Coherence

Coherence (from Bailey, Edward P. and Philip A. Powell, The Practical Writer, 8^th ed. New York: Thomson, 2003)

Paragraphs need more than unity. They must also have coherence. The best way to define coherence is to look at its opposite: incoherence. If a woman runs into a room screaming, "Fire! Dog! House!" we call her incoherent. Does she mean that a dog is on fire in the house? Or that the house is on fire with the dog inside? Or that a doghouse is on fire? We don't know. Although the woman apparently has some important ideas she wishes desperately to communicate, she has left out the essential links of thought. Coherence requires including those links.

This lecture discusses three important ways to achieve coherence in a one-paragraph essay:

·      explanation of the support

·      reminders of the opinion in the topic sentence

·      transitions

These important techniques will help your readers move smoothly from idea to idea within your paragraph. Then, when your doghouse catches on fire, you'll know exactly how to call for help.

EXPLANATION OF THE SUPPORT

Don't assume that your readers are specially gifted people able to read minds. You must not only present the support to the readers but also explain how it is related to the topic sentence. In other words, you must link your support— clearly and unambiguously—to the topic sentence. The author of the following paragraph does not try to explain his support at all, apparently hoping that his readers are clairvoyant:

First Try

In the early morning, I am easily annoyed by my roommate. I have to shut the ice-covered windows. A white tornado of dandruff swirls around the room. A mass of smoke from cigarettes hovers near the door. No wonder I find my roommate annoying.

No wonder, indeed! The paragraph is incoherent because the author has failed to explain how his support relates to the topic sentence. Does he mean that his roommate is annoying because he does not close the window in the morning? Or is he annoying because he opens the window every night, even in winter, thus causing the writer to be cold in the morning? And who has dandruff, and who smokes? Is it the roommate, or is it the author, who is upset because the roommate does not understand? After all, the author may be doing the best he can to get rid of thedandruff, and he is smoking heavily only because he is trying to distract himself after waking up every morning in a cold room. By being incomplete, by not explaining the support fully, the paragraph demands too much of readers. Let's guess what the writer really meant and revise the paragraph to add coherence.

Second Try

In the early morning, I am easily annoyed by my roommate. I have to shut the ice-covered windows that John, my roommate, insists on opening every night, even during the winter. A white tornado swirling around the room shows me that his dandruff problem is still in full force. A mass of smoke from John's pack-a-dayhabit hovers near the door. No wonder I find my roommate annoying.

We have now explained that John, the roommate, is guilty of the indiscretions.

The coherence is improved greatly, but the paragraph still needs work.

REMINDERS OF THE OPINIONIN THE TOPIC SENTENCE

Here we will make an assumption about readers: readers, like all of us, prefer being mentally lazy. They don't like remembering too much at once. While they read the support, they like occasional reminders of the opinion in the topic sentence so that they will remember why they are reading that support. We can remind them of the topic sentence's opinion with either of two techniques at the beginning of each item of support:

. We can repeat the exact words of the opinion.

. We can use other words that suggest the opinion.

In the sample paragraph about the roommate, we can use the word annoy in presenting each example, or we can use words such as disgusted or choking on stale smoke, which suggest annoyance. Notice the reminders in the revised paragraph:

Third Try

In the early morning, I am easily annoyed by my roommate. I am annoyed each time I have to shut the ice-covered windows that John, my roommate, insists on opening every night, even during the winter. A disgusting white tornado swirling around the room shows me that his dandruff problem is still in full force. A choking mass of stale smoke from John's pack-a-day habit hovers near the door. No wonder I find my roommate annoying. By reminding the readers that each example presents something annoying, the paragraph becomes more coherent.

TRANSITIONS

Each example in the sample paragraph now has a clear explanation of the support and a reminder of the opinion in the topic sentence, but the paragraph is still rough. It moves like a train with square wheels, chunking along abruptly from idea to idea. To help the paragraph move more smoothly, we must add transitions.

Transitions are like road signs that tell readers where they are going. If you live in Victoria and wish to drive north to Port Alberni, you don't want to stop to ask people to find out if you are on the right road. You would rather have road signs.

