The Project Gutenberg eBook of A First Book In Writing English, by Edwin Herbert Lewis.

3. And it was to this household that Timothy had brought his child for adoption.

4. Gay, not being used to a regular morning toilet, had fought against it valiantly at first.

5. If you care to feel a warm glow in the region of your heart, imagine little Timothy Jessup sent to play in that garden.

Oral Exercise.—The following passage, from Hawthorne, is written in excellent loose sentences. Change to periodic all of them that can be so changed without hurting the ease of structure. Whatever else it be, a periodic sentence should never be strained or unnatural.

Then Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the task, and strained every sinew with manly strength and resolution. He put his whole brave heart into the effort. He wrestled with the big and sluggish stone as if it had been a living enemy. He heaved, he lifted, he resolved now to succeed, or else to perish there, and let the rock be his monument forever! Æthra stood gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly with a mother’s pride, and partly with a mother’s sorrow. The great rock stirred! Yes, it was raised slowly from the bedded moss and earth, uprooting the shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon its side. Theseus had conquered!

Inappropriate Periodicity.—It is foolish to use an elaborate suspended structure when a very simple thought or a very rapid narrative is to be given. Note the pomposity of the following sentences. Remove it by changing the structure.

“Three summers ago, to rejoin my family in northern Michigan, I left the city. On a little peninsula which juts out into Lake Michigan, a group of houses, dignified by the name of Edgewood, stands. Undistracted by the bustle of hotel life, a few sensible people live here. To get away from town for a few days and lounge in the pine woods about Edgewood, to me is always very pleasant.”

Oral Exercise.—Examine the following sentences one by one, and say whether each is (a) wholly periodic, (b) wholly loose, or (c) partly loose and partly periodic. When the last is the case, show at what point the change of structure occurs.

1. He who walks in the way these following ballads point will be manful in necessary fight, fair in trade, loyal in love, generous to the poor, tender in the household, prudent in living, plain in speech, merry upon occasion, simple in behavior, and honest in all things.—Lanier.

2. While Johnson was busied with his Idlers, his mother, who had accomplished her ninetieth year, died at Lichfield. It was long since he had seen her; but he had not failed to contribute largely, out of his small means, to her comfort. In order to defray the charges of her funeral, and to pay some debts which she had left, he wrote a little book in a single week, and sent off the sheets to the press without reading them over. A hundred pounds were paid him for the copyright; and the purchasers had great cause to be pleased with their bargain, for the book was “Rasselas.”—Macaulay: Life of Johnson.

3. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.—Philippians.

4. “Sir, you may destroy this little institution; it is weak; it is in your hands! I know it is one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But, if you do so, you must carry through your work! You must extinguish, one after another, all those greater lights of science which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our land! It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet there are those who love it.”—Webster.

5. Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections; let me indulge in refreshing remembrance of the past; let me remind you that, in early times, no States cherished greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return! Shoulder to shoulder they went through the Revolution; hand in hand they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered.—Webster.

6. That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength, and in smooth working order; ready, like a steam engine, to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the laws of her operations; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself.—Huxley.

7. If then the power of speech is a gift as great as any that can be named,—if the origin of language is by many philosophers even considered to be nothing short of divine,—if by means of words the secrets of the heart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief is carried off, sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted, experience recorded, and wisdom perpetuated,—if by great authors the many are drawn up into unity, national character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the future, the East and the West are brought into communication with each other,—if such men are, in a word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human family,—it will not answer to make light of Literature or to neglect its study; rather we may be sure that, in proportion as we master it in whatever language, and imbibe its spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own measure the ministers of like benefits to others, be they many or few, be they in the obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life,—who are united to us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal influence.—Cardinal Newman.[24]

Oral Exercise.—Each of the passages given above should be read aloud as a whole, to get the effects produced by the different types of sentence. In the first passage note that the first clause arouses interest by the periodic structure. So do the first and third sentences in the second passage; but the third and fourth—loose—have a fine simplicity that adds to the weight of their subject matter. The third passage moves up steadily to an impressive point,—the word think. The fourth passage is extremely direct and earnest. Webster is pleading for his Alma Mater, Dartmouth; is making an appeal, straight from his heart. Almost choked with emotion, he has no desire to frame periodic sentences and nicely subordinated clauses. In the fifth passage he is perhaps equally direct; but he is master of himself, and his sentences are somewhat more elaborate. In the sixth passage, Huxley gets a steadily increasing strength of thought, but not of structure. Cardinal Newman, on the other hand, builds up his period with superb suspense both of form and thought.

