Part 1

MODERN SHORT STORIES

A BOOK FOR HIGH SCHOOLS

EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES

BY

FREDERICK HOUK LAW, Ph.D.

Lecturer in English in New York University, and Head of the Department of English in the Stuyvesant High School, New York City

Publisher’s Logo

NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1921

Copyright, 1918, by THE CENTURY CO.

PREFACE

For many years high school teachers have wished for books of short stories edited for high school use. They have known that most novels, however interesting, are too long to hold attention, and that too few novels can be read to give proper appreciation of form in narration. The essay, as seen in _The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers_, and in Irving’s _Sketch Book_, has been a poor substitute for the short story. High school students have longed for action, for quickness, for life, for climax, for something new and modern. Instead, they have had hundreds of pages, long expositions, descriptions, leisurely treatment, and material drawn from the past. They have read such material because they must, and have turned, for relief, to short stories in the cheaper magazines.

The short story is to-day our most common literary product. It is read by everyone. Not every boy or girl will read novels after leaving school, but every boy or girl is certain to read short stories. It is important in the high school to guide taste and appreciation in short story reading, so that the reading of days when school life is over will be healthful and upbuilding. This important duty has been recognized in all the most recent suggestions for high school reading. The short story is just beginning to take its important place in the high school course. To make use of a book of short stories in high school work is to fall in line with the most modern developments in the teaching of literature in the high school.

Most collections of short stories that have been prepared, for school use, up to the present, are more or less alike in drawing much of their material from the past. Authors and content alike are dead. Here is a collection that is entirely modern. The authors represented are among the leading authors of the day, the stories are principally stories of present-day life, the themes are themes of present-day thought. The students who read this book will be more awake to the present, and will be better citizens of to-day.

The great number of stories presented has given opportunity to illustrate different types of short story writing. What could not be done by the class study of many novels may be accomplished by the study of the different stories in this book. The student will gain a knowledge of types, of ways of construction, of style, that he could not gain otherwise except by long-continued study. Class study of the short story leads inevitably to keen appreciation of artistic effects in fiction.

The introductory material, biographies, explanations, and notes, have been made purely for high school students, in order to help those who may have read comparatively little, so that,—instead of being turned aside forever by a dry-as-dust treatment,—they may wish to proceed further in their study.

It is always pure delight to teach the short story to high school classes, but it is even more delightful when the material is especially fitted for high school work. This book, we hope, will aid both teachers and pupils to come upon many happy hours in the class room.

The editor acknowledges, with thanks, the kindly permissions to use copyright material that have been granted by the various authors and publishers. Complete acknowledgments appear in the table of contents.

CONTENTS

PAGE PREFACE iii INTRODUCTION

I Our National Reading vii

II The Definition vii

III The Family Tree of the Short Story ix

IV A Good Story xi

V What Shall I Do with This Book? xiii

VI Where to Find Some Good Short xv Stories

VII Some Interesting Short Stories xvi

VIII What to Read about the Short Story xix

THE ADVENTURES OF SIMON AND SUSANNA — 3 _Joel Chandler Harris_ From “Daddy Jake and the Runaways.”

THE CROW-CHILD — _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 9 From “The Land of Pluck.”

THE SOUL OF THE GREAT BELL — _Lafcadio 17 Hearn_ From “Some Chinese Ghosts.”

THE TEN TRAILS — _Ernest Thompson Seton_ 22 From “Woodmyth and Fable.”

WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO — 23 _Count Leo Tolstoi_ From “Tales and Parables.”

WOOD-LADIES — _Perceval Gibbon_ From 38 “Scribner’s Magazine.”

ON THE FEVER SHIP — _Richard Harding 53 Davis_ From “The Lion and the Unicorn.”

A SOURCE OF IRRITATION — _Stacy 69 Aumonier_ From “The Century Magazine.”

MOTI GUJ—MUTINEER — _Rudyard Kipling_ 84 From “Plain Tales from the Hills.”

GULLIVER THE GREAT — _Walter A. Dyer_ 92 From “Gulliver the Great and Other Stories.”

SONNY’S SCHOOLIN’ — _Ruth McEnery 105 Stuart_ From “Sonny, a Christmas Guest.”

HER FIRST HORSE SHOW — _David Gray_ From 117 “Gallops 2.”

MY HUSBAND’S BOOK — _James Matthew 135 Barrie_ From “Two of Them.”

WAR — _Jack London_ From “The 141 Night-Born.”

THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS — _Morgan 147 Robertson_ From “Where Angels Fear to Tread.”

A DILEMMA — _S. Weir Mitchell_ From 160 “Little Stories.”

THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE — _A. Conan Doyle_ 166 From “Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.”

ONE HUNDRED IN THE DARK — _Owen Johnson_ 192 From “Murder in Any Degree.”

A RETRIEVED REFORMATION — _O. Henry_ 212 From “Roads of Destiny.”

BROTHER LEO — _Phyllis Bottome_ From 221 “The Derelict and Other Stories.”

A FIGHT WITH DEATH — _Ian Maclaren_ 238 From “Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush.”

THE DÀN-NAN-RÒN — _Fiona Macleod_ From 248 “The Dominion of Dreams, Under the Dark Star.”

NOTES AND COMMENTS 275

SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS FOR CLASS USE 296

INTRODUCTION

I

OUR NATIONAL READING

Is there anyone who has not read a short story? Is there anyone who has not stopped at a news-stand to buy a short-story magazine? Is there anyone who has not drawn a volume of short stories from the library, or bought one at the book-store? Short stories are everywhere. There are bed-time stories and fairy stories for little children; athletic stories, adventure stories, and cheerful good-time stories for boys and girls; humorous stories for those who like to laugh, and serious stories for those who like to think. The World and his Wife still say, “Tell me a story,” just as they did a thousand years ago. Our printing presses have fairly roared an answer, and, at this moment, are busy printing short stories. Even the newspapers, hardly able to find room for news and for advertisements, often give space to re-printing short stories. Our people are so fond of soda water that some one has laughingly called it our national drink. Our people of every class, young and old, are so fond of short stories that, with an equal degree of truth, we may call the short story our national reading.

II

THE DEFINITION

The short story and the railroad are about equally old,—or, rather, equally new, for both were perfected in distinctly recent times. The railroad is the modern development of older ways of moving people and goods from one place to another,—of litters, carts, and wagons. The short story is the modern development of older ways of telling what actually had happened, or might happen, or what might be imagined to happen,—of tales, fables, anecdotes, and character studies. A great number of men led the way to the locomotive, but it remained for the nineteenth century, in the person of George Stephenson, to perfect it. In like manner, many authors led the way to the short story of to-day, but it remained for the nineteenth century, and particularly for Edgar Allan Poe, to perfect it, and give it definition.

Before Poe’s time the short story had sometimes been written well, and sometimes poorly. It had often been of too great length, wandering, and without point. Poe wrote stories that are different from many earlier stories in that they are all comparatively short. Another difference is that Poe’s stories do not wander, producing now one effect, and now another. Like a Roman road, every one goes straight to the point that the maker had in mind at the beginning, and produces one single effect. In the older stories the writers often turned from the principal subject to introduce other matter. Poe excluded everything,—no matter how interesting,—that did not lead directly to the effect he wished to produce. The earlier stories often ended inconclusively. The reader felt that more might be said, or that some other ending might be possible. Poe tried to write so that the story should be absolutely complete, and its ending the one necessary ending, with no other ending even to be thought of. With it all, he tried to write so that,—no matter how improbable the story really might be,—it should, at least, seem entirely probable,—as real as though it had actually happened.

In general, Poe’s definition of the short story still holds true. There are many kinds of stories to-day,—just as there are many kinds of engines,—but the great fundamental principles hold true in both. We may still define the modern short story as:

1. A narrative that is short enough to be read easily at a single sitting;

2. That is written to produce a single impression on the mind of the reader;

3. That excludes everything that does not lead to that single impression;

4. That is complete and final in itself;

5. That has every indication of reality.

III

THE FAMILY TREE OF THE SHORT STORY

Everyone knows his father and mother. Very few, except those of noble descent, know even the names of their great-great grandparents. As if of the noblest, even of royal descent, the short story knows its family tree. Its ancestry, like that of the American people, goes back to Europe; draws strength from many races, and finally loses itself somewhere in the prehistoric East,—in ancient Greece, India, or Egypt.

In the royal galleries kings look at pictures of their great ancestors, and somewhat realize remote the past. Many of the ancestors of the short story still live. They drank of the fountain of youth, and are as strong and full of life as ever. Such immortal ancestors of the short story of to-day are _The Story of Polyphemus_ (ninth century, B.C.), _The Story of Pandora and her Box_ (ninth century, B.C.), _The Book of Esther_ (second century, B.C.), _The City Mouse and the Country Mouse_ (first century, B.C.), and _The Fables of Æsop_ (third century, A. D.). There are still existing many Egyptian short stories, some of which are of the most remote antiquity, the _Tales of the Magicians_ going back to 4000 B.C.