Similarly, readers don't want to run into an example that slows them because they don't understand how it relates to the previous example or, worse yet, how it relates to the topic sentence. In a paragraph, the road sign could behowever to tell readers that the next idea is going to contrast with the one just presented; or it could be also to tellreaders that another idea like the preceding one is about to be presented; or it could be therefore to tell readers to prepare for a conclusion.

These and other transitions will keep your reader from losing valuable time because she has to stop, or, if she takes a chance and presses on, from arriving nowhere, which is where she may end her trip through a paragraph without transitions.

Common Transitions

To add an idea: also, and, another, equally important, finally, furthermore, in addition, last, likewise, moreover, most important, next, second, third

To give an example: for example, for instance, as an illustration, as a case in point, consider ...

To make a contrast: and yet, but, however, instead, nevertheless, nonetheless, on the contrary, on the other hand, still

To begin a conclusion: as a result, clearly, hence, in conclusion, no wonder, obviously, then, therefore, thus

A paragraph must have transitions, but where should you place them?

Critical Locations for Transitions

Topic sentence

Transition

Specific support

Transition

Sometimes you will find that no transition is necessary between the topic sentence and the first item of specific support because the second sentence of the paragraph is so obviously an example that a transitional expression seems too mechanical. For instance, you might be able to leave out the first transition in this final revision of the sample paragraph about the roommate. The remaining transitions, however, are all desirable.

Final Version

In the early morning, I am easily annoyed by my roommate. For example, I am annoyed each time I have to shut the ice-covered windows that John, my roommate, insists on opening every night, even during the winter. I amalso disgusted by a white tornado swirling around the room, which shows me that his dandruff problem is still in full force. Most bothersome, though, is the choking mass of stale smoke from John's pack-a-day habit that hovers near the door. No wonder I find my roommate annoying.

Our sample paragraph is finally coherent. We have:

·            explained the support

·            reminded the reader frequently of the opinion in the topic sentence

·            added transitions at the critical locations

You're so familiar with the above paragraph by now, and it's so simple, you may believe the transitions aren't really necessary.

Good writing shouldn't be an IQ test or a guessing game for the readers, so let them know what you're thinking as your ideas shift directions. For now, use the three techniques demonstrated in this lecture, even if they seemmechanical. As you gain experience as a writer, you will learn more subtle ways to link your ideas to each other and to the topic sentence. Your immediate goal now, though, is to communicate coherently with your readers.

Three Techniques for Coherence

·            explanation of the support

·            reminder of the opinion in the topic sentence

·            transitions

Two More Irony Selections

“A Wife in London”  by Thomas Hardy

I--The Tragedy 

She sits in the tawny vapour
   That the City lanes have uprolled,
   Behind whose webby fold on fold
Like a waning taper
   The street-lamp glimmers cold.

A messenger's knock cracks smartly,
   Flashed news is in her hand
   Of meaning it dazes to understand
Though shaped so shortly:
   He--has fallen--in the far South Land . . .

II--The Irony

'Tis the morrow; the fog hangs thicker,
   The postman nears and goes:
   A letter is brought whose lines disclose
By the firelight flicker
   His hand, whom the worm now knows:

Fresh--firm--penned in highest feather -
   Page-full of his hoped return,
   And of home-planned jaunts by brake and burn
In the summer weather,
   And of new love that they would learn.

The Cough Aldous Huxley.  Daily News “Little Tales”, 20 June 1922.

Mr. Panton lived for music. A good chamber concert, like the one he was listening to tonight, was all, indeed, that he had to live for now. They had begun the slow movement of the G. minor Quintet. All the sadness of Mozart's life was being evoked in quiet beauty from the past. Mr. Panton leaned back and shut his eyes. He felt positively happy. The melody drooped and climbed. The live parts threatened their separate ways, chased one another, joined in rich chords, broke apart. Mr. Panton listened. Suddenly he opened his eyes, sat up. A look of apprehension crossed his face. From beatific ecstasy he had plunged back into the depths; he was going to cough.

