express their thoughts and feelings by some
means to us unknown.]

During my junior year there was some work in composition in
connection with the work in English that continued through the
whole year. [Better, — During my junior year, in connection
with the work in English, there was some work in composition
that continued, etc.]

448 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

Red Cap would not shake hands with or even allow any one to
touch him that he did not like. [Better, — Red Cap would not
shake hands with any one that he did not like, or even allow such
a person to touch him.]

He derives his power from, and should always hold himself re-
sponsible to, the people. [Better, — He derives his power from the
people, and should always hold himself responsible to them. (Or,
to the people.)']

He only thought he could stay a few days. [Better, — He thought
he could stay only a few days.]

He only [alone'] was able to work the hard problems.

To so act is foolish ! [Better, — So to act, or To act so.]

He put himself on the defensive, not against the whole world,
but against those whom he had found it necessary to be on the
defensive towards. [Better, — towards whom.]

They not only intend to pass another low-tariff bill, but also a
free-silver bill. [Better, — They intend to pass not only another
low-tariff bill, but also a free-silver bill.]

(3) Lack of precision in the antecedent. Be sure that the
antecedent to which a relative refers is clear and unmistakable.

Repeat an idea when the relative alone is not suflBcient for
clearness. Guard against using a relative clause that has
no antecedent.

Singular antecedents require singular pronouns of reference ;
relative and antecedent should agree in number. Words of ref-
erence should denote accurately the number and character
of the antecedent.

A brother of General Sherman, who was sitting near by, corrected
the statement. [Better, — General Sherman*s brother, who, etc., or,
A brother of General Sherman, while the General himself was sitting
near by, etc. — according to the meaning intended.]

Everybody found it best for their [his] health to shun the place.

The injured man with the whole circle of his relations and
friends rose in their [his] fury to wreak vengeance ou the offender.

He whispered that the enemy were all about us, which would
have terrified me under other circumstances. [For which substi-
tute an announcement that, or a method of communication that, — ac-
cording to the meaning.]

CLEARNESS. 449

(4) The following sentences contain anibiguous words of
reference.

Topography in a broader sense may be represented approxi-
mately by hatchings or by washes of color. Very beautiful effects
may be produced in this way, [Better, — by these methods.']

At that time Doctor and Master were synonymous, but when an
initiatory stage of discipline was prescribed, each term became
significant of a certain rank, and was called a step or degree; this
was instituted by Gregory IX. [Better, — this change, or iJiis dis-
tinction^

Composition has always been hard for me, and I must confess
that the encyclopsedia has been in that connection my closest friend.
[Better, — I must confess that in the preparation of my essays the
encyclopsedia, etc.]

There has been a small-pox scare, but it has been stamped out
entirely. At one time it looked as if it would spread over the entire
city, but it is over now. [Substitute for the first it^ " the disease " ;
for it looked as if it, ** we thought the disease " ; for the last tV, " the
scare." See page 54.]

(5) Confusion of ideas is shown in the following sen-
tences : —

A seven-year term would cause the President to make his admin-
istration the best of those loho had held the office. [Better,-^ A
seven-year term would enable the President to make his adminis-
tration better than any former administration.]

Where can you find a more enthusiastic crowd than a body of
college students ? [Better, — Where can you find greater enthu-
siasm than in a crowd of college students ?]

(6) Misrelated and unrelated participle. A participle
usually requires that a word be expressed with which it may
agree. Supply the word when omission would cause am-
biguity.

Having proved compulsory education necessary, it remains [add,
— for US'] to prove it beneficial and expedient.

Accustomed from childhood to hearing incorrect speech, system-
atic drill is needed in the schools. [Accustomed from childhood

450 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

to hearing incorrect speech, pupils need systematic drill in the ose
of good English.]

(7) The use of a clause instead of a participle. Supplant
a paiticiple by a clause when the participle is ambiguous.

Reduced to his last dollar, he felt that he was ready for any
emergency. [Supply before reduced. When he was. If he were.
Whenever he was. Since he was. Though he was, Because he was,
or After he was, according to the meaning intended.]

The skeletons in the vault, exposed to the air, turned suddenly
to dust. [Better, — when they were exposed, or if they were exposed."]

(8) Repeat a word when its omission would cause ambiguity.

Republics are not desirable [insert if, because, since, whenever, or
wherever] unaccompanied by intelligence.

He was generous to all who had aided him to acquire wealth,
and [insert to] his business partner especially.

When he came to his majority, after a long struggle with poverty
and hardship, and [substitute when] more prosperous days began
for him, and [insert when] he found himself influential, he repaid
all those who had helped him.

He said that he meant no offence and [repeat that he] intended
to repair the mischief.

He reported that there were two applicants for the degree of
Master in Pharmacy, [repeat a degree] for which the University
had not yet provided.

For many years we have been troubled with disputes about the
various fisheries, [repeat disputes] which might be in large measure
done away with by the appointment of a commission.

They could do nothing further until the war closed and cooler
counsels prevailed. [Repeat until before cooler, or substitute so for
and, according to the meaning intended.]

(9) Make it plain whether an infinitive is 'coordinate with a
preceding infinitive or is dependent. Distinguish a subjective,
an objective, or a complementary infinitive from an infinitive
of purpose.