All the stories just named,—and many others equally familiar, drawn from every ancient land,—affected the short story in English.

In the earliest days in England, in the fifth and in a few succeeding centuries, the priests made collections of short stories from which they could select illustrative material for the instruction of their hearers. They drew many such stories from Latin, which, in turn, had drawn them from still more ancient sources. Then, or a little later, came folk stories, romantic stories of adventure, and other stories for mere amusement.

In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the Italians became very skilful in telling short stories, or “novelle.” Their “new” tales had a lasting effect on short story telling in English.

Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_, in the fourteenth century, although in verse, told in a most delightfully realistic way all kinds of stories from all kinds of sources, particularly from the literatures of Italy and of France. Chaucer told his stories so remarkably well, with such humor and reality, that he is one of the great forces in the history of the short story in English.

In the sixteenth century stories from France, Spain, and other lands, also gave new incentives to the development of the short story in English.

In the eighteenth century Addison’s _Spectator_ published very short realistic narratives that often presented closely drawn character studies. These are hardly to be called short stories, but they influenced the short story form.

About the beginning of the nineteenth century, partly because of German influence, it became the fashion to write stories of mystery and horror, such as many of those by Irving, Hawthorne, and Poe. Irving softened such stories by the touch of realistic humor; Hawthorne gave them artistic form and nobility; Poe developed the full value of the short story as a literary type, and pointed out the five principles named above. The genius of these men led the way to the modern short story.

Since their time the short story has moved on in its development, including every kind of subject, tending to speak more and more realistically of persons and places, but not losing its romantic nature. Popular short stories of to-day are closely localized, and are frequently quick, incisive, and emphatic.

to-day there are all kinds of short stories,—folk-lore tales, local color stories, animal stories, humorous stories, stories of society, of satire, of science, of character, of atmosphere, and scores of other types, all virile, interesting, and profitable.

However well-dressed the modern short story may be in form and style, it is worth little, unless, like its immortal ancestors, it has the soul of goodness, truth, and beauty, and does something to reveal nobility in the life of man.

IV

A GOOD STORY

With houses and stories it is much the same. As any one may build a hut, so any one may compose a short story. In both cases the materials may be common and cheap, and the construction careless. The one may give shelter from the storm, and the other may hold attention for a moment. Neither may be worth much. Somewhat better are the ordinary house, and the ordinary story. Both are good, and fairly well constructed, but the material is frequently commonplace, and the general characteristics ordinary. To lift either a house or a story out of the ordinary there must be fine material, artistic workmanship, close and tender association with life,—something beautiful, or good, or true. For the highest beauty there is need of something other than obedience to rule in construction. Any architect can tell how to build a beautiful house, but there is a fine beauty no mere architect can give, a beauty that comes with years, or the close touch of human joys and sorrows. It is the same with stories. We can not analyze the finer quality, but we can, at least, tell some of the characteristics that make short stories good.

As Poe said, the best short story is short enough to be read at a sitting, so that it produces a single effect. It includes nothing that does not lead to that effect, and it produces the effect as inevitably as an arrow flies to its mark. The ending is necessary, the one solution to which everything has moved from the beginning. In some way the story is close to life, and is so realistically told that the reader is drawn into its magic, and half believes it real.

It has a combination of plot and characters,—the nature of the characters making the action, and the action affecting the persons involved.

Without action of some sort there would, of course, be no story, but the action,—usually built up of two opposing forces,—must be woven into plot, that is, into a combination of events that lead to a definite result, perhaps not known at first by the reader, but known from the beginning by the author. The plot is somewhat simple, for the story is too short to allow of much complexity. The action and the characters are based on some experience, imaginary or otherwise, and are honestly presented. In the best short story there is no pronounced artificiality or posing.

There is always a certain harmony of content, so that plot and characters work together naturally, every detail strictly in keeping with the nature of the story.

The best story has an underlying idea,—not necessarily a moral,—a thought or theme, very often concerned with ideals of conduct, that can be expressed in a sentence.

Closely associated with everything is an indefinable something, that rises from the story somewhat as the odor of sandalwood rises from an oriental box, a sort of fragrance, or charm, a deeply appealing characteristic that we call “atmosphere.”

