was a fountain, and all night long they drank. Ah, I tell you, our dead heard queer things. Nevertheless, riff-raff as they were, these bandits caused Paris much trouble, for their position was so strong. From time to time an order came to them: Fire on the Louvre ; fire on the Palais Royal.'

"Then the old man trained the cannon, and shots fell on the city. What passed in the city, none of us in the cemetery knew exactly. We heard the discharge of musketry approaching us by degrees, but the Federates were not uneasy. With the cross-fires from Chaumont, Montmartre, and Père-Lachaise, it did not seem possible to them that the troops from Versailles could advance. What brought them to their senses was the first shell which the Marines sent to us when they arrived upon the hill of Montmartre. It was so utterly unexpected. I was among the men, leaning against the tomb of Morny, smoking my pipe. Hearing the shell,

I had only time to cast myself on the ground. At first the gunners thought there had been a mistake in the firing; that some of their colleagues were drunk. But at the end of five minutes we beheld Montmartre again lighted up, and another bomb fell as plumb as the first. Upon that the fellows left their cannons and escaped as fast as their legs could carry them, crying, 'We are betrayed! We are betrayed!"

"The old man, left alone under the shells, struggled like a demon in the midst of his battery, and wept with rage at seeing that his gunners had deserted him. However, towards evening, several returned to him at pay hour. Here, sir, look on my sentry-box. Here are still the names of those who came to get their pay that evening. The old man called them off and wrote them down. As you see, there were not more than four or five men, but there were women with them. Ah! I shall never forget that night! There below, Paris was in flames, the Hotel de Ville, the Arsenal, the granaries. In Père-Lachaise we could see as if it had been daylight. The handful of Federates tried to shoot the cannon, but there were not enough of them, and besides, Montmartre made them afraid. Then they went into a vault and began to drink and

sing. The old man was seated between these two large statues which are at the door of the tomb of Favronne, and he looked at burning Paris with a terrible look. One would have said that he

foresaw that this night was his last.

"From this moment I do not know what happened. I went home to the little hut you see below there hidden by the branches. I was very tired. I lay down, all dressed, keeping my lamp burning, as one does in a stormy night. All at once some one knocked abruptly at the door. My wife went to open it, trembling. We believed that we still saw the Federates, but it was some Marines,

a captain, ensigns, and a doctor. They ordered me to get up and make them some coffee. I did so, and all the time I heard a murmuring in the cemetery, a confused movement, as if all the dead were awakened for the last judgment. The Marines drank

quickly, standing; then they led me out with them.

-

"The place was full of soldiers Marines. They put me at the head of a squad, and we began to search the cemetery, tomb by tomb. From time to time the soldiers, seeing the leaves move, shot down an avenue, at a bust, inside a railing. Here and there they discovered some unfortunate hidden in the corner of a chapel. He was soon done for. That is what happened to my gunners. I found them all, men and women, in a crowd before my sentrybox, the old man with the medals among them. It was not a cheering sight in the cold gray of the dawn. But what impressed me most was the long line of National Guards brought at that moment from the prison where they had passed the night. They ascended the great avenue slowly, like a funeral procession. Not a word was heard; not a complaint. The wretched men were so tired; there were some who slept while marching, and the idea that they were going to die did. not waken them. The Marines made them pass to the foot of the cemetery, and the shooting began. There were a hundred and forty-seven guards. You can imagine how long it lasted. That is what they call the battle of Père-Lachaise."

ADAPTED FROM THE FRENCH OF Alphonse Daudet.

I. The unity of this story is perfect. The subject is announced at the beginning and is kept before us from first to last. The narrative is pared down to a recital of bare events. For example, there is no unnecessary introduction; we understand from the first line that somebody has asked the guardian about the battle of PèreLachaise.

2. The fact that it is a personal narrative gives unity of interest. The story is told from one point of view. No one could narrate it better than the old guard of the graves. Note that the speaker suppresses unnecessary details. He comments only when it is essential to bring out the facts of the story. When he tells us how the old man looks at burning Paris, it is necessary to our understanding that he should add "as if he foresaw that this night was his last." His remark, "I shall never forget that night," which at first glance might seem superfluous, is really an aid in keeping the unity of the point of view.

3. The treatment of place helps the unity. When the guardian speaks of the "Hotel de Ville," "Morny's tomb," "Favronne's tomb," he refers to them again. His exhibition of the names on the sentry-box, which might seem unnecessary, is really of assistance in keeping us aware that the story is set in one place and is told on that spot.

4. The title suggests the central idea of the story. Note that a title is not expected to tell all that is in a story; its function is to suggest as nearly as possible what in general the story is about.

B

And David sat between the two gates; and the watchman went up to the roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold a man running alone. And the watchman cried, and told the king. And the king said, If he be alone, there is tidings in his mouth. And he came apace and drew near. And the watchman saw another man running: and the watchman called unto the porter, and said, Behold another man running alone. And the king said, He also bringeth tidings. And the watchman said, Methinketh the running of the foremost is like the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok. And the king said, He is a good man and cometh with good tidings. And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king, All is well. And he fell down to the earth upon his face before the king and said, Blessed be the Lord thy God, which hath delivered up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the king. And the king said, Is the young man Absalom safe? And Ahimaaz answered, When Joab sent the king's servant, and me thy servant, I saw a great tumult, but I knew not what it was. And the king said unto him, Turn aside and stand here. And he turned aside and stood still. And behold, Cushi came; and Cushi said, Tidings, my lord the king: for the Lord hath avenged thee this day of all them that rose up against thee. And the king said unto Cushi, Is the young man Absalom safe? And Cushi answered, The enemies of my lord the king and all that rise up against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is. And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!

2 Samuel xviii, 24–33.

I. The central idea of this selection is the grief of David when he hears of the death of Absalom. The anxiety of the father is continually kept before us; and

not a detail is introduced which could be omitted and yet leave the story complete and unified.

2. Not only is the unity of the events perfect, but also the unity of time and of place.

C

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne :
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific-and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise -
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

JOHN KEATS.

I. Note that this sonnet does not relate a story, but expresses a mood. It tells us how Keats felt on a certain occasion.

2. The first eight lines merely give facts which are necessary to make us understand the feeling. Keats had read a good deal of poetry, and had heard much about Homer, but had never read him till he saw Chapman's translation. Had the poet stopped here, we should have wondered how he liked the translation.