He loved to give to the poor, to show them that he was their
friend. [The two offices indicated : He loved to give to the poor in

CLEARNESS. 451

order to show them that he was their friend ; or the meaning may
be, He loved to give to the poor, and, in other ways, to show them
that he was their friend.]

It is not every one who knows just how much tension a brush
needs [insert in order'] to secure good contact.

(10) Faulty use of connectives.

Distinguish different degrees and different kinds of con-
nection in such words as and, so, ivhile, whereas, even, together,
with, since, hence, because, for, etc.

Do not overwork the words and, of, etc.

And cannot be used with who or ivhich unless a correspond-
ing who or which has been used in the same sentence, or has
been clearly implied.

Introduce by similar words, clauses, or phrases which per-
form similar functions.

In the same sentence do not use the word hut in two
functions. Distinguish between the larger and smaller con-
trasts in a sentence by using different conjunctions.

The Church and Parliament created a strong opposition to his
claims ; and [better, — so] he pretended, for a time, to favor each,
in order to weaken their hostility. But at last he threw off the
mask, etc.

In Germany and England the military expenditure goes on as
before, and [better, — while] in Italy the cost of the army has
bankrupted the country.

The snow had been falling for several days, and was now nearly
three feet deep ; hut [better, — nevertheless] Mr, Smith considered
it necessary to go to the Zoological Laboratory.

Landor lacks the power of attraction which we find in writers of
great genius; and [omit and] though a classic in the best sense, he
will never be widely read.

The prospects of the team, against Harvard, are not flattering,
and [add even] against the smaller eastern colleges we cannot
hope for much.

Austria and Prussia and [better, — together with] the whole body
of the German states, fell upon this feeble kingdom.

462 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH,

Hawthorne, the author of ** Twice Told Tales," and who was a
contemporary of Irving, speaks of Irving's humor. [Omit and.^

His was a character of sterling integrity and which deserves to be
imitated. [Better, — His was a character of sterling integrity and
worthy of imitation.] See § 48.

It is often necessary to make a careful examination for the pur-
pose of ascertaining the exact form of the ground and to construct a
map that can be followed. [Better, — in order to ascertain, etc., and
in order to construct^]

They wanted to make the weekly meeting not so much a social
force, but, on the other hand, a means of cultivating oratory.
[Better, — not so much a social force as a means, etc.]

His manners were not acquired, but natural, but [better, — yet^
he never felt awkward in society.

(11) Relative Pronoun at Fault. The relative pronoun
that is restrictive, and introduces a clause that closely
defines, limits, or qualifies the antecedent. A ?/iaf-clause
affects the antecedent as an adjective would affect the
antecedent. Who and which are coordinating relatives, and
introduce, not a modifying thought, but an additional
thought of equal or greater importance. Who is equiva-
lent to a conjunction plus a personal pronoun, and may be
translated by the words and he, and they, though he, though
.they, for he, since they, etc., which words may often be used,
with a gain to clearness, instead of who. Which is equiva-
lent to a conjunction plus the word it, this, these, those, and
may be translated by the words and this, and it, and these,
a fact that, a circumstance that, etc., which words may often
be used, with a gain to clearness, instead of which. Who
and which are sometimes used restrictively, without loss
of clearness, instead of the strictly correct that (1) when
the use of that would make a harsh combination, (2) when
the word that has already been used in another function
in the same sentence, and (3) when the use of that would
throw a preposition to the end of the sentence.

The aid of punctuation may be called in to distinguish

CLMAitJSfESS. 463

restrictive from coordinative who or lohich. Since a comma
is usually inserted before a coordinate relative, the omission
of punctuation before ivho or which will give to the clause
a restrictive force.

He asked me who [whom is correct] I expected.

Whom [who is correct] do you think would wear such a
thing?

Nothing which [better, — that] could add to their comfort was
forgotten.

He gave up his law practice that [better, — ivhich] he had built
up only after years of hard work.

The society has twenty members that [or who] intend to make
this their life-work. (Who would imply a total membership of
but twenty. That implies a larger membership.)

There is a saloon next door that [or which] is a nuisance. (That
implies that the saloon is a nuisance. Which implies that its
being next door is a nuisance.)

That man was the first that sato [better, — to see] what was
needed.

This is the town that you mentioned. [Better, — This is the
town you mentioned.]

(12) Lack of concord in number or tense.

In dependent clauses and infinitives reckon the tense rela-
tively to the tense of the principal verb.

According to the usage of most good writers, general
truths require the present tense, irrespective of the tense of
the principal verb.

Consistency in the tenses of the verbs of a sentence
should be maintained throughout.

The verb should agree with its subject in number.

No one knew his age, but it tvould not have been difficult to have
guessed it. [Corrected : to guess it.]

He said that honesty teas [better, — is] the best policy.

As civilization advanced, they began to feel that the sweetest
thing man possessed [better, — possesses] is liberty.

He had never put aside the old and narrow idea that, higher
education was [better, — is] for men alone.

464 THE BHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

Sometimes we have been attracted by the melodies that have
floated towards us, and drew near to discover the source. [Better,
— have drawn near."]

