onfusion is
arrested by the local marshal as a Russian diamond robber. He
telegraphs to the Cabells, and Brook rescues him at the point of
the revolver, though he knows that the Northerner is Miss
Cabell's favorite.
These stories, even in this crude, condensed form, robbed of all the
beauties of imagery and expression, reveal the virtues which won for
them editorial approval and which contribute to the enjoyment of
their readers. Their apparent freshness is due to the treatment of a
thread-bare plot in a new phase, and the phase, in turn, depends upon
the introduction of some new element, unimportant in itself, perhaps,
which presents the old story in the new light. "The Folly of It" is
the best illustration, for though its plot is old and apparently
hopeless, the brightness and naturalness of the conversation which
constitutes almost the entire story makes it most readable. In
"Mulligan's Treachery" the personality of Mulligan gives the
necessary freshness. "The Pilot of the 'Sadie Simmons'" depends on
local color and the interest in Duncan's struggle to distinguish
right from wrong. And so some little freshness of treatment makes
each of the others a good story.
These vivifying elements are by no means extraordinary, or difficult to
find. They are new ideas concerning old subjects, such as you are
continually meeting in your everyday life and reading. A new character,
a new scene, a new invention or discovery, or merely a new mental bias
on the part of the writer, will work wonders in the revivifying of an
old plot. Think how many new phases of old plots have been produced
recently by the incorporation of the "X" ray, or by the influence of the
war with Spain. Try, then, to get a new light on the plot that you
purpose to use, to view it from an unexpected side, to handle it in an
unusual manner--in short, try to be original. If you have not the energy
or the ability to do this, you would better cease your literary efforts
at once, for you will only waste your time.
"But ... there are some themes so hackneyed--such as the lost will, the
glorified governess, or the persecuted maiden who turns out to be an
earl's daughter--that they would not now be tolerated outside the pages
of a 'penny dreadful,' where, along with haughty duchesses, elfin-locked
gypsies and murderous abductors, they have become part of the regular
stock-in-trade of the purveyors of back-stairs literature. The only
theme that nev
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