First we shall study narration. Whether we are trying to tell something that has happened to us, something we have heard, or something we have read, we are continually thinking, "I wish I knew how to tell a story." Probably the easiest way to become a good story-teller is to begin with incidents. We all note many occurrences which are worth recording, and in order to write them in good form, we should study the way in which others have done the same kind of writing. We should remember, too, that practice in telling incidents from the lives of others will help us in telling those that come within our own experience.

Exercises

486. In criticizing the following incidents, answer these questions:

1. Is the introduction sufficiently brief ?

2. Are the events told in a natural order ?

3. Does the narrative end in a way that brings out clearly the main point?

Lamb's Salt Dips

Lamb had been medically advised to take a course of sea bathing; and accordingly, at the door of his bathing machine, whilst he stood shivering with the cold, two stout fellows laid hold of him, one at each shoulder, like heraldic supporters; they waited for the word of command from their principal, who began the following oration to them :

"Hear me, men! Take notice of this - I am to be dipped." What more he would have said is unknown, for having reached the word "dipped," he commenced such a rolling fire of di-di-di-di, that when at length he descended a plomb upon the full word dipped, the two men, rather tired of the long suspense, became satisfied that they had reached what lawyers call the "operative clause" of the sentence, and both exclaiming, "Oh, yes, sir, we are quite aware of that," down they plunged him into the sea.

On emerging, Lamb sobbed so much from the cold that he found no voice suitable to his indignation; from necessity he seemed tranquil; and again addressing the men, who stood respectfully listening, he began thus:

" Men ! is it possible to obtain your attention ? "

"Oh, surely, sir, by all means."

"Then listen; once more I tell you I am to be di-di-di-di-," and then, with a burst of indignation, "dipped, I tell you."

"Oh, decidedly, sir," rejoined the men, "decidedly," and down the stammerer went for a second time.

Petrified with cold and wrath, once more Lamb made a feeble attempt at explanation:

"Grant me pa-pa-patience! Is it mum-um-murder you me-me-ean? Again, and again I tell you I'm to be di-di-di-dipped," now speaking furiously, with the tone of an injured man.

"Oh, yes, sir," the men replied, "we know that; we fully understood it"; and, for the third time, down went Lamb into the sea.

"O limbs of Satan!" he said, on coming up for the third time, "it's now too late; I tell you that I am - no, that I was - by medical direction to be di-di-di-dipped only once."

Thackeray And The Oyster

Thackeray announced to me by letter . . . that he . . . would sail for Boston by the Canada on the 30th of October. All the necessary arrangements for his lecturing tour had been made without troubling him with any of the details. He arrived on a frosty November evening, and went directly to the Tremont House, where rooms had been engaged for him. I remember his delight in getting off the sea, and the enthusiasm with which he hailed the announcement that dinner would be ready shortly. A few friends were ready to sit down with him, and he seemed greatly to enjoy the novelty of an American repast. In London he had been very curious in his inquiries about American oysters, as marvelous stories, which he did not believe, had been told him of their great size. We apologized - although we had taken care that the largest specimens to be procured should startle his unwonted vision when he came to the table - for what we called the extreme smallness of the oysters, promising that we would do better next time. Six bloated Falstafnan bivalves lay before him in their shells. I noticed that he gazed at them anxiously with fork upraised; then he whispered to me, with a look of anguish, "How shall I do it ?" I described to him the simple process by which the free-born citizens of America were accustomed to accomplish such a task. He seemed satisfied that the thing was feasible, selected the smallest one in the half-dozen (rejecting a large one, "because," he said, "it resembled the High Priest's servant's ear that Peter cut off"), and then bowed his head as if he were saying grace. All eyes were upon him to watch the effect of a new sensation in the person of a great British author. Opening his mouth very wide, he struggled for a moment, and then all was over. I shall never forget the comic look of despair he cast upon the other five over-occupied shells. I broke the perfect stillness by asking him how he felt. "Profoundly grateful," he gasped, "and as if I had swallowed a little baby."

1 Reprinted by permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company.

- J. T. Fields, "Yesterdays with Authors."

487. Tell the foregoing incident. Be sure to keep your audience in suspense as well as the writer does.

488. Tell the first anecdote without allowing any of the men to speak for themselves, and state whether it seems wise to allow the persons, or characters, to speak for themselves as much as possible.

489. Write an incident that is suggested by one of the following topics. See that you have a good beginning, an orderly sequence of events, and a dignified conclusion.

490. Tell an incident based on your own experience.

491. Write an account of some interesting event about which you are now studying in history.

492. Does the following narrative begin promptly? Is the order of events a natural one ? Does the story end well ?

A Sad Story

My next-door neighbor has a rooster which set up to be the rival of mine. It is a strange thing that creatures living side by side, instead of cultivating friendship and good feelings, should become envious, jealous, and quarrelsome.

Well, at first the rival roosters were satisfied with trying to see which could crow the louder, and it really seemed as if they would split their throats in the contest. Then they began to try which should wake up and crow first in the morning, and in this strife they would often begin at two o'clock at night; and lest one should get advantage over the other, they kept crowing away till sunrise.