He came to the hill, and, watching his chance, slyly creeps near
the game; then he raised hia gun. [Either, came, crept, raised; or,
comes, creeps, raises,"]

Each of these men were great financiers. [Both were, etc. ; or,
Each was a great financier.']

There are \is] one of these rooms on each corner.

The beautiful location of the school, together with its many his-
torical associations, make [should be makes] it a delightful place
to visit.

Thus, through his avarice, his honor as well as his property and
business enterprises were [should be was] gone.

The number of coeducational colleges have [should be has] in-
creased.

(13) Will, Shall, Would, Should.

(a) In the simple future, shall is used in the first person,
and will in the second and third persons ; thus, /, or we, shall
enjoy reading the book, and You, he, or they will enjoy reading
the book.

(b) In sentences expressing determination, will is used in
the first person, and shall in the second and third persons ;
thus, /, or we, will obey, and You, he, or they shall obey.

(c) In questions, the same distinction between shall and
will as expressing simple futurity or determination is seen in
the following : Shall I, or we ? (simple future, or equiva-
lent to Do you wish me or us to?)-, Will I? (ironical);
Shall you subscribe ? (mere information desired) ; Will you
subscribe ? (I want you to) ; Shall he or they ? (Do you wish
him or them to ?) ; Will he or they f (mere information
desired).

(d) In secondary clauses the reporter uses will, if the
speaker used or would have used ivill; shall if the speaker
used or would have used shall. Thus : Speaker, — / shall
enjoy reading the book ; Keporter, — He says he shall enjoy

FORCIC. 465

reading the book ; Speaker, — T mil not allow it; Reporter,
— He says he will not aUoio it ; Speaker, — You (or they) shall
seek in vain for it; Reporter, — He says you (or they) shall
seek, etc.

(e) Should corresponds to shall, and would to will, follow-
ing corresponding rules. Thus, in reporting the sentences
just given, the correct form would be. He said he should en-
joy reading the book. He said he would not allow it, He
said you (or they) should seek in vain for it.

(J) In conditional clauses exceptional care is needed,
though the same distinctions are maintained.

He tells me that he will be twenty-one years old next month.
[No determination. Will should be shalW]

We would be pleased to have you call. [^Should is correct.
Would, implying determination to be pleased, is impolite as well
as incorrect.]

If he should come to-morrow, would you be surprised ? [^Should
is correct.]

What would we do with Samoa if we would succeed in annexing
it? [Use should in both cases.]

Force.

6. Gauge force of expression by force of thought. Avoid
bombast and fine writing. Depend for force mainly upon
paragraph structure, order and brevity of sentences, and
condensation. Avoid monotony by mingling sentences of
various lengths and of various kinds.

Force of the Paragraph as a Whole. — Each paragraph car-
ries with it a certain weight and value for the reader. This
weight and value is due primarily to the character of the
thought and emotion with which the paragraph is freighted ;
but, since thought and emotion gain or loge according to the
way in which they are presented, the writer must take into
account style as an element of force. The style must
correspond to the character of the thought and -emotion.

456 THE RHETOmC OF THE PABAGRAPH.

Some thoughts and emotions are by nature less forcible
than others ; the attempt to overcharge with force a weak
or commonplace thought leads to bombast. A subject
not in itself picturesque or capable of exciting emotion
will not be made so by presenting it in highly figurative
or impassioned diction. The character of the thought as
pathetic, humorous, witty, ironical, or picturesque, will
determine the language to be used in expressing it. Some
writers mistake effect for force, and in striving after effect
employ big words and high-sounding phrases, or are guilty
of overniceness in expression (" fine writing "), forgetting
that plain statement is nearly always the most forcible. In
general, whatever contributes to Unity and Clearness con-
tributes to Force, but a paragraph already unified and clear
may sometimes be improved in respect of Force : —

(1) by a change of order in the sentences (see pp. 24-27),

(2) by the addition of particulars and applications (see

pp. 35, 44),

(3) by parallel construction and repetition (see pp. 51-54),

(4) by omission of connectives (see p. 54), and

(5) by condensing and shortening sentences (see p. 105,

bottom).
A common violation of the principle of Force is overuse
of one kind of sentence. The student should guard against
this fault by familiarizing himself with the different kinds,
and by learning the advantage of each. Sentences are some-
times classified as short sentences and long sentences, terms
which do not need to be defined ; and sometimes as loose,
periodic, and balanced. Each has its peculiar uses. . Short
sentences arrest the attention more sharply than long sen-
tences; hence they may be used for marking transitions,
for summarizing, and for announcing ideas that are to be
developed in succeeding sentences. Short sentences may
also be used to give quickness of movement and abrupt
emphasis. (See the selections on pp. 110, 121 (last), 126

FORCE. 457

(middle), and 234. Notice the different use which is made
of the short sentence in each selection.) Long sentences
are useful to exhibit the relation of a principal idea to
several subordinate ideas within a single group, or to show
connectedly the development of an idea in its details.
Long sentences are often necessary to secure effects of
rhythm, antithesis, and climax. Employed in considerable
numbers, they often give an impression of dignity and
grace. (See the selections on pp. 68, 204 (d), 235 (c), 240 (e) ;
and notice the use which is made of the long sentence in
each selection.)