That cough — it had been with him now for years. One cold, wet January it came; it had never left him since. It was a habit now, a part of him. The tickling in the throat was becoming unbearable. The desire to cough grew and swelled. It was like a river in spate thrusting against a dam; in a moment the flimsy barrier would go down before it. Mr. Panton held his breath, swallowed, set his teeth. It was no good. The dam broke.

Mr. Panton's cough was like the noise of a falling tree — a violent tearing, a final stupendous crash. People started, scared faces turned round, indignant voices said "Hush!" Buried in his handkerchief, Mr. Panton was agonizingly trying to choke back a second outburst. The music drooped and climbed. Tear and crash, tear and crash — it was as though a forest of trees were falling. Red in the face, Mr. Panton coughed and coughed. Hush! Hush! A hundred angry eyes were turned towards him. The players scraped away, but it was only in rare snatches that Mozart's lovely melancholy reached the audience. Tear and crash, tear and crash — Mr. Panton had never known a more frightful paroxysm.

An attendant touched him on the shoulder: the management much regretted, but they must ask the gentleman to leave the building. Meekly, and in a dumb despair, Mr. Panton put on his hat and walked out into the night. The last of the three things that had made life worth living had been taken away from him. First his wife had gone. He remembered her farewell letter: "After listening to your cough for six years I have two alternatives before me, either to leave you and remain sane, or to stay with you and go mad, probably homicidally." She had left. Loneliness drove Mr. Panton to the Club. A year after his wife's departure he had had that letter from the secretary; his distressing affliction disturbed the other members; reluctantly, the committee must ask him to resign; they returned him his entrance fee. And now his music had been taken from him. Life was no longer worth living; he would put an end to it.

Mr. Panton leaned over the parapet of Westminster Bridge. It would all be over in a moment, he reflected; he couldn't swim. He had only to make the decisive movement, and there he'd be in the water — struggling, gone....

A series of violent explosive noises attracted the attention of a policeman standing by the Boadicea statue. He walked quickly onto the bridge. A small, middle-aged man was hanging, doubled up, over the parapet, coughing with incredible violence. The policeman took him by the arm.

"You’ll be falling over if you're not careful," he said. "I ‘eard you coughin’ a mile off."

Mr. Panton suffered himself to be led away. The cough had been too much for him again.

Pronouns

DEAR ABBY (Abigail Van Buren) on PRONOUN ANTECEDENT AGREEMENT

Dear Abby:

I protest the use of the pronoun "He" or "him" when referring to people in general. An example from one of your columns: Don't ever tell a child that HE is bad. If HE misbehaves, tell HIM you don't like what HE did; don't tell HIM you don't like HIM.

The child could have been a boy or a girl, right? But by using only the male pronoun, it implies that males are of primary importance-another blow to the female's self-esteem.

After all, how hard is it to write or say, "she/he" or "his/hers" or "him/her"?

Faithful Reader

Dear Faithful Reader:

The rule of grammar you speak of, which is to use the masculine pronoun when it applies to both male and female, was NOT devised to put down women. And it is not likely to be changed in the interest of women's rights. Writing "he/she" and "him/her" IS a time-waster, and I, for one, would find it extremely burdensome.

Anyone who tried to follow "Faithful Reader's well-meaning but wrong-headed attempt to eliminate "sexist language" would end up writing terrible, clunky prose, so don't do it. Instead, choose either the female pronoun or the male pronoun. I don't care. But, I repeat, avoid the "he/she" construction (worse still "he or she"; him/her; his/hers construction unless you want to annoy your reader.

Now, please read my lecture on Pronoun-Antecedent Agreement below. It is a kind of companion lesson to Subject-Verb Agreement, which we looked at last week.  

Pronouns: agreement. A pronoun must agree with its antecedent in number (singular or plural) and gender(masculine, feminine, or neuter). The antecedent of a pronoun is the word or words to which the pronoun refers. For example, in the sentence Jason lost his book, the pronoun his refers to the antecedent Jason. Another example is Jason could not find his book. He had lost it. In the second sentence there are two pronouns--he and it. The antecedent of "he" is Jason and the antecedent of “it” is book. With the exception of constructions such as “it is nearly eight o'clock”, in which “it” has no anteced­ent, all pronouns should have antecedents.

