the church in England. Disraeli traversed the field
of English politics in his "Coningsby" and "Endymion," as did Trollope
in his "Phineas Finn" and "Prime Minister." In his "Guardian Angel" and
"Elsie Venner" Oliver Wendell Holmes traces the effects of heredity, a
subject previously handled by Hawthorne in his "House of Seven Gables."
In this way we see that nearly every great practical question of general
interest may be discussed or portrayed in fiction.

(5) The _love story_ and the _story of adventure_ embrace a considerable
though unambitious part of fiction. The love story deals with courtship
and marriage. As a rule, after encountering more or less opposition or
difficulty, the lovers are at last happily united. A thread of love
usually runs through all the more ambitious types of fiction, for it is
a source of universal interest that cannot lightly be set aside; but in
the love story it is the central and dominant interest.

The story of adventure consists of a succession of interesting or
thrilling incidents. The type of this species of fiction is Defoe's
"Robinson Crusoe." The new romantic movement already referred to lays
much stress on a rapid succession of exciting incidents. This is
illustrated by Hope's "Prisoner of Zenda" or by most of R. L.
Stevenson's works, of which "Kidnapped" and "The Master of Ballantrae"
may be taken as fair examples.

(6) _Naval fiction_ belongs to the sea. It is an interesting field,
though somewhat limited in its range of character and incident. The sea
itself, with its magnificent and changing moods, is a sublime object.
The restricted life on shipboard--the telling of yarns beneath the
starlit skies, the spirit of mingled superstition and daring, the prompt
and brave activities attending a storm, and, above all, the excitement
and dangers of battle--has for the landsman a peculiar charm.

Novelists of the sea are not numerous; for, in order to be in the best
sense successful, the writer must have had a seafaring experience. James
Fenimore Cooper, who had been in the navy, criticised Scott's "Pirate"
as the work of a landsman. He undertook to produce a genuine story of
the sea in his "Pilot," which, whatever else may be its defects, is
correct in sailor's lingo and briny flavor. He was no less successful in
"The Red Rover," the scenes of which antedate the Revolution. But the
prince of marine novelists is unquestionably Frederick Marryat, whose
"Peter Simple," "Jacob Faith