According to the second classification, sentences are
loose, periodic, or balanced. A loose sentence is one in
which the sense is fairly complete at one or more points
before the end. The following is an example : —

He expresses what all feel, but all cannot say ; (1) and his say-
ings pass into proverbs among his people, (2) and his phrases
become household words and idioms of their daily speech, (3) which
is tessellated with the rich fragments of his language, (4) as we see
in foreign lands the marbles of Roman grandeur worked into the
walls and pavements of modern palaces.

If interrupted at any one of the points indicated by num-
bers, this sentence would still be fairly complete in sense.
Loose sentences resemble in structure those which we use
in conversation ; hence they give an impression of ease and
naturalness. (See the selections on pp. 110 (last), 113, 151
(last), and 239 (d).)

A periodic sentence is one which seems incomplete when
interrupted at any point before the close. Consider the
structure of the following sentence : —

A language in the condition in which ours is at present, when
thousands of eyes are jealously watching its integrity, and a
thousand pens are ready to be drawn, and dyed deep in ink, to
challenge and oppose the introduction into it of any corrupt form|

458 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

of any new and uncalled-for element, can, of course, undergo only
the slowest and the least essential alteration.

The meaning of this sentence is suspended until the very
end. Interrupted at any point before the end, it is gram-
matically incomplete. Periodic sentences are used to main-
tain interest and to give to style an impression of dignity
and completeness. (See the selections on pp. 163 (last), 178
(middle), 194 (&), 222 (6)).

A balanced sentence is one in which different parts are
made similar in form in order to bring out parallelism in
meaning. (See pp. 51, 53.) The foil owing is an example : —

On the third of November, 1640, a day to be long remembered,
met that great Parliament, destined to every extreme of fortune,
to empire and to servitude, to glory and to contempt ; at one time
the sovereign of its sovereign, at another time the servant of its
servants.

Sentences of this type are used to give force and point to
contrasted ideas. In form they are more impressive than
other kinds of sentences, and consequently are more liable
to abuse. A safe rule is to use the balanced sentence only
when it is demanded by a parallelism in the thought.

To use in successive paragraphs one length or one type
of sentences results in feebleness and monotony of style.
Overuse of the short sentence leads to scrappiness ; of the
long sentence, to diffuseness or obscurity. Loose sentences
are apt to be slovenly. Periodic sentences, especially if
long, require sustained attention and soon weary. A para-
graph composed solely of balanced sentences is almost
unreadable. The principle of Force requires a judicious
mingling of these various kinds. If the student inclines to
write short sentences, let him now and then introduce a
moderately long one. If he inclines to write long sentences,
let him introduce among them sentences that are brief and
pointed. A succession of periods should be interrupted by

FORCE. 459

looser forms, and in a succession of loose sentences a sus-
pended sentence should now and then appear.

7. Force of Single Sentences in a Paragraph. — Force in
the sentence, as in the paragraph, presents two kinds of
problems, — problems of position and structure of parts,
and problems of choice among words, sounds, and figures.
(1) Important words should be so placed that the reader
cannot help emphasizing them. (2) Unimportant words
should be so placed as to refuse emphasis when read. Em-
phasis is secured to a word, phrase, or clause by placing it
out of its usual position in the sentence. The positions most
naturally emphatic in the sentence are at the end and at
the beginning. There is in every good sentence one point
at which the emphasis culminates ; that point should be
occupied by the most important expression. But emphasis
must be varied, or (3) we have monotony of structure.
When (4) an unexpected change of construction is made,
or (5) awkward constructions are introduced, there is loss
of force and of emphasis. (6) Since the end of the sen-
tence is a naturally strong position, it should not be surren-
dered to an unimportant phrase or clause. (7) Construc-
tions borrowed from another language, by violating the
English word-order, dissipate or divert the emphasis and
weaken the force of the sentence. (8) Condensation of
clauses to phrases, or of phrases to single words, will often
strengthen a sentence. Weakness results when (9) the
terms employed are too general, when (10) unimportant
words are repeated, when (11) there is an unintended jingle
of sounds or a queer combination of sounds. There are,
also, (12) expressions that are weak in themselves, from
having been used loosely or indefinitely for a long time.
(13) Finally, faulty figures are a source of weakness. We
shall take up in order these thirteen violations of Force
requirementa.

460 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

(1) Important words should occupy emphatic positions. Em-
phasis is sometimes secured by inversion. (See page 50.)
Emphasis is sometimes gained by changing a declarative to
an exclamatory or an interrogative sentence.

Washington encamped for the winter, with the remnant of his
army, in a small valley near the city in which his enemies swarmed ;
but the w^eather was so cold that he was in no danger of attack.
[Better, — The small valley in which Washington with the rem-
nant of his army encamped for the winter, was near the city in
which his enemies swarmed ; but the weather, etc.]

This is not true of any other country. [Better, — Of no other
country is this true.]

(2) Lack of emphasis on important words : —

It is remarkable that although Washington had that excessive
pride in his high position which is shown in his portrait, he always
evinced the deepest interest in the humblest of his soldiers. [Better,
— It is remarkable that, although Washington's pride in his high
position, as shown in his portrait, was excessive, he always evinced,
etc.]