Written Exercise.—Change the sentence by Huxley into the periodic form. This can be done by changing the order of clauses, and beginning each subordinate clause with if, or with suppose, or with a relative.

Emphasis in the Sentence.—A sentence cannot be called well-knit if it does not succeed in calling most attention to the most important idea. We have seen already how important it is to put the unimportant parts of the sentence into subordinate clauses. How may further emphasis be had?

The beginning and the end of the sentence are the most prominent places. Important words should usually stand in these places. Rarely should these points be covered up with trivial expressions. Compare two sentences. “As a matter of fact, it is bread, rather than advice, that people actually need, in this city.” “Bread it is, rather than advice, that, in this city, people actually need.”

Attention can always be called to a word by placing it out of the ordinary, commonplace order. The inverted order, where verb precedes the noun, or predicate adjective precedes the verb, frequently permits emphasis to be put just where it is wanted. The oft-quoted example is as good a one as can be found: “Great is Diana of the Ephesians!” How much better it is, how much greater the cry is than, “Diana of the Ephesians is great!”

Oral Exercise.—Which of the following sentences from Ruskin begin and end with words that deserve distinction?[25]

“For all books are divisible into two classes,—the books of the hour, and the books of all time. Mark this distinction; it is not one of quality only. It is not merely the bad book that does not last, and the good one that does; it is a distinction of species. There are good books for the hour, and good ones for all time; bad books for the hour, and bad ones for all time. I must define the two kinds before I go farther.”

Oral Exercise.—Change the order of words in the following sentences so as to throw more emphasis on the italicized words. Avoid infringement of English idiom in making the changes.

10. He repeatedly pronounced these words, and they were the last which he uttered.

13. What a place an old library is to be in. It seems as though all the souls of all the writers that have bequeathed their labors to these Bodleians, as in some middle state or dormitory, were reposing here. I do not want to handle, to profane their winding sheet, the leaves. I could a shade as soon dislodge.

Climax.—The principle of climax demands that in a series of related terms the weaker degree should precede the stronger. Southey says of Lord Nelson’s being permitted to live to hear the news of his great victory: “That consolation, that joy, that triumph, was afforded him.” By these three nouns the reader ascends, as if by a ladder—climax is merely Greek for ladder. Endeavor to discover the original order in which the following sentences were written to secure climax. Changing them by slight omissions, weave them together into two sentences.

“The most triumphant death is that of the martyr. The most splendid death is that of the hero in the hour of victory. If the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson’s translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. The most awful death is that of the martyred patriot. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength, and a name which is our pride—an example and a name which are at this hour inspiring hundreds of the youth of England.”

CHAPTER VII
ON ORGANIZING THE THEME

Different Ways of Planning.—There are various kinds of composition,—description, narration, argument, and others. These will be treated one by one in later chapters. Each kind has laws of its own. Each has its own vocabulary, which may well be studied apart from other vocabularies. So, too, each type calls for special methods of organization. For the present, only a few principles of planning, applicable to all types alike, need be considered.

The Growth of a Thought.—When a thought is first conceived, it is always misty, dim, nebulous.[26] When we speak of having a “general notion,” a “vague notion,” we usually mean that a thought is just beginning. If it receives attention, it emerges from the nebulous condition and forms into several definite thoughts. Or, to change the figure, it grows and branches. Suppose that the mind awakes to the vague notion that the room is getting cold. Cold is the undeveloped root from which may presently branch off such thoughts as these: “Yes, it is really cold. In fact, I feel cold all over. My hands are blue, and I am shivering. Besides, Horace over there is standing with his back to the radiator, and so he too must be cold.” The thought has grown into several sentences. Cold branched into I am cold all over, and this also sent off two shoots—My hands are blue, and I am shivering. Then the mind stopped this line of branching, and out from the stock sprang a new branch: Horace is standing with his back to the radiator; and then this sends off the branch and so he too must be cold. Try to draw a picture to represent the process that has gone on.

