possible way, paragraphing the dialogue skilfully, and inserting any touches of personal description that will increase the effect of the story. Be not too long in coming to the point, nor yet reveal the point by any hint before the proper time. Give the theme a title which will arouse curiosity, but not reveal too much.

Read aloud the following passages:

1. Far up in the mountains, miles from any settlement, we live the healthful life of a lumber camp, working from starlight to starlight; breathing the mountain-air, keen with the frosty vigor of autumn, and fragrant of pine and hemlock; eating ravenously the plain, well-cooked food which is served to us, now in the camp and now on the mountain-side, where we sit among the newly stripped logs; sleeping deeply at night in closely crowded beds; in the cabin-loft, where the wind sweeps freely from end to end through the gaping chinks between the logs, and where on rising, we sometimes slip out of bed upon a carpeting of snow. — WYCKOFF: The Workers.

2. In an old biography of Chief Justice Marshall there is an anecdote which gives a significant hint of the discipline to which young people were subject in that earlier day.

Several of the great jurist's nieces were in the habit of visiting him, and as they were young and attractive, the house became a rendezvous for the leading young men of the city during the afternoons. Judge Marshall's black majordomo, old Uncle Joseph, held a tight rein upon these visitors. Every day at four o'clock he would appear at the door of the drawing-room in spotless livery, and with a profound bow would announce :

"Ladies, his honor, the chief justice, has retired to his room to prepare for dinner.

"Gentlemen, dinner will be served at half past four o'clock. It is now four. His honor will be pleased if you will remain, and covers have been laid for you at the table. If you cannot remain, will you permit the young ladies to retire to prepare for the meal?"

The gentlemen usually took their leave, and the ladies retired in an ill humor; but any remonstrance with Joseph was only answered by: "It is the rule of the house. Young folks must be kept within bounds.". Youth's Companion.

The

3. When man abides in tents, after the manner of the early patriarchs, the face of the world is renewed. The vagaries of the clouds become significant. You watch the sky with a lover's look, eager to know whether it will smile or frown. When you lie at night upon your bed of boughs and hear the rain pattering on the canvas close above your head, you wonder whether it is a long storm or only a shower.

The rising wind shakes the tent-flaps. Are the pegs well driven down and the cords firmly fastened? You fall asleep again and wake later, to hear the rain drumming still more loudly on the tight cloth, and the big breeze snoring through the forest, and the waves plunging along the beach. A stormy day? Well, you must cut plenty of wood and keep the camp-fire glowing, for it will be hard to start it up again if you let it get too low. There is little use in fishing or hunting in such a storm. But there is plenty to do in the camp: guns to be cleaned, tackle to be put in order, clothes to be mended, a good story of adventure to be read, a belated letter to be written to some poor wretch in a comfortable house, a game of hearts or cribbage to be played, or a campaign to be planned for the return of fair weather. The tent

is perfectly dry, and luckily it is pitched with the side to the lake, so that you get the pleasant heat of the fire without the unendurable smoke. A little trench dug around it carries off the surplus water. Cooking in the rain has its disadvantages. But how good the supper tastes when it is served up on a tin plate, with an empty box for a table and a roll of blankets at the foot of the bed for a seat! - HENRY VAN DYKE: Fisherman's Luck.

The passages give what may be called generalized narrative. Each deals with a type or class of events. Each tells what usually happened or happens in certain circumstances.

EXERCISE 112. (Theme.) Write a generalized narrative, giving from your own experience or from that of another an account of some mode of life, or kind of excursion, or average day.

NOTE TO THE INSTRUCTOR. -Lack of space forbids printing examples of the types of fictitious narrative. It is however recommended that later in the course all students should have the option of substituting for Exercises 120-124 (descriptions of landscapes) fictitious narratives, as follows: an improbable adventure, personal or impersonal; a fairy tale; a probable adventure, personal or impersonal; a realistic story, with dialogue. This work may properly be deferred till after Exercise 135.

CHAPTER II

DESCRIPTION

It is not

DESCRIPTION in itself deals chiefly with the appearance of objects or persons. concerned with the principles underlying the construction of objects, nor with the character of persons except so far as the reader may infer the principles or the character.

In describing any object or scene, there are always two possible methods or stages. We may say how the object or scene looks as a whole, or how it looks in its details. In practical description, there is nearly always need of combining both methods. The engineer or the architect is expected to give first a rough sketch of his house or bridge, and afterwards a detailed description.

This seems very simple; yet if left to himself the beginner is likely to omit the general impression; or else to give it last, when it is of comparatively little value; or else to report it inexactly.

The reasons why he may report it inexactly are two. Impressionism, the art of giving in general effects the first fleeting impression made by a scene upon the artist's mind, is difficult if only because the impression is fleeting. After we become interested in the details we find it hard to recall just how the whole seemed to us at first. This is particularly true of persons; a face often seems a wholly differ

ent face after we have studied the details of its expression. The second reason is that our previous knowledge of the subject may prevent us from seeing the object or scene exactly as it really appears. On this point the art-critic

Hamerton says:

It may make my meaning clearer if I take a special example, such as a full-grown oak. Considered as matter it is a column of the strongest wood we have, with a foundation much firmer than that of ordinary stakes and piles. The column is so strong that with its immense head of foliage it usually resists the most furious gales of our latitudes. No edifice built by man, with the single exception of a lighthouse, has foundations in any way comparable to its foundations.

An artist much impressed with this idea of strength would probably draw the oak with hard firm outlines, and give its rugged character with great force and truth, but he would pay less attention to the light and shade and color. In a more advanced stage, he would think of light and color more and think of them together. Finally,