Of course in America, where the names college and university
are applied indifferently to the same institution, the term degree
has lost its exactness and is but a seeming parallel to the term as
used originally in the older universities of Europe. [Better, —
And its identity with the term as used originally in the older uni-
versities of Europe is only apparent.]

We see frankness and honesty in this face. [Better, — What we
see in this face is frankness and honesty.]

His fall was sad. [Better, — How sad his fall !]

This will not be denied. [Better, — Will any one deny this?]

(3) Monotonous Recurrence of the Same St^nicture, Vary
the emphasis by varying the structure.

That Washington was a great general, we know ; that he was
an honest statesman, we are certain ; that he was never moved by
selfish ambition, history proves. [Better, — We know that Wash-
ington was a great general ; tha^t be was an honest statesman, wq

FORCE. 461

are certain ; and history proves that he was never moved by selfish
ambition.]

(4) Unexpected change of construction. In similar parts of
the sentence, use the same construction.

The Indians make signals by covering the fire until a sufficient
quantity of smoke is accumulated, and it is then allowed to ascend
in short puffs. [Better, — And then allowing it to ascend, etc.]

The young man's fists were impressing his arguments on the
radiator more forcibly perhaps than he will ever be able to impress
them in a less literal sense. [Better, — than he will ever be able
to impress them on the public]

She saw them striving to find the unknown and that they never
found it. [Better, — hut never finding tV.]

The women's parlors are admirably adapted for social gather-
ings as well as a retreat for the weary. [Better, — They are also
a retreat for the weary.]

We know of his irreproachable character and that he is not
capable of such a deed. [Better, — We know that his character
is irreproachable and that he is not capable of such a deed.]

He saw his danger and that another step would be fatal. [Bet-
ter, — He saw that his position was dangerous and that, etc. ; or.
He saw his danger and the fatality of another step.]

(5) Awkward constructioiis are shown in the following
sentences : —

The building is of brownstone, having been erected two years
ago. [Better, — The building is of brownstone and was erected
two years ago.]

There is no need of discussing the question of how it happened.
[Better, — There is no need of discussing how it happened.]

I came in contact with creatures whose existence, as possible,
had never occurred to me. [Better, — creatures the possibility of
whose existence, etc.]

The air becomes vitiated and without any life-giving qualities.
[Better, — and loses its life-giving qualities.]

The desks follow the shape of the wall, thus causing them to
assume the form of concentric curves. [Better, — assuming the
form of concentric curves.]

462 THE hhetoric of the paragraph.

(6) Avoid weak or abrupt endings. An important thought
at the close of a sentence requires a volume of sound corre-
sponding to the sense.

The change would be of the greatest value to all students,
that is, to those who regularly study on Sunday, at lecutt,
[Better, — The change would be of the greatest value to all
students, and especially to those who regularly study on Sun-
day.]

Let those who are ambitious to win place or power, worry.
[Better, — Let those worry who, etc.]

(7) A construction borrowed from another language should
be changed to the natural wordrorder of English.

Under the then existing circumstances, nothing could be
done. [Better, — Under the circumstances then existing, noth-
ing could be done.]

The too great distance of the proposed field from the cam-
pus is another objection. An admittedly by far better location
is on High Street. [Better, — The proposed field is too far from
the campus. It is admitted that High Street would afford a
much better location.]

We ran the entire gamut of our at that time possibilities.
[Omit at that time.']

He, when he had put a white tie on, looked around for his
gloves. [Better, — After putting on a white tie, he looked around
for his gloves.]

(8) Force is gained by cutting out all unnecessary words.
The imperative and the participle are means of condensation.

The Church and Parliament were opposed to his claims and
created a strong opposition. [Better, — The Church and Parlia-
ment created a strong opposition to his claims.]

Two green eyes glared at him through the darkness and came
nearer and nearer, and when he was about to call for help he
found that it was only a cat. [Better, — Two green eyes glared
at him through the darkness ; nearer and nearer they came ; he
was about to call for help when he found that it was only a
cat.]

FORCE. 463

The twenty-eight hundred students assembled [omit] united in
giving the University yell.

If you will only coddle him, he will treat you well. [Better, —
Coddle him and he, etc.]

When he had done the deed, he disappeared. [Better, — The
deed done, he disappeared.]

(9) For strength use particular terms instead of general
terms.

An epidemic existed in the interior ; the inhabitants were dying
in large numbers. [Better, — An epidemic was raging in the
interior; the people were dying by thousands.]

(10) Avoid needless repetitions of the same word and dose
repetitions of the same sound.

Avoid a succession of monosyllables.

Avoid harsh or abrupt endings.

His person and manner were ungracious enough, so that he pre*
vailed only by strength of his reason, which was enforced with
confidence enough.

Near by are some shells thrown up by the waves in some storm.

It is only comparative/^ recent/^ that it has been distinct/y seen
by astronomers.

Certain characteristics are certain to offend.

Zcrting our eyes fall once more to the surface of the water, let
us look more carefully at the scene.

His life went on on the peaceful lines which he had laid down
for himself.