Now, the whole growth of a thought—stock and branches—can sometimes be expressed within the limits of one grammatical sentence. If there are too many thoughts for this, they are put into separate sentences, and the whole is called a miniature composition, or isolated paragraph.

Exactly as a paragraph grows, so a long composition may grow out of one vague idea. Some ideas have in them only enough matter to be developed into a paragraph. Others are germs from which whole books might grow. “That apple looks good” would probably develop into a short paragraph; but, “it is strange that that apple should fall to the earth instead of away from it” might blossom into a great system of natural philosophy. If a nebulous idea has in it the making of a long theme, it will develop into main parts if the attention be fixed keenly upon it. These are paragraph nebulæ, which will subdivide into sentences. Or, to vary the figure, the main thought will send out main branches (paragraphs) which will send off lesser ones (sentences).

Unity.—Although thought grows, one must keep in mind that it does not always grow to fruit unless it is trained and pruned. Thought loves to branch, and unless restrained by a stern sense of logic, it will often end in a mere tangle of superfluous twigs and leaves. To speak less figuratively, every writer is in danger of setting down matters suggested by the subject in hand but not logically related to it. This is as true of a large piece of work as of a sentence (compare page 90). Every theme, like every sentence, should have unity. It should be the development of one idea—a large, complex idea, if you please, but, nevertheless, one. No matter how long or how short the whole, it must all concern the different phases of one thing or one thought. It should grow naturally from one germ. Every part in it should bear on the central idea of the whole—so that, after reading any given sentence, the reader can see a real connection between title and sentence. A well-organized composition cannot spare any part; each is essential to its life. Milton said, “Almost as well kill a man as kill a good book”; and we may adapt this idea to the structure of the theme. A good composition is so well organized that if you cut it anywhere it will bleed.

Planning a Paragraph.—Before writing a paragraph, try to think out the whole of it. Let the thought grow in the mind before you let it grow on paper. This method will afford a chance to review the whole mentally and to determine whether the thoughts follow each other logically.

The Topic Sentence.—When an after-dinner speaker rises to respond to a toast, he generally announces his topic at once, or after a sentence or two of introduction. He is very likely also to announce at once his chief thought about the subject; for he knows that people like to hear him come to the point. If however he has reason to think that his hearers may not agree with him immediately, he is likely to state his subject first, and then lead up gradually to his own conclusion about it.

We naturally follow some such course in writing. With each paragraph we begin a new speech, as it were. It is a matter both of courtesy and of economy if in each we state definitely what we are talking about. The topic sentence of a paragraph ordinarily states the general subject, or else declares the general thought, i.e. conclusion, of the whole. It is generally short, because emphatic.

A Tree-Planting Association has been organized in New York City. The Association will be organized with twelve or more members on a block, who will form a local club under the Association. A tree-planting association may, in this city, fail to plant trees, but it certainly will encourage the planting of window boxes, the fencing of unused lots, the painting of fences to the exclusion of posters, and the general care of the public street. Back yards will assume some relation to the general good of the community, and trees, vines, and flowers will find place in them. The children will be taught to care for the appearance of the block, and chalk-marks and other defacements will soon disappear, because of new-born civic pride.—The Outlook.

In the following paragraph, Macaulay does not state his topic till the second sentence. The first is a general remark by way of introduction.