A.  Gender. If the gender of a singular antecedent is unknown or general, as in student, for example, then the antecedent is treated as if it were mas­culine. (This usage has come under attack in recent years and has begun to fade. The charge of conscious or unconscious sexism is difficult to refute, and sentences can usually be rephrased easily.)

 ANTECEDENT                                 PRONOUN

The boy lost                                          his book.

The girl lost                                           her book.

The briefcase lost                                  its handle.

The student lost                                    his book.

The students lost                                   their books.

 B. Number. Most pronoun agreement errors occur when the pronoun does not agree with its antecedent in number. If the antecedent is singular, the pronoun must be singular; if the antecedent is plural, the pronoun must be plural.

 Indefinite pronouns. Words like anybody, somebody, everybody, no­body, and each are always singular. Others like few and many are always plural. Indefinite pronouns such as all, any, most, and more can be either singular or plural, depending on the object of the preposition which follows them: All of my concern is justified; but, All of my concerns are justified.

 INCORRECT:

Somebody lost their books.

No one turns their paper in on time.

 CORRECT:

Somebody lost his books.

No one turns his paper in on time.

 2. Collective nouns. Some singular nouns refer to more than one thing: group, youth, family, jury, and audience, for example. If the noun acts as a unit, it takes a singular pronoun. If the individuals within the unit act separately, the noun takes a plural pronoun.

The jury reached its decision.

The jury [members] divided bitterly on their decision.

The audience rose to its feet to show its approval.

The audience stayed in their seats through the entire first act.

 3. Antecedents joined by either . . . or and neither . . . nor.

When two antecedents are joined by either . . . or or neither . . . nor, the pro­noun agrees with the antecedentcloser to it:

Either Ruby or Janet lost her album.

Either the mother or the daughters lost their albums.

Either the daughters or the mother lost her album.

Neither the boys nor the girls lost their albums.

 4. Compound antecedents. Except when the words function as a single unit—e.g., “Macaroni and cheese is my favorite dish; I make it often”—antecedents joined by and take a plural pronoun:

The owl and the pussycat shook their heads sadly.

 Test with answers:

Chapter 16_Mastering Pronoun-Antecedent Agreement

Alternative Mastery Test

Find and correct the 13 errors in the following sentences.  Wherever possible, avoid gender-biased language.

1.   Each applicant must present themselves to the receptionist 15 minutes before their scheduled interviews.

2.   Danni was looking forward to roller-blading along the seawall in Vancouver, but when she unpacked her bags, she found that she’d left them at home.

3.   “Every dog has his day” is an old saying that means everyone will get their chance if they are patient.

4.   My roommate has a sister that may be able to help me with my grammar problems.

5.   Josh and Susan kept the dogs happy by feeding them biscuits, but soon they were gone and they wished they had more.

6.   Here’s another potential customer that forgot to put their address on the order form!

7.   Jan defended Nancy when she appeared before the Student Disciplinary Committee, but she was very nervous.

8.   I much prefer watching movies at home than in a movie theatre, so when my parents bought a 54-inch wall-hung plasma one, I couldn’t believe my luck.

9.   If you lend someone $20 and never see them again, it was probably worth it.

10.               Anyone who doesn’t learn from their mistakes will eventually discover that they are making the same mistakes again and again.

ANSWERS TO 16.6 TEST

1.   All applicants must present themselves to the receptionist 15 minutes before their scheduled interviews.

2.   Danni was looking forward to roller-blading along the seawall in Vancouver, but when she unpacked her bags, she found that she’d left her roller blades at home.

3.   “Every dog has his day” is an old saying that means all will get their chance if they are patient.

4.   My roommate has a sister who may be able to help me with my grammar problems.

5.   Josh and Susan kept the dogs happy by feeding them biscuits, but soon the biscuits were gone and they wished they had more.

