made this panic is Waterloo: every now and then you hear the growling of the cannon, and feel, hovering not far off, the dreadful shadow of Bonaparte. So in my little Tauchnitz edition - he writes for twentytwo pages, dwelling at greatest length on that part of his subject which he was best able to treat, and leaving in the reader's mind what every writer really wishes to leave there a deep sense of reality and of power. But this has not told his whole story. In the last page and a half he tells very briefly what had been doing in the field all this time; and in his very last paragraph-and the very last words of it-he tells the fact which makes the passage an essential part of his story. Here is the paragraph, and it is so placed that in the total effect of the chapter it remains the chief point of the whole:

"No more firing was heard at Brussels: the pursuit rolled miles away. The darkness came down on the field and city; and Amelia was praying for George, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through his heart." For skilful massing that chapter has always impressed me as notable. It is the space given to Brussels that emphasizes the part of the story which Thackeray could tell best; it is the placing of that single sentence about George Osborne - not even a sentence, only a relative clause-which leaves it once for all inevitably in the reader's memory.

In whole compositions, then, the question of mass -of how we should begin, how end, how arrange the

proportions of our work becomes more important and more delicate than before. On our management of it depends to an amazing degree what effects we produce with given material. It cannot be considered too carefully. And nothing has so assisted my con. sideration of it as that simple device with cards that show me, as I arrange them in different orders, what different effects are at any moment within my power.

So we come to the principle of Coherence: that the relation of each part of a composition to its neighbors should be unmistakable. In sentences and in paragraphs, we shall remember, we found that this matter of coherence depended on one or more of three devices: the actual order in which we arranged the parts of our compositions; uniformity of constructions; and the use of connectives. In whole compositions these three devices remain important; but the first and the third are more so than the second. The simplest way of considering them, perhaps, is to revert to the little packs of cards that I have said are so useful in deciding questions of mass. In arranging these it is not enough that we should give most space to what we wish most to impress on the reader, or put at the beginning and the end the matters we wish chiefly to emphasize. It is almost equally important that we arrange the separate parts of our compositions in this case, the separate paragraphs in an order that shall as far as possible indicate their mutual relations.

In certain kinds of writing, this mere arrangement will assure all the coherence that is necessary. In a novel, for example, or a simple historical narrative, it is often enough to arrange the parts that make up the whole in such order that each naturally leads from the last to the next; but whenever one gets into a kind of composition where one cannot move straight ahead, where one must gather together more than one thread of discourse, - other devices become necessary.

The device of parallel construction is at once less useful and more dangerous in whole compositions than in paragraphs. It is less useful because it is not nearly so perceptible; more dangerous because, if it is perceptible, it is apt to be more palpably artificial. And yet complete disregard of it may be decidedly confusing in effect. An article in a magazine that I lately glanced through will show what I mean. On the page where I happened to open the book I observed two paragraphs: "Thirdly," began one, "we believe this to be the case because," and so on. "Fourthly," and so on, began the next. Something in the text caught my attention. I turned back a page or two, in hopes of finding what the first and second headings were. But though beyond doubt there were first and second headings somewhere, they were never so described, nor, if there were such things in the article in question, were any headings after the fourth. These two paragraphs on which my eye happened first to fall chanced to stand

in just the same relation to the main proposition, and so were cast in a form superficially similar, and so were coherent in construction. But there were other paragraphs that by the very terms that demonstrated the coherence of these "thirdly" and " fourthly". must inevitably stand in just their relation to the main proposition; and the very change of construction which made them hard to find when I looked back to them made them hard to recognize in exactly their true character when I read the article straight forward. In such a series as I suggest here, perhaps the value of coherence in the constructions of whole compositions is most apparent. To phrase each of these separate headings in a notably similar way might well have been to grow palpably monotonous. To introduce each of them by its regular title"first," "secondly,” and so on—would certainly have gone a long way to obviate any other device for the securing of coherence.

And yet in the most finished models of composition such coherence as I have just suggested is discarded as too palpable. One of the most finished bits of composition I know is the passage from Burke's speech on Conciliation with America, which discusses the temper and character of America. At this point, it is worth analyzing in some detail: "In this character of the Americans," it begins, "a love of freedom is the predominating feature, . . . and this from a great variety of powerful causes." "First," begins the next paragraph, "the people of the colonies are de

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scendants of Englishmen. England, sir, is a nation which still, I hope, respects, and formerly adored her freedom," and so on for more than a page. "They were further confirmed in this pleasing error," begins the next paragraph, which might have begun "secondly," "by the form of their provincial legislative assemblies. Their governments are popular in a high degree." And this, too, he develops a little. 6. If anything were wanting to this necessary operation of the form of government," comes instead of thirdly," "religion would have given it a complete effect. . . . The religion most prevalent in our northern colonies is a refinement on the principle of resistance; it is the dissidence of dissent, and the Protestantism of the Protestant religion." And there is well on to a page of this. Sir," begins the next paragraph, — which might have begun "fourthly," "I can perceive that some gentlemen object to the latitude of this description, because in the southern colonies the Church of England forms a large body, and has a regular establishment. . . . There is, however, a circumstance attending these colonies which, in my opinion, fully counterbalances this difference. ... It is that in Virginia and the Carolinas they have a vast multitude of slaves. . . . Freedom is to them not only an enjoyment, but a kind of rank and privilege." And so on for half a page more. "Permit me,

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sir," instead of "fifthly," - begins the next paragraph," to add another circumstance in our colonies, which contributes no mean part towards the growth