A ^imi^le-hearted man with nothing to influence other men with
but goodness of heart.

(11) Euphony is violated in the following sentences: —
Reca// all the thrilling incidents of that day. [Better, — Recol-
lect, etc.]

He was proud of the learning he had got. [Better, — which he
had acquired."]

The second tumbril empties and moves off ; the third comes up.
[Better, ^- approaches,]

Such changing scenes. [Better, — Such varying scenes.]

464 THE RHETORIC OF THE PARAGRAPH.

(12) A verb implymg action is more forcible than a verb
passive in sense.

Avoid trite and meaningless expressions, like — If I may
be allowed to use the figure; Situated as it is, on Lake
Michigan, etc. ; very nice ; very happy ; as it were ; I
think ; that is to say ; this subject is very important ; the
end is not yet ; suffice it to say.

Just beyond the laboratory is a storeroom, so to speak [omit],
where chemicals and apparatus are kept.

The Library is the best place to be found [omit] for collecting
class-taxes.

He seemed at times to mock at reason, defy judgment, and lack
[better, — break through] all restraint.

Near the palace is [better, — tatters'] the hovel.

(13) Beware of the mixed metaphor and the anticlimax. Do

not use a figure unless it brings strength to the sentence.

He would have given his all — life itself, his hopes, his prospects
— to blot out that deed. [Anticlimax. Put life itself after pros-
pect^.]

The wildest excitement prevailed, and at two o'clock the hungry
eyes of the sailors feasted once more upon dry land. [Mixed meta-
phor.]

In our Teachers' Association will be found many of the wheel
horses who teach the young idea how to shoot.

Life's sunset is approaching. [Better, — Life's sun is setting.]

The plan of representing the character of the surface by contour
lines has its advantages and disadvantages and, like the Nebular
Theory [omit], has many supporters.

The teacher should be all that is noble and pure. The children,
those blossoms of love [omit], are constantly looking to the teacher
for guidance.

INDEX.

[The Numbers refer to the Pages of the Text.]

Abstract, 167-159.

AccideDt in narrative, 128.

Agrriculture, essay subjects in, 417.

Allen, James Lane, 333.

Ambifiruity, 450.

Amplifyingr paragrraphs, 89-91.

Analysis, 137, 167.

rhetorical, 382.
Anticlimax, 464.
Antithesis, 38.
A posteriori argrument, 180.
Applying: a principle, 44, 151.
A priori argument, 179.
Argrumentation, 91, 165-185.
Argrumentative type, 42, 62.
Arnold, Matthew, 63, 87, 134, 266.
Art of composition, 1.
Astronomy, essay subjects in, 416.
Atlantic, 113, 359.
Audience, 17, 170, 172.
Authority, 182.

Bacon, Francis, 40.

Bagrehot, Walter, 48, 265.

Bain, Alexander, 58.

Balanced sentences, 38, 61, 458.

Baltimore American, 204.

Barrie, James M., 125.

Begrgringr the question, 184.

Benson, A. C, 95, 341, 342.

Besant, Walter, 6.

Birrell, A., 22.

Bolingrbroke, 90.

Bombast, 455.

Book reviews, 164.

Borrbw, George, 118,120,131,250,

251, 368.
Brackett, William, 301.
Brief-making, 171, 315, 321.
Bryce, James, 291, 358.
Burke, Edmund, 48, 52, 64, 297.
Burroughs, John, 333.
But, 58, 83.

Capitalization, rules for, 430.
Carlisle, John G., 325.
Carlyle, Thomas, 27, 79, 149.
Causes and results, 71, 147, 151.

169.
Center of interest, 124.

Century, 47.
Characters, 127.
Character sketches, 80.
Chicago Graphic, 213.
Circumstantial evidence, 181.
Clarke, James F., 88.
Classics, essay subjects in, 404.
Classification, 136, 137, 138, 141.

142, 151.
Clay, Henry, 47.
Clayton, H.H., 239.
Clearness of sentence, 445, 456.
Climax. 116, 124, 170.
Coherence, 22.
Comparison, 39, 151.
Complication of plot, 122.
Compositions, whole, 91-186.
Comprehensive outline, 102.
Concessions, 54.
Concluding paragraphs, 83, 87,

126.
Conditions, 64.
Connectives, 451.
Conrad, Joseph, 93, 340,
Contemporary Review, 264.
Contiguity, 99, 148.
Contrary, 37.

Contrast, 54, 58, 99, 147, 151.
Conversation, 131.
Correction marks, 422, 436-439.
Criticism, 159.
Curtis, Q. W., 68.

Deductive reasoning, 176.
Deductive type, 63, 66.
Definition, 37, 136, 137, 138,

167.
Definitive essay, 140, 151.

paragraph, 6().

statements, 39.
De Quincey. Thomas, 15, 56, 58,

69, 88, 337, 366.
Description, 92-112, 130, 153.

preliminaries to, 94.
Descriptive paragraphs, 72.

sketches, 76.
Details, 35, 60, 89, 94, 101.
Developing the theme, 34-46.
Dialogue, 131.
Dickens, Charles, 78.

466

INDEX.

References are to pages.