One of the first objects of an inquirer, who wishes to form a correct notion of the state of a community at a given time, must be to ascertain of how many persons that community then consisted. Unfortunately the population of England in 1685, cannot be ascertained with perfect accuracy. For no great state had then adopted the wise course of periodically numbering the people. All men were left to conjecture for themselves; and, as they generally conjectured without examining facts, and under the influence of strong passions and prejudices, their guesses were often ludicrously absurd. Even intelligent Londoners ordinarily talked of London as containing several millions of souls. It was confidently asserted by many that, during the thirty-five years which had elapsed between the accession of Charles the First and the Restoration, the population of the City had increased by two millions. Even while the ravages of the plague and fire were recent, it was the fashion to say that the capital still had a million and a half of inhabitants. Some persons, disgusted by these exaggerations, ran violently into the opposite extreme. Thus Isaac Vossius, a man of undoubted parts and learning, strenuously maintained that there were only two millions of human beings in England, Scotland, and Ireland taken together.—Macaulay: History of England, Chapter III.

In the following paragraph, the topic sentence states the general thought of the whole.

The appetite of this fish is almost insatiable. Mr. Jesse threw to one pike of five pounds’ weight, four roach, each about four inches in length, which it devoured instantly, and swallowed [27] a fifth within a quarter of an hour. Moor-hens, ducks, and even swans have been known to fall a prey to this voracious fish, its long teeth effectually keeping them prisoners under water until drowned.—Dr. J. G. Wood.

The following paragraph states in the topic sentence the general subject, in the last sentence the general thought, which has grown out of the subject.

Two years ago the Boston School Board encouraged the establishment of cheap luncheons in the schools. Up to the present time this has been considered an experiment. It is now conceded that the experimental stage is passed, and that cheap, nutritious school luncheons can successfully be provided, and are in demand.

The following shows how the first sentence of a paragraph may be made to include the general topic.

I cite as an instance of the absence of vandalism in Japan the experience of a Japanese friend of mine who lived on a street near and parallel to the busiest street in Tokio. He had placed in his front gate, bordering immediately upon the sidewalk, an exquisite panel carved in delicate tracery and nearly two hundred years old. Such a specimen would be placed in our Museums of Art under lock and key. On my expressing surprise that he would expose so precious a relic without fear that some heedless boy might break off a twig, or otherwise deface it, he assured me it was quite as safe there as in his library. Three years afterwards I chanced to be in Japan again, and though my friend was dead, and a stranger occupied the premises, I was led to seek the place to ascertain the condition of the delicate wood-carving. It was absolutely uninjured, though slightly bleached by the weather, and this in the great commercial city of Tokio, with a population of over one million.—Edward S. Morse.[28]

Kinds of Paragraphs.—What can be said within the limits of a paragraph? The same things that can be said in a sentence, but more fully. We need to consider here only a few of these. The sentences may repeat the substance of the topic sentence, adding something new. Or, if the paragraph states the general conclusion first, the succeeding sentences may give the needed particulars, or illustrations, or examples, or proofs. Once more, the paragraph may open with the statement of a cause, this being followed by the statement of a necessary effect. Or, the paragraph as a whole may develop a contrast. Or, it may consist of a group of sentences that narrate the particulars of some event, or describe some scene.

A true critic must love the subject-matter of literature. He must care for its message. The theme of the story, the thing the author was trying to say, must not escape him. The form of the thing is much, but the soul is more.

That farm bore every manner of fruit known to the climate. There were apples, a score of varieties, from the snow apple that burned among the leaves, and when bitten revealed a flesh so white that you kept biting it lest the juice should discolor it, to the great cold autumn fruits that were resonant beneath the snap of your finger. There were opulent pears, distilling the golden sun into their bottles. There were plums, the kind that succeed. Grapes there were, and quinces, and peaches,—the last not so prolific as the apples, but a very worthy fruit.

The following gives a general thought, repeats it, explains it, illustrates it, and so defends it.

If it were only for a vocabulary, the scholar would be covetous of action. Life is our dictionary. Years are well spent in country labors; in town; in the insight into trades and manufactures; in frank intercourse with many men and women; in science; in art; to the one end of mastering in all their facts a language by which to illustrate and embody our perceptions. I learn immediately from any speaker how much he has already lived, through the poverty or the splendor of his speech. Life lies behind us as the quarry from whence we get tiles and copestones for the masonry of to-day. This is the way to learn grammar. Colleges and books only copy the language which the field and the work-yard made.—Emerson.