So long as things were confined to crowing, no serious evil followed, but from crows the rivals at last came to blows. One day, as they chanced to be pretty near together, they began crowing at each other. By and by my rooster got angry; so he mounted the fence which divides my yard from my neighbor's, flapped his wings, and crowed a most tremendous crow. Upon this the other gave him a regular challenge to fight. There was no police to stop them, and they went at it. It was no boy's play; wings, spurs, and beaks, all were put in action. They fought like tigers, and when neither could stand, they held on to each other's combs and lay panting on the ground. At last they got up. One marched one way and the other another.

My rooster was so nearly blind that he could not find the way to the henhouse. The best he could do was to get under a small cedar tree, and there he took lodgings for the night. But, alas! the weather was bitter cold, and the poor thing was found stiff as an icicle, his feathers torn, his comb destroyed, and the air of pride and triumph which once distinguished him, departed forever. My neighbor's rooster saw the poor fellow lying in the snow, so over the fence he flew and began a most furious assault upon the lifeless body. After beating it soundly for about five minutes, the creature paused, looked contemptuously at the object of his wrath, drew himself up to his full height, and crowed. Then, with proud strides, he marched off to his flock of hens, who received him with three cheers, as the hero of all outdoors.

498. Read aloud the following bit of narrative until you can read it well. Then tell just why you like or dislike it.

The bear was coming on; he had, in fact, come on. I judged that he could see the whites of my eyes. All my subsequent reflections were confused. I raised the gun, covered the bear's breast with the sight, and let drive. Then I turned, and ran like a deer. I did not hear the bear pursuing. I looked back. The bear had stopped. He was lying down. I then remembered that the best thing to do after having fired your gun is to reload it. I slipped in a charge, keeping my eyes on the bear. He never stirred. I walked back suspiciously. There was a quiver in the hind-legs, but no other motion. Still he might be shamming: bears often sham. To make sure, I approached, and put a ball into his head. He didn't mind it now: he minded nothing. Death had come to him with a merciful suddenness. He was calm in death. In order that he might remain so, I blew his brains out, and then started for home. I had killed a bear!

- CD. Warner.

494. Read the following narratives aloud and criticize (1) the introduction, (2) the order of events, (3) the ending.

Incident Of The French Camp

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day; With neck outthrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow

Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans

That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army-leader Lannes

Waver at yonder wall," - Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew

A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,

And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy:

You hardly could suspect - (So tight he kept his lips compressed,

Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast

Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace

We've got you Ratisbon! The Marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him !" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes; "You're wounded !" "Nay," the soldier's pride

Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, Sire !" And his chief beside,

Smiling the boy fell dead.

- Browning.

Quite So

"I say there, drop that!" cried Strong. "All right, sir, didn't know it was you," he added hastily, seeing it was Lieutenant Haines who had thrown back the flap of the tent, and let in a gust of wind and rain that threatened the most serious bronchial consequences to our discontented tallow dip.

"You're to bunk in here," said the lieutenant, speaking to some one outside. The some one stepped in, and Haines vanished in the darkness.

When Strong had succeeded in restoring the candle to consciousness, the light fell upon a tall, shy-looking man of about thirty-five, with long, hay-colored beard and mustache, upon which the raindrops stood in clusters, like the night dew on patches of cobweb in a meadow. It was an honest face, with unworldly blue eyes, that looked out from under the broad visor of the infantry cap. With a deferential glance towards us, the newcomer unstrapped his knapsack, spread his blanket over it, and sat down unobtrusively.

"Rather damp night out," remarked Blakely, whose strong hand was supposed to be conversation.

"Quite so," replied the stranger, not curtly, but pleasantly, and with an air as if he had said all there was to be said about it.

"Come from the North recently ?" inquired Blakely, after a pause.

"Yes."

"From any place in particular ? "

"Maine."

" People considerably stirred up down there ? " continued Blakely, determined not to give up.

"Quite so."

Blakely threw a puzzled look over the tent, and seeing Ned Strong on the broad grin, frowned severely. Strong instantly assumed an abstracted air, and began humming softly,

"I wish I was in Dixie."

"The State of Maine," observed Blakely, with a certain defiance of manner not at all necessary in discussing a geographical question, "is a pleasant State."

"In summer," suggested the stranger.

"In summer, I mean," returned Blakely with animation, thinking he had broken the ice. "Cold as blazes in winter, though - isn't it ?"

The new recruit merely nodded.

Blakely eyed the man homicidally for a moment, and then, smiling one of those smiles of simulated gayety which the novelists inform us are more tragic than tears, turned upon him with withering irony.

"Trust you left the old folks pretty comfortable?"

"Dead."

"The old folks dead !"

"Quite so."

- T. B. Aldrich, "Quite So," in "Marjorie Daw."

Note. In this combination of narrative and description, notice what an important part the conversation plays. Does the natural way in which the writer approaches the climax remind you of the telling of one of the anecdotes in this chapter?