Didactic essay, 164.
Digrression, 10, 131.
Dilemma, 183.
Directive parafirraphs, 88.
Discourse, unit of, 5.
Disentanglement of plot, 122.
Division, logical, 141.
Divisions, thought, 4.
Drummond, Henry, 37.
Dry den, John, 11.

Earle, John, 18.

Echo, 51.

Economics, essay subjects in.

Economy, 19.

Editing, 421.

Education, essay subjects in, 412.

Educational Review, 267.

Effects, 93, 96, 102, 103, 105, 106,

108, 110, 241.
EUot, Georgre, 121.
Emerson, R. V., 1, 20, 337.
Emphasis, 58-60, 101.
Enforcement, 44, 87, 89, 151.
Ensineeringr, essay subjects in,

418.
Engrineeriner News, 282.
English lansruaere and litera.

ture, essay subjects in, 400.
Entangrlement of plot, 122.
Episodes, 131.
Essays, 91-185.

definitive, 140, 151.

didactic, 164.

familiar, 164.

inductive, 151.
Essay subjects, classified list of,

400.
Euphony, 463.

Evidence, circumstantial, 181.
Examples, 38, 40, 90, 182.
Expert testimony, 182.
Explanation, 159.
Explicit reference, 54, 8:1
Exposition, 91, 123, 1,33-165.
Expository paragrraphs, 68, 71^
Expository type, 62.

"Facts." 169,181.
Familiar essay, 164.
Farrar, Frederic W., 36.
Ferree, Barr, 10.
Fiske, John, 9, 17.
Flaws in reasoningr, 166-184*
For, 59.
Force, 456.

Forestry, essay subjects in, 417.
Freeman, Edward A., 335.
Froude, James A., 280.
Fundamental imagre, 105.

aald6s, 332.

Gardiner, Samuel R., 86.
Generalized description,133, 153.
Generalized narration, 153.
Green, John R., 73, 80.
Grote, Georgre, 51.
Groupingr, 102, 147.

Hale, B. E., 334.

Hamerton, P. G., 5, 338.

HamUton, Sir Wm., 39, 69.

Harrison, F., 42.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 110, 346.

Hence, 172.

Higrgrinson, Thomas W., 369.

Hlstoty. essay subjects in, 405.

Horticulture, essay subjects in,

Howeils, W. D., 110, 239, 335, 342.
Huxley, Thomas H., 39, 136, 334.

Illustration, 39, 70.
Imagres, 92, 93, 106, 110.

fundamental, 105.
Impressions, 105, 108.
Incident, paragraphs of, 74.
Indication of effects, 93, 96, 102,

103, 105, 106, 108, 110, 241.
Inductive essay, 151.
Inductive reasoning;, 174.
Inductive type, 64, 66.
Inferences, 169, 176.
Infinitive, 450.
Interpretation, 159.
Introductory paragrraphs, 83, 86.
Introductory sentences, 47.
Inversion, 50.
Isolated paragraph, 8, 27.
It, 54.

James, Henry, 76, 77.
James, William, 65.
Jefferies, Richard, 111, 339, 343.
Jessup, 207.
Johnson, Samuel, 24.

Kingr, C, 262.

Khigrsley, 38, 240, 260, 369.

Kipling, Rudyard, 77. 104.

Lanib, Charles, 49.
Laws of the paragrraph, 10-27.
Lecky, W. E. H., 352.
Lettsom, W. N., 240.

INDEX.

467

References are to pages.

Logrical defiiiition, 138.

di vision, 141.

type, 62.
London Spectator, 30, 289.
Long: sentences, 457.
Loose sentences, 457.
Lowell, J. R., 60, 68, 87.

Macaulay, T. B., 14, 16, 21, 23, 39,
67, 69, CO, 61, 84, 89, 154, 178,
185, 299, 313.

McCarthy, Justin, 2.

Mann, Horace, 30.

Marshall, John, 349, 362, 364.

Mass, 18, 19.

Mathematics, essay subjects in,
416.

Mazzini, Joseph, 13.

Mead, 43, 45, 68, 72.

Means of developing, 34-49.

Metaphor, mixed, 464.

Method, 22-24, 85, 91, 94, 99, 150,
151, 171.

Misrelated participle, 449.

Modem langruagres and litera-
tures, essay subjects in, 403.

Monotony, 38.

Morison, J. Cotter, 4.

Morley, John, 14.

Motives, 129.

Movement in narrative, 130.

Murray, J. C, 268.

Narration, 112-133, 153.
Narrative, accident in, 128.

surprise in, 128.
Narrative paragrraphs, 72.
New York Evangrelist, 362.
New York Evening Post, 69.
New York Press, 31.
New York Sun, 267.
New York Tribime, 311.
Non sequitur, 177.
Note-takinfiT, 168.

Oastler, 234.

Objections, meeting, 169, 170, 176-

183.
Observation, 94.
Obstacle, 120, 121.
Order, 22-24, 86, 91, 94, 99, 102, 150,

151, 171.
Orgranic structure, 2.
Outline, comprehensive, 102.
Outlining:, 2-8,99, 141-150, 171-174,

274-279, 301, 316-321.
Outlook, 288.