The King could not see that there were two Englands—that of himself and North, and that of Burke and Chatham. The result was inevitable. A third England sprang up across the sea.

The following sets up a quaint contrast. The passage is from Dr. Johnson’s allegory on Wit and Learning:—

Their conduct was, whenever they desired to recommend themselves to distinction, entirely opposite. Wit was daring and adventurous; Learning cautious and deliberate. Wit thought nothing reproachful but dullness; Learning was afraid of no imputation but that of error. Wit answered before he understood, lest his quickness of apprehension should be questioned; Learning paused, where there was no difficulty, lest any insidious sophism should lie undiscovered. Wit perplexed every debate by rapidity and confusion; Learning tired the hearers with endless distinctions, and prolonged the dispute without advantage, by proving that which never was denied. Wit, in hopes of shining, would venture to produce what he had not considered, and often succeeded beyond his own expectation, by following the train of a lucky thought; Learning would reject every new notion, for fear of being entangled in consequences which she could not foresee, and was often hindered, by her caution, from pressing her advantages, and subduing her opponent.

Oral Exercise.[29]—Each of the following paragraphs had a topic sentence stating a cause, which was then followed by a statement of the effect. Frame a topic sentence for each, stating the cause.

1. — — — — — — Consequently it is a good thing to apply pretty sharp tests to whatever offers itself as the genuine thing. Often the great schemes that men hatch for growing rich are nothing but pyrites. The acid of sharp common sense corrodes and discolors them.

2. — — — — — — — — — — — — Nothing worse could have befallen the man. Being unused to the possession of wealth he ran through his millions in a year. In 1876 his old friend Everard met him in the street and passed him by as a beggar.

Oral Exercise.—Examine the following paragraphs of explanation, and form a topic sentence for each.

1. — — — — — — — — — — — In other words, hold to the good you have. Let well enough alone. People lay great plans; they see the future through rosy lenses; they build castles in Spain. But great plans that can’t be carried out are of less value than small, practicable plans; the future is never just what it promises to be; and as for castles in Spain, of what value are they to owners who can neither rent nor inhabit them?

2. — — — — — — — — — — — — — It is not, observe, a mere coating of snow of given depth throughout, but it is snow loaded on until the rocks can hold no more. The surplus does not fall in the winter, because, fastened by continual frost, the quantity of snow which an Alp can carry is greater than each single winter can bestow; it falls in the first mild days of spring in enormous avalanches. Afterward the melting continues, gradually removing from all the steep rocks the small quantity of snow which was all they could hold, and leaving them black and bare among the accumulated fields of unknown depth, which occupy the capacious valleys and less inclined superficies of the mountain.

Oral Exercise.—Analyze the following narrative paragraphs from Irving’s Sketch-Book, endeavoring to discover what office each sentence performs in the paragraph.

“We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a distance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirt-sleeves fancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in their hands, were seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a large number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the hall door, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their clubs together, keeping exact time to the music; while one, whimsically crowned with a fox’s skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept capering round the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmas-box with many antic gesticulations.”

“After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with brawn and beef and stout home-brewed. The ’Squire himself mingled among the rustics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of deference and regard. It is true, I perceived two or three of the younger peasants, as they were raising their tankards to their mouths, when the ’Squire’s back was turned, making something of a grimace, and giving each other the wink; but the moment they caught my eye they pulled grave faces, and were exceedingly demure. With Master Simon, however, they all seemed more at their ease. His varied occupations and amusements had made him well known throughout the neighborhood. He was a visitor at every farm-house and cottage; gossiped with the farmers and their wives; romped with their daughters; and, like that type of a vagrant bachelor, the humble-bee, tolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of the country round.”

Theme.—Choose one of the following topic sentences, and develop the idea coherently, by a succession of illustrations, of details, or of particulars, into a paragraph of 150 words.

Theme.—Choose one of the following topic sentences, and defend it by giving reasons, proofs, to the extent of 150 or 200 words.

