recipitate an
atmosphere in words is a matter of such delicacy that the writer will be
forced to employ every resource of language, with a consequent
complication in structure. The necessity is to hold the tale in mind
before writing until its totality of character is realized, then to
strive to commit no gaucheries in execution. The right word for the
right place must be sought, indefinite advice which will prove of little
aid in writing a single story, but which will yield ample returns if
followed through careful and intelligent writing of many stories. In
dealing with this matter of manner or style, and the necessity that it
be in keeping with the particular story in hand, it is impossible to
give examples on account of lack of space. I can only refer the reader
to almost any fiction that has resisted the tooth of time. To leave
prose for a moment and turn to poetry, a reading of Milton's "L'Allegro"
and "Il Penseroso" will demonstrate the possibility and display the
result of adapting the manner to the matter. The style of both is
unmistakably Milton's alone, marked by his dignity and elevation of
tone, yet one is as sweet and light as a summer breeze, the other as
grave and sombre as a minor chord.

A reading of Jane Austen will prove profitable in this connection. Her
books are all of a piece in manner and matter. Perhaps the writer who
must please the somewhat hectic modern market will find little profit in
imitating her choice of matter, but the skill with which she weaves her
pattern will be instructive. Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights"
perfectly fits the garment to the body. The story is wild and its style
is wild. George Douglas's "The House With the Green Shutters," a more
recent book and one of singular power, is well done in this respect. It
is essentially rugged and bitter, and the author, though without
particular distinction of individual style, strikes no note not in
keeping with the general conception.

FOOTNOTES:

[G] I will note here a matter suggested rather than stated by the
general discussion, which is intended to be practical rather than
philosophical. Narration must be in the first or third person, but the
two fundamental types are personal and impersonal narration, and the
line between them is not drawn by the pronouns I and he. Truly, when the
story is told in the first person, the writer adopts the personal
viewpoint of the narrating character, but when the writer chooses to
write