the appearance of some young men in such a way as to emphasize very rapidly the fact that, though not in uniform, they are soldiers. There are many details about them which are common to soldiers and to civilians. These I ignore. The details which I emphasize are these if I am as keen as Kipling:

The line of the chin-strap, that still showed white and untanned on cheekbone and jaw, the steadfast young eyes puckered at the corners of the lids with much staring through redhot sunshine, the slow, untroubled breathing, and the curious, crisp, curt speech.1

83. Coherence. As in other kinds of writing, so in description it is important that the parts should stick together. Particularly in description there is a temptation to enumerate details in helter-skelter fashion instead of combining them coherently. The result is an inventory rather than a description. Coherence is essential if you wish your readers to have a strong impression of the way a scene affects you.

The most natural method of progression is to arrange the details in the order in which they impress themselves on your senses. As a rule you should give the most striking details first for the sake of producing your dominant tone. You may then bring in less striking details, and echo the chief impression at the end. In certain cases it may be best to begin with particulars and build up the general impression. Sometimes you may begin with things near at hand and proceed to those far away; sometimes you may begin with things at a distance and

1 Kipling, "A Conference of the Powers." Quoted in J. H. Gar diner's Forms of Prose Literature.

draw steadily nearer to the foreground. eye" is the most useful advice.

"Follow the

Let us now watch some famous writers at work. Let us visit the scenes they describe, place ourselves at the points from which they view the scenes, and observe what salient details they select, what methods of arranging them they employ, and what words and figures they choose. When Eden Phillpotts looks over the Vale of Widecombe on Dartmoor, this is the way he paints the

scene:

[There] spread the Vale of Widecombe, within its granite cincture of great hills a dimple on the face of the earth, a cradle under a many-coloured quilt of little fields. Dim green and brown, the patchwork of meadow, arable, and fallow covered all, swept the valley, and climbed the foothills round about. ... Dark hedges outlined each croft, and shadow and sunshine swept alternately over them. . . . A road or two dropped into the valley, and where great Hameldon's featureless ridges undulated upon the northwest, brown forests hung and made a thick covering, like warm fur, for the shoulders of the hills. Trees also clustered in the valley, and amidst them sprang a granite tower. A spatter of cottages stood nigh the church and thinned away round about it; but they were innumerous, for more men and women dwelt in a zone of grey farms spread on the sides of the Vale than lived within the tiny thorp itself. The church tower dominated all. It lifted its shapely column above the glimmering roofs, and now, in the westering light of winter afternoon, dropped a shadow, four hundred yards long, across the village green into the river marshes.1

Here Phillpotts follows the order in which the details impress themselves upon us. First with a few sweeping

1 Eden Phillpotts, Widecombe Fair, ch. i.

strokes he sums up the general impression, and uses a figure of speech, based on keen observation, which fills the eye with the effect of the whole-" a many-coloured quilt of little fields." Then he begins to paint in the details the dark hedges, the road, the ridges of the hills, and (coming nearer) the trees clustered in the valley, the church tower, the spatter of cottages. He ends by quickly surveying the whole landscape-"grey farms spread on the sides of the Vale" - and by emphasizing the tower which "dominated all." This method is admirable, it is so natural. Note, too, how vividly the words picture the objects: "there spread the Vale," " a cradle under a many-coloured quilt," "the patchwork swept the valley and climbed the foothills," "hedges outlined," "a road dropped,” “trees clustered,” “amidst them sprang a granite tower," "a spatter of cottages," "thinned away, ""lifted its shapely column."

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In describing Chartres Cathedral, Henry James first expresses the dominant tone of the whole vertical effects " and "endless upward reach"- and then lets the eye climb in the most natural manner from the doors to the spires.

Like most French cathedrals, it rises straight out of the street, and is destitute of that setting of turf and trees and deaneries and canonries which contribute so largely to the impressiveness of the great English churches. . . The little square that surrounds it is deplorably narrow, and you flatten your back against the opposite houses in the vain attempt to stand off and survey the towers. . . . There is, however, perhaps an advantage in being forced to stand so directly under them, for this position gives you an overwhelming impression of their height. I have seen, I suppose, churches as beautiful