2. The conclusion is like the introduction in that it admits of a more personal tone than does the body of the composition, establishing more or less intimate relations between writer and reader. It should usually be written. with some reference to the introduction too, answering questions or following out hints that were left in an inconclusive form there. The correspondence may be made very exact. If the introduction, for example, is historical, the conclusion may very appropriately be prophetic. But the conclusion must also keep close to the matter of the discussion, even closer than the introduction. No new matter of importance should be introduced here, unless the conclusion is only a temporary one, intended to pave the way for a sequel. One is surprised, for example, in reading a description of the Hawaiian Islands in which no mention has been made of music to find the following stand as the final paragraph:

One might spend weeks on these islands in sight-seeing and studying the people; but of all the scenes and customs with which the visitor becomes acquainted, probably the Hawaiians' rendering of their native music is the most pleasantly remembered.

It is clear why the writer selected this for the concluding statement: he desired to make it emphatic. But it arouses curiosity that is left unsatisfied. Had he written somewhat at length of native Hawaiian music he might well have returned to it thus in his conclusion; but it was wrong to mention the matter here for the first time.

3. The restriction just made must not be applied too rigorously. Actual abruptness is often good. Perhaps the weakest of all conclusions is that which rounds out too completely, which closes the discussion with the air of having said absolutely the last word. Not to say too much is the art of closing a story effectively. Kipling knows this

well; witness the last sentence of his "Cupid's Arrows": "But Cubbon took her away instead, and-the rest isn't worth printing." In Olive Schreiner's "Story of an African Farm the reader is left face to face with the tragedy of the tale in the simple statement, "But the chickens were wiser." Now there is no reason why this principle of suggestiveness may not be applied to essays also. There is nothing to forbid a writer from opening up to the reader new vistas of thought and imagination. It was a mistake, in the conclusion quoted above, to introduce the subject of native Hawaiian music, because the reader cannot follow it out for himself; but it is not wrong in the following-the conclusion of Edward Dowden's essay on "The Transcendental Movement "-to introduce the subject of George Eliot's novels, because the intelligent reader may be assumed to be familiar with them:

Meanwhile for the present one great imaginative writer represents at their highest the tendencies of our time, and, concentrating her vision upon this earth and the life of men, has seen in these good and evil, joy and anguish, terrors and splendors, as wonderful as ever appeared to any poet of transcendentalism. That the inductions of science and the ethics of positivism transform but do not destroy what is spiritual in man is demonstrated by the creations of "Romola" and "Daniel Deronda."

Suggestiveness and humor together are found in the following from an essay on "Railroad Competition and Combination":

It is all very well to talk of free competition and survival of the fittest. But permanent competition is virtually out of the question. And survival of the fittest is only possible when the unfittest can be physically removed-a thing which is impossible in the case of an unfit trunk line. The lion and the lamb must lie down together. The only questions are, first, how long before this state of things is to come about; and, second, whether the lion is to lie down outside of the lamb.

4. Let us look at several varieties of more formal conclusions. The frankly summarizing conclusion:

To recapitulate, then: I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as The Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is Taste. With the Intellect or with the Conscience it has only collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever either with Duty or with Truth.-E. A. POE: The Poetic Principle. Less distinctly summarizing, but clearly resuming:

Thus this singularly eccentric and independent mind, wedded to a character of so much strength, singleness, and purity, pursued its own path of self-improvement for more than half a century, part gymnosophist, part backwoodsman; and thus did it come twice, though in a subaltern attitude, into the field of political history.-R. L. STEVENSON: Henry David Thoreau. Restatement of important points for impressiveness:

In conclusion, my dear young friend, let me once more impress upon your mind that a political career is full of temptations and disappointments. I fear that for many years to come an honest man must be at a great disadvantage in our legislatures. He must resist the lobby which corrupts and the party organization which deceives. He must place his professional honor securely upon principle, not upon expediency. He must be prepared to be called all manner of names, and in the end, perhaps, to be rated a worldly failure.-W. D. MCCRACKAN: Politics as a Career. The Arena, January 1895.

Suggestions for the treatment of another phase of the subject, together with exhortation:

The limits of this article do not allow a statement of the details of the remedy. But it is clear that nothing will do short of a complete abolition of the system, and a legal requirement that manufacturers shall provide large, airy, well-lighted rooms in which the work shall be done. The thing for you and me to do is to make public opinion. Agitate, agitate, agitate! Show people the prevalence of this iniquity, and I have confidence that if it is exhibited once, twice, thrice, to a humane public the

sovereign decree will come forth, "Abolish it." And it would be done. God speed the day!—F. M. GOODCHILD: The Sweating System in Philadelphia. The Arena, January 1895.

EXERCISE.

Examine, for both merits and defects, the conclusions of the selections in the Appendix, especially B 111, v, 1x, XI, XIII, XIV, C XVI, XIX.

1.

THE PARAGRAPH.

NATUKE OF THE PARAGRAPH.

15. Technical Definition.--We have seen that the analysis of an organized composition shows it to consist of parts, "whole systems and sub-systems of parts," down to the simplest unit of formal discourse, the sentence. Now the sentence, in writing and printing, has its own distinguishing marks-the capital letter and the period. And it is evident that some device for indicating the larger units or parts will be of like utility. This device is found in what is technically called "paragraphing," in which the first line of the matter that is to constitute a separate paragraph is "indented" and the last line "spaced out." Further details will be found in Part V, on Mechanical Processes, section 62.

16. Logical Definition.-Paragraphing is a device that catches the eye, but, as just intimated, it has a significance back of that. The mistake should never be made of assuming that it is intended merely to break up a page and make it beautiful, as it were, by giving it a more open appearance. The open page may have more attraction for the desultory reader, and writers may allow themselves at times and within certain limits to be influenced by this consideration, but in no serious work should such a consideration make paragraphing wholly arbitrary and meaningless. The logical and legitimate paragraph is a unit, a group of sentences expressing ideas that are closely related

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