charming scenes from nature, speaking of the fact that he had often been accused of romancing, of putting into his descriptions of nature what was not really there, says: "I wish to give an account of a bird or a flower or of any open-air scene or incident. My whole effort is to see the thing just as it was. I ask myself, 'Exactly how did this thing strike my mind? What was prominent? What was subordinated?'. . . I set the thing down exactly as it fell out. People say, 'I do not see what you do when I take a walk.' But for the most part they do, but the fact as it lies there in nature is crude and raw it needs to be brought out, to be passed through the heart and mind and presented in appropriate words." 1 We cannot all, to be sure, describe what we see as felicitously as does Mr. Burroughs; but none of us need say that he cannot see anything worth describing.

1

It is a good thing for the young writer to begin as early as possible the cultivation of habits of observation, of noting carefully the things he meets with in the world around him. This will give him a fund of material to draw upon of the very best possible kind. Even if he does not wish to rely on it exclusively, it will be found a very useful supplement to the stock of material he derives from his reading.

As to his reading, he should cultivate in that, also, habits of observation. He should read critically, or, as Emerson says, "creatively." If he is writing on a

1 See Indoor Studies, p. 250.

subject that he must read up on, let him fill his mind with everything relating to it that he can lay his hands on, or, at any rate, that seems worth while; then let him turn it over in his mind, assimilate it, and reflect upon it. After this, if there is a spark of originality in him it will make itself evident.

14. Unity of the discourse. Having secured his material, the writer's next business is to consider how it may be unified and given definite form and structure. A composition is not a mere mass of material more or less closely bearing upon the subject in hand and strung together in a haphazard way. It must have organic character. All its parts must be bound together and must contribute towards the production of some given effect. That is to say, it must have a central idea running through it and furnishing, so to speak, the thread by which the various parts are bound together, — a vital principle of unity working in and through every part and becoming evident in the whole.

This means that matter not strictly relevant to the subject in hand must be rigorously excluded from the composition. Irrelevant matter is not only useless but worse than useless. It is almost sure to cause the reader more or less confusion, and it may, at times, even prevent him from getting the true point of the discourse.

No more pertinent advice can be given to a young writer than that which counsels him to stick to his subject. If he is telling a story, let him tell

that story and no other; if he is trying to convince another person of the truth of a proposition he has laid down, let him keep to the point at issue. If he does not keep to his point, he is not likely to be either very clear or very convincing, for nothing is so destructive to effectiveness in a discourse as lack of unity.

Practically, the best way to secure unity in the composition is to narrow the subject down as much as possible. Most beginners make the mistake of writing upon subjects of too great breadth. The broader the subject, the more numerous the points of view from which it may be regarded, and hence the greater the temptation for the novice to scatter his ideas, to say a little on this, that, and the other aspect of his subject, rather than to concentrate his attention upon some one definite line of thought.

Unity requires concentration of effort on the part of the writer. It forbids him to dissipate his thought, to wander aimlessly from point to point and, as a result, arrive nowhere. It demands, rather, that he fix upon some definite point as the goal of his discourse, and that he endeavor to attain that goal. 15. The theme of the discourse. When the subject is narrowed down to a definite proposition, that proposition is said to be the theme of the discourse. It may or may not be stated in so many words in the discourse itself. Usually, indeed, it is not stated, but in that case it must be clearly implied.

The writer himself, it should be needless to say, must always have a pretty clear conception of his

theme. If he has not, the unity of his discourse is almost sure to suffer. He will know neither what to accept nor what to reject of the material that offers itself for his use.

Suppose, for example, that his subject is, "Football as a college sport." Is he an enthusiastic admirer and supporter of the game? In that case, his theme will probably be that football is a good college sport and should be encouraged; and in selecting his material he will, naturally, use only those facts and opinions about the game which tend to support his position. If he brings in anything that makes against his view, he will bring it in solely for the purpose of explaining it away or of belittling its importance. On the other hand, if he is an opponent of the game, his procedure will, of course, be just the opposite. If, however, he takes no definite attitude towards the game and has no theme to develop, he will have no principle to guide him in the selection of his material and will not be able to decide what to use or what not to use. The effect of a composition written in this way can easily be imagined.

16. The title of the discourse. Strictly speaking, the title is not a part of the discourse, but simply a name, a label, as it were, tacked on to show what the discourse is about. It may be the subject stated broadly or the subject narrowed down to the theme; but, as brevity is an essential characteristic of a good label, it is more often simply a short, convenient phrase as suggestive of the theme as possible. Thus,

if the subject stated broadly were, "The influence of the tariff on the steel industry of the United States," the theme might be, "The steel industry of the United States does not need the support of a high tariff," and the title simply, "The tariff and the steel industry."

17. Arrangement of the material. The problem of arranging the material of a discourse is often a troublesome one. It is complicated by the fact that each case is apt to have its peculiarities. A given subject handled by one writer under certain conditions may need wholly different treatment from that required by the same subject handled by another writer under other conditions. The basis of all literature, as has been said, is personal experience; and as each man's experience is apt to be somewhat different from that of every other man, so each writer's manner of presenting a given subject is likely to be in some respects different from that which would be adopted by any other writer.

18. Coherence in the discourse. No writer is a law unto himself, however. The material of every discourse must be fitted together in an orderly fashion of some kind or other. It must be made coherent. There must be no gaps or breaks in the composition. Each part must be in its proper place, - the place, that is, in which it will be most effective, and the

relation of the various parts to each other and to the whole must be made obvious. If this is not so, if there is any want of connection or break in the train