Paragrraph, definitive, 66.

laws of, 10-27.

rhetoric of, 440-464.

structure, types of, 62-81.

subject, 27.

theme, 28.

title, 28.

unity, 10, 113, 440.
Paragrraphs, amplifying, 89-91.

concluding, 83, 87, 126.

of incident, 74.

introductory, 83, 86.

isolated, 8, 27.

related, 82, 83.

transitional, 88.
Parallel construction, 51.
Paraphrase, 166, 157.
Participle, misrelated, 449.
Particulars and details, 35, 60.
Pater, Walter, 74, 235, 341.
Periodic sentences, 457.
Perspicuity, 445.
Persuasion, 92.
Plot, 119, 122.
Point of view, 96.
Points at issue, 170.
Politics, essay subjects in, 405.
Popular Science Monthly, 107.
Portrait sketches, 78.
Position of words, 460, 462.
Powderly, T. V., 205.
Preliminaries to description, 94.
PresTimption, 184.
Principle, applying a, 44, 161.
Process of exposition, 137.
Prominence, 68, 69, 99.
Pronouns, 64, 452.
Proof-readins, 421.
Proofs, 168, 169-182.
Proportion, 18.
Proposition. 166.
Prospective reference, 54, 83, 88
Proximity, 99, 148.
Punctuation, 56, 430.

Reading: and reflection. 167.
Becuiingr of sig:ns, 181.
Reading:, supplementary, 393.
Reasoning:, 62-^, 174-176.

deductive, 176.

flaws in, 166-184.

inductive, 174.
Reasons, presenting, 42.
Reductio ad absurdum, 186.
Reference books, list of, 397.
Reference, explicit, 54, 83.

prospective, 64, 83, 88.

468

INDEX.

References are to pages.

Referenoe words, 54, 8.S.

Refutation, 169, 170. 17(>-1M.

Belated paragraphs, 82, 83.

Repetition, 29, 53, 87, 450.

Beportingr, 421.

Retrospective reference, 54, 83,
88.

Rhetorical analysis, 382.

Rhetoric of the paragraph, 382.

Richards, Theodore, 279.

Rnskln, John, 31, 38, 47, 61, 63, 70,
72, 99, 100, 103, 133, 142, 160,
161, 162, 163, 264, 336, 361.

Rxissell, W. C, 102, 109, 240, 242.

Sciences, essay subjects in, 414.
Scott, Walter, 97, 103, 122, 123, 294.
Selection, 13, 101, 168.
Sentences, 50, 56, 68, 69, 60.

balanced, 38, 51, 468.

introductory, 47.

long, 457.

loose, 457.

periodic, 457.

short, 456.

summarizing, 48.

transitional, 47.
Sentence structTire, modification

of, 49-61.
Sentence unity. 442.
Sequence, 22, 102, 114.
Setting, 118.
Shairp, John C, 90.
Shakespeare, 241.
Shauck, 285.

Shelley, Percy B., 88, 236.
Short sentences, 456.
Signs, 181.
Sketches, 76, 78, 80.
Solution of plot, 122.
Specific instances, 40, 68, 161, 182.
Speeches, 386.

Spelling Reform Circular, 329.
Spencer, Herbert, 19, (34, 268.
Squinting construction, 446.
Statements, definitive, 39.
Stedman, B. C. , 84.
Stephen, Leslie, 351.
Stevenson, R. L., 36, 74, 76, 153,

340.
Stories, 383-386.
Structure, organic, 2.
Subject of paragraph, 27.
Subordination, 64, 58, 60, 443.
Suggestive expressions, 110.
Summarizing sentences, 48.
Supplementary reading, 393.

Surprise in narrative, 128.
Suspense, 129.

Swinburne, Algernon C, 38.
Syllogism, 176, 179.
Synonyms, use of, 63.

Testimony, expert, 182.
Testing proofs, 169.
Thackeray, Wm. M., 294.
Theme of paragraph, 28.

means of developing, 34-46.
Themes, directions for preparing,

433.
"Theory of the case," 181.
Therefore, 172.
Thompson, Maurice, 70.
Thoreau, Henry D., 32, 40.
Thought-divisions, 4.
Title of paragraph, 28.
Topic statement. 28-34.
Tourg^e, A. W., 105.
Transitional paragraphs, 88.
Transitional sentences, 47.
Traveler's point of view, 97.
Trevelyan, G. O., 313.
Turning-point, 126.
Tyndall, John, 146, 366.
Type, deductive, 63, 66.

inductive, 64, 66.

logical, 62.
Types of paragraph structure,

62-81.
Types of whole composition,
91-185.

Unit of discourse, 5.

Unity of paragraph, 10, 96, 110,

113, 114, 440,
Unity of sentence, 442.

Variety, 24.

Vincent, Prank, 98, 236.

Walker, Francis A., 63.
Wallace, Alfred R., 355.
Warner, CD., 296.
Webster, Daniel, 23.
Wendell, Barrett, 18, 19.
White, Gilbert, 95.
Whitney, Wm. D., 324.
Whittler, John G., 280.
Who, which, that, 462.
Will, shall, 454.
Wolseley, Lord, 29.
Word-order, 462.
Words of reference, 64, 83.
Would, should, 464.

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