4. None but scientists are competent to decide whether or not vivisection is necessary to science.

5. If necessary to science, vivisection should be practised only when necessary.

Theme.—Develop one of the following topic sentences into a paragraph of contrast,—200 words.

5. Hawthorne [or some other writer] has two characters that are strong foils to each other.

Expansion of One Paragraph into Several.—Let it be supposed that having composed a theme of one paragraph, a student has been asked to develop the subject at greater length; the paragraph has 85 words, and the audience wants 200, or 225. What will be the right course? It is possible to expand one paragraph of 85 words into one paragraph of 225 words. But if the paragraph of 85 words has two or three distinct parts, it is better to expand each into a new paragraph.

Let it be imagined that Dr. Wood, the English naturalist, had written a very short paragraph on the Crustacea; that it ran somewhat like this.

The Crustacea

The aquatic animals known as the Crustacea have no internal skeleton, but are defended by a strong crust, made of a series of rings. This unyielding armor, together with the coverings of the eyes, the tendons of the claws, and the lining membrane of the stomach, with its teeth, is cast off annually to permit the growth of the body. The Crustacea possess the power of reproducing a lost or original limb; and, indeed, if injured the animal itself shakes off the injured joint.

Suppose, now, that Dr. Wood found himself dissatisfied with these somewhat cramped and overloaded sentences, and determined to rewrite, making three paragraphs where he had formerly but one. In the new theme, the main topics would be, as before: Definition of Crustacea; Annual shedding; Reproduction of Limbs. Each would have a paragraph to itself, where before it had but a sentence. All the sentences to be made about the Definition would be set off by themselves as one main part of the theme; all those about the Shedding would form a second; all those about the New Limbs, a third.

“Set off”;—that is, by indentation, or indention. This word means, “a biting in,” or, more properly, “a biting out.” Where a new division of the theme begins, the first line does not come up plumb to the straight edge at the left; it is bitten into; it begins farther to the right than do the other lines. In the printed book, the indentation is small—usually the width of a letter m. But in a manuscript it is important for the indentation to be absolutely unmistakable. Some persons keep so ragged an edge at the left hand that it is impossible to know whether or not they should be credited with understanding what a paragraph is. Indent each new paragraph one or two inches. Bring every line of the paragraph, except the last, up even with the right-hand margin; the last line may be stopped anywhere, if the paragraph is complete in sense; often this line has but a word or two. If at any time you inadvertently omit the indentation, and have not time to copy, place a paragraph mark where the new paragraph should begin; thus, ¶.

A rough outline for Dr. Wood’s new paragraphs could now be made. The topics being known, the number of sentences under each could be guessed at. There is nothing in the original paragraph to show that Dr. Wood ascribed especial importance to some one of the three topics. The third is perhaps the least important. It may be estimated that in the completed theme he would give about 80 words to each of the first two, and about 50 to the third. The outline would be something like this, the full stops representing those of the future theme.

The Crustacea

¶ Crustacea are aquatic. No skeleton, but crust, which protects and strengthens. Framework of rings; part develops into limbs. Articulated animals.

¶ Curious way of growth. Other animals not inconvenienced as they grow. Not so Crustacea. Mail unyielding. Is cast off annually and larger coat grows. Eye-covering, tendons, stomach-membrane are also shed.

¶ Curious reproduction of lost or injured limb. New one grows if old lost; animal shakes off injured joint. Lobsters do, when alarmed.

As a matter of fact, Dr. Wood did write a short chapter on the Crustacea, and here it is.

The Crustacea

The Crustacea are almost all aquatic animals. They have no internal skeleton, but their body is covered with a strong crust, which serves for protection as well as for strength. Their whole framework consists of a series of rings fitted to, and working in each other; some forming limbs, and others developing into the framework supporting the different organs. From this reason, they and the remaining animals, as far as the star-fishes, who have no limbs at all, are called “articulated” animals.

Their method of growth is very curious. Other animals, as they increase in size, experience no particular inconvenience. Not so the Crustacea. Their bodies are closely enveloped in a strong, unyielding mail, which cannot grow with them. Their armor is therefore cast off every year, and a fresh coat formed to suit their increased dimensions. Not only is the armor cast off, but even the covering of the eyes, the tendons of the claws, and the lining membrane of the stomach, with its teeth.