Some stories may emphasize one point, and others another,—the plot, the characters, the setting, the theme, or the atmosphere. As they vary thus they reveal new lights, colors, and effects.

Still more do they vary in the charm that comes from apt choice of words, and originality or beauty of phrasing.

Altogether, the best short story is truly an artistic product. The old violins made in Cremona by Antonius Stradivarius have such perfect harmony of material and form, and were made with such loving skill, that they are vibrant with tenderly beautiful over-tones. So the best short story is perfectly harmonious in every part, is made from chosen material, is put together with sympathetic care, and is rich with the over-tones of love, and laughter, and sorrow.

V

WHAT SHALL I DO WITH THIS BOOK?

Here is a book of more than twenty excellent short stories, not one of which was written with the slightest thought that any one would ever wish to study it as part of school work. Every story was written (1) because its author had a story to tell, (2) because he had a definite aim in telling the story, (3) because he felt that by certain methods of form and style he could interest and delight his readers. The magician opens his box, and holds the ring of spectators enthralled. Here is no place for study. One must simply stand in the circle, and look, and wonder, enjoy to his utmost, and applaud the entertainer when he makes his final bow. But the spectator is always privileged to look, not only idly but also as sharply as he pleases. So the reader is entitled to notice in every case the three reasons for writing the story.

The best way, then, to study this book is not to “study” it. It is not a geography, nor a book of rules, nor any kind of book to be memorized. It is a book to be read with an appreciative mind and a sympathetic heart. Read the stories one by one in the order in which they are printed. Read with the expectation of having a good time,—that is what every author intended you to have. But keep your eyes open. Make sure you really know the story the author is telling. One way of testing your understanding is to tell the story in a very few words, either orally or in writing, so that some friend, who has not read it, may know the bare story, and know it clearly. If you find yourself confused, or if you lose yourself in details and can not tell the story briefly, you have not found the story the author has to tell.

A second test is to tell in one sentence, or in one very short paragraph, exactly what purpose the writer had in telling the story. This will be more difficult but it will need little thought if you really have understood and appreciated the story. Do not make the mistake of thinking that a purpose must be a moral. A man who makes a chair, a clown in a circus, an artist, a violinist, a boy playing a game,—all have purposes in what they do, but the purpose is not primarily moral. If you are puzzled in finding the purpose of the story you should look the story over until its purpose flashes upon you.

Thirdly, you should see if you can put into four or five unconnected sentences, either oral or written, the methods of form and style by which the author has interested you, and pleased you. These methods will include means of awakening interest, means of presenting the action, preparation for the climax, way of telling the climax, and way of ending the story. They will also include choice of words, use of language effects, and the means of producing atmosphere in the story.

If it happens that there are words that are not familiar, look them up in the dictionary. You can not hope to understand a story until you understand its language.

A good way to test your appreciation of story telling as an art,—and to help you to appreciate even more keenly,—is to write short stories of your own. Try, in every case, to imitate some method employed in a particular story by a well-known author. Do not imitate too much. Be original. Be yourself. If some of our best short story writers had done nothing but imitate they would never have succeeded. Make your short stories different from those by anyone else in your class. Write your story in such a way that no one will draw pictures, or look out of the window, or whisper to his neighbor, when it comes your turn to read. There are three ways to bring that about:

1. Write about something that you, and your class, know about, and like to hear about.

2. Think of a good, emphatic, or surprising climax, and then make a plot that will lead to the climax with absolute certainty.

3. Tell your story in a way that will be different from the way employed by any of your classmates.

In general, the stories in this book are to be read and enjoyed, worked over, and talked about, in a simple manner, as one might discuss stories at a reading club. To treat the stories in any other way would be to make displeasing work out of what should be pure pleasure.

In the back of the book is a small amount of biographical and explanatory material, such as a friendly teacher might tell to his class. There are also a few questions that will help you to appreciate and enjoy the best effects in every story. The notes have been given merely for reference, as if they were contained in a sort of handy encyclopedia. They are not for hard, systematic study.

A class studying this book should forget that it is a class in school, and resolve itself into a reading club, whose object,—written in its constitution, in capital letters,—is pure enjoyment of all that is best in short stories, and in short story telling.

VI

WHERE TO FIND SOME GOOD SHORT STORIES

Baldwin, Charles American Short Sears Stories

Cody, Sherwin The World’s Best Short Stories

Dawson, W. J. and C. Great English Short W. Story Writers