a busy corner in a city to fill a volume; yet these pictures
and these bits of conversation, interesting as each in itself might
be, would not be a unit,--not one story, but many. Few persons,
indeed, would write anything so disjointed as the report made by this
phonograph; yet good writers are often led astray by the brilliancy of
their own ideas. They have so many good stories on hand which they
would like to tell, that they force some of them into their present
story, and so spoil two stories. In the very popular "David Harum," it
would puzzle any one to know why the author has introduced the ladies
from the city and the musical party at the lake. The episode is good
enough in itself; but in this story it has not a shadow of excuse.
There is a phrase of Kipling's that should ring in every
story-teller's ears. Not once only, but a number of times, this prince
of modern story-tellers catches himself--almost too late
sometimes--and writes, "But that is another story." One incident calls
up another; paragraph follows paragraph naturally. It is easy enough
to look back and trace the road by which the writer arrived at his
present position; yet it would be very hard to tell why he came
hither, or to see how the journey up to this point will at all put him
toward his destination. He has digressed; he has left the road. And he
must get back to the road. By this digression he has wasted just as
much time as it has taken to come from the direct road to this point
added to the time it will take to go back. Do not digress; tell one
story at a time; let no incident into your story which cannot answer
the question, "Why are you here?" by "I help;" keep your eye on the
main incident; things which do not unquestionably contribute something
to the main incident should be excluded.

Introductions and Conclusions.

The choice of the main incident towards which all other incidents
converge will rid compositions of worthless introductions and trailing
conclusions. A story should get under way at once; and any
explanations at the beginning, the introduction of long descriptions
or tedious paragraphs of "fine writing," will be headed off if the
pupil keeps constantly in mind that it must all lead directly toward
the main incident. Again, if everything converges to the main
incident, when that has been told the story is finished. After that
there must be no explanations, no moralizing, nothing. When the story
has been told it is a good