They all also possess the curious power of reproducing a lost or injured limb. In the former case, a fresh limb supplies the place of that lost; and in the latter case, the animal itself shakes off the injured joint, and a new one soon takes its place. Lobsters, when alarmed, frequently throw off their claws.

Theme.—Choose one of the following paragraphs and expand it into a theme. Each sentence should grow into a paragraph. The proportions to be observed are suggested by the number of amplifying sentences prescribed for the different paragraphs. Write a title above the theme.

1. (a) I like winter for its outdoor sports. [Four or five sentences.] (b) I like it no less for its indoor sports. [Four or five sentences.]

2. (a) Wearing birds is foolish, for it is a remnant of savagery, like tattooing. [Two or three sentences.] (b) It is less artistic than is often supposed. [Two or three sentences.] (c) It is unwise, because it threatens the extinction of certain species of flycatchers and warblers. [Two or three sentences.] (d) It is cruel, necessitating slaughter of innocent life, and producing callousness to suffering. [Five or six sentences.]

3. (a) A contrast between faces. [Two sentences.] (b) The face of Napoleon is intellectual, firm, and cruel. [Three sentences, giving details of the face.] (c) The face of Lincoln is intellectual, firm, and kind. [Three sentences, giving details.]

4. (a) There are two kinds of people,—those who know what they want life to do for them, and those who do not. [This introductory sentence may be made a part of the first paragraph.] The people who know what they want are few. [Three or four sentences.] (b) The people who do not know what they want are partly young people, who have not had training enough to know; partly older people. [Three or four sentences.]

5. (a) Some dinners I like, some I do not. [Part of first paragraph.] The kinds I like; food; company. [Three or four sentences.] The kinds I do not like; food; company. [Three or four sentences.]

Oral Exercise.—Discuss with the instructor and the class the best way of paragraphing each of the following topics. Form first an idea as to how many paragraphs each should have and what should be the paragraph subjects. 1. This recitation room. 2. How Lincoln looked. 3. A painting I like. 4. What I do in a day. 5. My plans. 6. The walk to school. 7. My past education. 8. The elm. 9. The construction of the steam engine. 10. An ocean steamer. 11. Evening in the country.

Oral Exercise.—Read carefully the following speech and state the paragraph subjects. Estimate the number of words in each paragraph, and say whether you think the proportion of parts is bad or good. The speech will be recognized as that delivered by Lincoln at the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery. It was written first as one paragraph; but a year later, in making a copy, the President divided it as you see.

“Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

“But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain,—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom,—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Oral Exercise.—The importance of modelling all work on the right scale is illustrated in the task of the editor of an encyclopædia. His problem is to give each subject space and prominence according to its importance. Opening Johnson’s Encyclopædia, I find seven columns devoted to Shakespeare. Of these, two and a half are given to the poet’s life, four and a half to his works. Is the proportion about right? If you were editing an encyclopædia of geography, how much space should you give to Africa as compared with Europe? How much, if the encyclopædia dealt with civilization?

Oral Exercise in Proportioning.—In treating each of the following subjects, (a) what paragraph topics might be chosen? (b) which paragraph ought to be the longest, dealing with the most important phase of the subject? 1. Living statesmen. 2. Advantages of country life. 3. The life of Lincoln. 4. The uses of gold. 5. A railway accident. 6. A cyclone. 7. A visit to an art-gallery. 8. A week of camping.

Exercise in Varying the Scale.—Read one of the following poems. Then write two papers, the first retelling (not closely paraphrasing) the story of the poem in one paragraph of about 100 words, the second retelling the same story in a theme of 300 words, properly paragraphed. In each theme give space to every part according to its relative importance.

