were in use to come and rest as they went through to Ireland. The name of this rock is called the Skerryvore, and it's not far from where we suffered shipwreck. Well, it seems the man cried so sore, if he could just see his little bairn before he died that at last the king of the Good People took peety on him, and sent one flying that brought back the bairn in a poke1 and laid it down beside the man where he lay sleeping. So when the man woke, there was a poke beside him and something into the inside of it that moved. Well, it seems he was one of those gentry that think aye the worst of things; and for greater security, he stuck his dirk throughout that poke before he opened it, and there was his bairn dead. I am thinking to myself, Mr. Balfour, that you and the man are very much alike.”

-R. L. STEVENSON: Kidnapped, chap. xviii.

Character and Plot.

91. Not less interesting than the suspense of the plot is the revelation of striking traits of character. The insides of men's minds are hidden from us. Their words give us but a faint idea of their real thoughts and feelings and motives. We are always eager to probe the mystery. Now comes the novelist, a Thackeray or a George Eliot, and with a stroke lays bare the inmost recesses of his hero's mind. The effect is startling. It is like looking into the depths of the sea and finding there unsuspected beauties and horrors.

Certain characters lend themselves more readily to the purposes of plot construction than do other characters. Certain qualities of mind bring people into conflict with their fellow-men. For example, a cautious, unam

bitious man with all his wits about him will manage to slip through the world and into his grave without a single adventure; but a highly ambitious, impulsive, mettlesome person, with some striking defects of character, will make out of life one long Donnybrook Fair. A good illustration of this latter type of character is seen in Alan Breck, the friend of David Balfour, in Stevenson's Kidnapped. No matter what company he is in, he is always on the verge of a quarrel.

The springs and impulses to action on the part of the characters are known as their motives. It is important that the motives and the acts should coincide. If the character does something without reason, we say that a motive is lacking. For example, to make a character say something funny just because you happen to think of something funny that you want to put into the story; to make another commit a crime just because you want a crime committed in that part of the story, is to disregard the motives. Sometimes, however, the motives are concealed throughout the course of the narrative, and come to light only at the close. This is illustrated in a rather amusing way by the following selection:

Mr. W. H. Hudson writes agreeably in Longman's of Selborne Revisited, and tells incidentally an owl story which Gilbert White himself need not have shamed to own. Mr. Hudson, verifying an admiration of the author of Selborne, went out at dusk to see Alton Church. A shower came as he stood in the churchyard.

"By and by a vague figure appeared out of the clouds, travelling against the wind towards the spire, and looking more like a ragged piece of newspaper whirled about the heavens than any living thing. It was a white owl, and

after watching him for some time I came to the conclusion that he was trying to get to the vane on the spire. A very idle ambition it seemed, for although he succeeded again and again in getting to within a few yards of the point aimed at, he was on each occasion struck by a fresh violent gust and driven back to a great distance, often quite out of sight in the gloom. But presently he would reappear, still struggling to reach the vane. A crazy bird! but I could not help admiring his pluck, and greatly wondered what his secret motive in aiming at that windy perch could be. And at last, after so many defeats, he succeeded, and grasped the metal cross-bar with his crooked talons. The wind, with all its fury, could not tear him from it, and after a little flapping he was able to pull himself up; and then, bending down, he deliberately wiped his beak on the bar and flew away! This, then, had been his powerful, mysterious motive—just to wipe his beak, which he could very well have wiped on any branch or barn roof or fence, and saved himself that tremendous labor!

"This was an extreme instance of the tyrannous effect of habit on a wild animal. Doubtless this bird had been accustomed, after devouring his first mouse, to fly to the vane, where he could rest for a few minutes, taking a general view of the place, and wipe his beak at the same time; and the habit had become so strong that he could not forego his visit even on so tempestuous an evening. His beak, if he had wiped it anywhere but on that lofty cross-bar, would have seemed not quite clean."

92.

Assignments on Character.

A. In the following narrative what are the principal traits of character of the registrar? of the registrar's mother? How are these traits brought out in the story? Can you see the registrar's face as it appeared, first, when he caught up the piece of turf, and

second, when his mother rushed out of the cottage? Describe his expression at each of these junctures.

The Registrar's mother lived in the fishing-village, two miles down the coombe. Her cottage leant back against the cliff so closely, that the boys, as they followed the path above, could toss tabs of turf down her chimney; and this was her chief annoyance.

Now, it was close on the dinner-hour, and she stood in her kitchen beside a pot of stew that simmered over the wreck-wood fire.

Suddenly a great lump of earth and grass came bouncing down the chimney, striking from side to side, and soused into the pot, scattering the hot stew over the hearthstone and splashing her from head to foot.

Quick as thought, she caught up a besom and rushed around the corner of the cottage.

"You stinking young adders!" she began.

A big man stood on the slope above her.

"Mother, cuff my head, that's a dear. I couldn't help doin' it."

It was the elderly Registrar. His hat, collar, tie, and waistcoat were awry; his boots were slung on the walkingstick over his shoulder; stuck in his mouth and lit was a twist of root-fibre, such as country boys use for lack of cigars, and he himself had used, forty years before.

The old woman turned to an ash color, leant on her besom and gasped :

"William Henry!"

"I'm not drunk, mother; been a Band of Hope these dozen years." He stepped down the slope to her and bent his head low. "Box my ears, mother, quick! You used to have a wonderful gift o' cuffin'."

"William Henry, I'm bound to do it or die." "Then be quick about it."

Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she caught him a feeble cuff, and next instant held him close to her old breast. The Registrar disengaged himself after a minute, brushed his eyes, straightened his hat, picked up the besom, and offered her his arm. They passed into the cottage together.

-QUILLER-COUCH: "When the Sap Rose" (in The
Delectable Duchy).

B. What traits of character are brought out most clearly in each of the following anecdotes, and by what methods? Describe the expression and appearance of the little girl when she says, “I don't believe the story about the wolf;" of William Penn and the king, when the king makes his reply; of Wendell Phillips when the slave gives his reason for remaining; of the ancient monk when he sees that the lamp has been extinguished. Find for each story a title derived from the traits of character exhibited by the actors.

1. Here is an interesting anecdote of Jacob Grimm. Some of our readers will remember that one of his prettiest tales ends with the words "whoever refuses to believe this story owes me a thaler." One winter morning a little Jewish girl rang the door-bell and asked the servant if Herr Professor Jacob Grimm was at home. When informed that he was not, she said politely, "Will you please hand him this thaler when he returns?" The servant took the coin, glanced at it curiously, and inquired who sent it and what it was for. "I owe him the money myself," said the little girl. "Why? What for?"

story about the wolf.”

"Because I don't believe the

2. Charles the Second once granted an audience to the courtly Quaker, William Penn, who, as was his custom, entered the royal presence with his hat on. The humorous sovereign quietly laid aside his own, which occasioned Penn's inquiry: "Friend Charles, why dost thou remove thy hat?"