to the manner of coupling the coherent details of the story: that is, to an analysis of its plot-structure. Taking it up episode by episode, we note the following facts:

Episode I covers in a general way the years from 1792, when the Reverend James Moore first came to Lexington, to 1814, the close of his life. Here we have a bird'seye view of the parson's simple life with the closing suggestion that it contained an event of unusual interest, -the bond coupling the episode with what follows.

Such having been the parson's fixed habit as long as any one had known him, it is hard to believe that five years before his death he abruptly ceased to play his flute and never touched it again. But from this point the narrative becomes so mysterious that it were better to have the testimony of witnesses.

In episode II we have an enlargement of what was indicated in this introduction, but expressed in vague terms, forming a conclusion to what has preceded, but indicating something to follow and thus leading the way to the story proper. The concluding words of the episode serve to couple it with what follows and to introduce the main action contained in episode III:

If any one should feel interested in having this whole mystery cleared up, he may read the following tale of a boy's violin.

In the third episode the main action centres about David on the day of the great lottery, Friday, August 31, 1809, about ten o'clock in the morning. During the episode the action reverts by three years to the time when David's father had died, and again by one year to the day when Mr. Leuba had promised to bestow on David the discarded violin. But these back-casts of the

action are wholly subordinate, and do not detract from the time-setting of the main episode.

The episode following, the fourth, brings the reader to a scene two hours later on this same Friday morning, again with two slight reversions to incidents occurring between this and the preceding occurrence, - David's visit home and the announcement of the drawing in the lottery. By the introduction of these two minor details the coherence becomes almost continuous, and the story is brought to the fifth episode.

This takes up the narrative and continues it through the afternoon and twilight of the same day.

The sixth takes the reader through the following day, Saturday, September 1, by four distinct and separate episodes of the second order (p. 28) as follows: (a) early in the day, at the church; (b) at dinner with the Leubas and their merry company; (c) in the afternoon, at the Museum; and (d) later, at home, where the parson executes the mystic manœuvres noted by observing eyes across the way, as described in the second episode of the story.

The next episode is introduced by a brief transitional paragraph:

A sad day it had been meantime for the poor lad.

The entire episode reverts from the point at which the preceding scene closed, Saturday afternoon, back to the morning of the same day, and concerns itself with the experiences of David, as the preceding has done with the parson. The fortunes of the little cripple follow in order: (a) in the morning, at home and at the Museum; (b) in the afternoon, at the Museum, at the parson's door (as already narrated in episode II) and again at the Museum; (c) about nightfall, at the end of the town,

at Leuba's store, and finally at home. This simultaneous ordering of vi and VII presents an example of the device referred to on page 56 and holds the action stationary for the time being.

Episode VIII resumes the story on Sunday morning, September 2, follows it through the morning and afternoon with David and through the evening at Mr. Moore's, and again reverts to David at the hour of the boy's death early on Monday morning. It then takes a leap to September 9, the Sunday following, and closes with a brief retrospect of the parson's remaining years (already quoted on page 61), a good example of the "concluding paragraph."

The story thus affords illustration of how the element of time, with slight modifications, secures the coherence of an "orderly recital." First a general survey of the action to its culmination, and then a reversion to the beginning, followed by a detailed recital of the successive events in their chronological order. The smooth and natural issuance of one episode from another, the close relation of each detail to what precedes and to what follows, shows further the close association between coherence and unity of action. With greater complication of incident and with more intricacy of massing so as to secure added interest would come the development of plot characteristic of the detective story or of the novel. Flute and Violin, however, with its general adherence to the actual sequence of time, is constructed after the method of veritable history,

CHAPTER IV

THE BACKGROUND OF THE ACTION: SETTING

IF one examines a complete piece of narration, — Maupassant's Happiness (Le Bonheur) for instance, he will, in most cases, be able to distinguish three separate elements that together constitute the story. First of all is the stage upon which the action takes / place, the background against which the scene is projected. This element is known as SETTING. In the story just cited it is represented by Corsica with its storm of mountains and rolling torrents, its high forests and desert soil, its untutored inhabitants, deaf and blind even to the crude arts of ordinary peasantry. Against this rude and inhospitable background the story of devoted love stands out in brilliant vividness. Setting is an integral part of the story: remove it, or even alter it, and the effect of the narrative is changed.

The second essential to the structure of a narrative is CHARACTER, and this is presented in the dramatis persona. In Maupassant's story this appears primarily in the aged hero and heroine, and subordinately in the several minor personages, such as the narrator, the Brisemares, the Sirmonts, etc.

The third element is PLOT, or the action participated in by the characters and projected upon the given setting. The main plot of Happiness is, of course, concerned with the elopement of Suzanne de Sirmont and the young hussar, and with their humble life on the bleak island of the Mediterranean.

These, then, are the three fundamentals of complete narrative writing: setting, character, plot. In some narratives one is elaborated at the expense of the others; in some, as in Happiness, each is distinct. Setting, from its very nature, does not exist for its own sake, being but the background for more important elements. Setting, indeed, is often entirely omitted, or, at least, so suppressed that some little study is necessary to detect it. The Parable of the Prodigal Son illustrates this. The "far country," the "riotous living," the "elder brother in the field," and the "sounds of music and dancing" suggest details easily capable of elaboration; but the story as it stands is constructed mainly on a foundation of character (the younger son, the father, the elder brother) and of plot (the spendthrift life, the repentance, the forgiveness).

Plot and character, usually with the aid of setting, divide between them much of the best narrative writing. This is well illustrated in extended prose fiction. We have, on the one hand, novels in which the principal stress is given to the personal element; and, on the other, those wherein deeds are all-important. Novelists like George Eliot and George Meredith afford illustrations of the first; Scott and Stevenson, of the second. Although Daniel Deronda and The Egoist present no small amount of setting and plot, yet, after all, in the portrayal of character the careful study of Gwendolyn Harleth and of Sir Willoughby Patterne - lies the main purpose. On the other hand, the principal concern of Scott and Stevenson is to tell a good story, to arouse interest in the action, not to dissect motives or to conduct psychologic experiments. Rob Roy and The Master of Ballantræ indeed contain many memorable scenes and present personalities vivid in their truth to actual life, but the for