Browning: Tray—about vivisection; Clive—story of courage; Incident of the French camp—story of heroism; How we brought the good news from Ghent to Aix—story of endurance; The Pied Piper of Hamelin—story of pathos; Muleykeh—owner’s pride in a horse; The Bean Feast—a Pope’s humility. Longfellow: The Fell of Atri; Paul Revere’s Ride; Evangeline; The Legend Beautiful; Robert of Sicily. Lowell: The Vision of Sir Launfal. Drayton: The Ballad of Agincourt (Heart of Oak Books, Vol. V.). Thackeray: Chronicle of the Drum (Ibid.). Tennyson: The Revenge (Ibid.). Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Ibid.). Whittier: Skipper Ireson’s Ride (Ibid.).

Choice of Topic; Method of Work.—It is easier to choose among definite theme subjects, printed in the book, than to choose from an unlimited number of topics. Left free, a person may be attracted to a subject that is either too large, or else mechanically limited. The latter kind is the easier to manage. “The parts of a certain city,” is a topic easily paragraphed. To choose no subjects but such as this would lead a person into making his theme in water-tight compartments. On the other hand, what can any one write in half an hour that will interest a reasonable being in such a subject as Water, or Clouds, or Steam, or Electricity, or the Rise and Fall of Nations?

If the student is given free choice of a subject, he should select something that he really cares about, and that he wishes some definite audience to care about. Different modes of treatment are necessary to interest different audiences.

Very often the attractive subject will not be capable of easy analysis. In such a case, choose only a few paragraph topics, thus narrowing the treatment; pick out the most attractive phases of the subject.

This done, invent a theme title that will give an adequate hint of what is coming. The actor, Mr. Joseph Jefferson, once made a charming talk to some college men about the “starring system,” concluding with remarks about the fancy of some people that Bacon wrote Shakespeare and put a cryptogram into the plays. A college periodical, wanting to give some hint of both topics, reported the speech under the heading “Stars and Cryptograms.” It was not a very good title, for it was meaningless. But it was designed to rouse curiosity, and, taken in connection with Jefferson’s name, it did as well, I dare say, as a less vague and fanciful title.

Let it be supposed that a person is to choose a subject for a simple theme,—any subject he pleases. He is to select one that will interest high school students as well as himself. His window looks out on a lake. How will Lakes do, for a topic? It is too large; one would never have done. Nobody enjoys reading a small theme on a large matter. The window affords a glimpse of the lake; perhaps this Glimpse of the Lake would serve for a theme. There would be no difficulty in paragraphing; one section would go to the water, one to the boats, one to the sky. But the water would have to be described exactly as it now looks, though looking its worst. The boats are all absent except one, and perhaps there are other kinds that he would like to tell about. Besides, the lad in the boat is fishing, and the writer may be glad to tell about the fishing on this lake. If however memories of the past few days must be dragged in to make the theme interesting to us all, why, the name must be changed. The writer may call it, A Glimpse of the Lake and Some Memories; the title can then be interpreted with some elasticity.

What, now, are the chief things to say? A brief paragraph of introduction, perhaps, though that is by no means necessary. Then something about the look of the lake. Then a word about the boats. Then something about the fishing. Here is enough: water, boats, fishing.

Now for the outline. ¶ Sprained ankle, armchair. Must study landscape. Window shows lake. ¶ Lake has moods. Dull now. Glare this morning, colors last night. Sometimes calm; crystal depths. Ripples. Wind makes it blossom; raises undercurrents. Rain quiets it. Freckled look. Queer way water fits land. ¶ Steamer seen. Variety of boats. Red-stack boats. Swarms of passengers. Boats gay at night. Launches. Pulse of engines. Sailboat. It upset, the other day. Rowboats. Fisherman. ¶ Casting for bass. Amateur. Wish him luck! I tried for pike. Tried for bass. No luck. Tried for perch. Caught a bass. [Six or eight sentences.]

In the last paragraph it perhaps occurs to the writer that the bullheads bite when the water is muddy; and this muddiness suggests the first paragraph; the muddiness should be described back there with the changing look of the water.

Next, the composition. It is not offered as a model of style, but to suggest a possible way of organizing any simple theme.

CHAPTER VII ON ORGANIZING THE THEME

CHAPTER VII
ON ORGANIZING THE THEME