6.   Here’s another potential customer who forgot to put her (or his) address on the order form!

7.   Jan defended Nancy when Nancy appeared before the Student Disciplinary Committee, but Jan was very nervous.

8.   I much prefer watching movies at home than in a movie theatre, so when my parents bought a 54-inch wall-hung plasma television, I couldn’t believe my luck.

9.   If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, the experience was probably worth it.

10.                People who don’t learn from their mistakes will eventually discover that they are making the same mistakes again and again

Some Important Links

To get to the link just hit the Control key while putting the cursor on the url.

The link below gives the complete text of “The Cask of Amontillado” on the left side of the page, with explanatory notes on the right side. Just click on each page of the story.

http://www2.ivcc.edu/rambo/poe1.htm

Here is another full text of the story with hyperlinked definitions of difficult words.http://poestories.com/read/amontillado

This link provides excellent tutorials on all aspects of MLA documentation.

http://library.hunter.cuny.edu/tutorials/mla/mla_tutorial.html

This link to a vidcast from Purdue University, Online Writing Lab, explains how to format in MLA style.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24Y31UrG2q4

Link to youtube short film adaptation of Saki’s “The Open Window”, called “The Open Doors”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBXb-8YoR0E

Link to youtube short film version of Max Shulman’s comic story “Love is a Fallacy”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eK_tb7ob8Kg

Link to full text of “Love is a Fallacy”

http://www.filozofia.bme.hu/sites/default/files/love_is_a_fallacy.pdf

Irony

Readings Containing One or More Types of Irony for the Research Essay Option

1.Does it Matter? By Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

Does it matter?—losing your legs?...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter ?—losing your sight?...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit.

Study Questions
Interestingly, Sassoon was entitled to write the initials MC after his name. What do these initials stand for? [Hint: it doesn’t mean “master of ceremonies.”] This 15 line poem was written during World War I]
Does it Matter?

1. Who is talking?
2. What type of irony—situational, dramatic or verbal, pervades the poem?
3. What are the dreams from the pit?
4. What is the poem’s theme?

2.Richard Cory    by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich — yes, richer than a king —
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

3.“Those Naked Dangers”  Letter to Editor, Victoria Times-Colonist , June 8, 2009

I noticed with keen interest the story about the nude pictures in Victoria's city hall. [Victoria Times‑Colonist had printed a story about the controversy resulting from a decision to display in the foyer of city hall a group of photographs and paintings, some of which depicted nudes.] I cannot help wondering just how much of this blatant type of thing is rampant in our fair city.

Just recently, I accompanied three young children to the ballet at the Royal Theatre, and you can imagine my feelings as I spied, lolling about up near the ceiling, gigantic three‑dimensional naked plaster ladies!

May I suggest that we all go out into the town and search out further examples of this sort to awaken public awareness to the insidious influences which lurk about, constantly threatening to undermine the morals of the unwary.

You were quite right in assigning this sort of news to the front page. Let the tedious details of judicial inequities and human rights violations languish where they belong—on less conspicuous pages.

A concerned citizen,

Victoria.

5."The Appointment in Samarra"
(as retold by W. Somerset Maugham [1933])

[The speaker is Death]

There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, “Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me.  She looked at me and made a threatening gesture. Now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate.  I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me.”

The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks, and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.  Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, “Why did you make a threating getsture to my servant when you saw him this morning?”

“ That was not a threatening gesture”, I said, “it was only a start of surprise.  I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.”

6. The Chaser    John Collier

Alan Austen, as nervous as a kitten, went up certain dark and creaky stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street, and peered about for a long time on the dime landing before he found the name he wanted written obscurely on one of the doors.

He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do, and found himself in a tiny room, which contained no furniture but a plain kitchen table, a rocking‑chair, and an ordinary chair. On one of the dirty buff‑coloured walls were a couple of shelves, containing in all perhaps a dozen bottles and jars. An old man sat in the rocking‑chair, reading a newspaper. Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given.

"Sit down, Mr. Austen," said the old man very politely.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance."

"Is it true," asked Alan, "that you have a certain mixture that has‑er‑quite extraordinary effects?"

"My dear sir," replied the old man, "my stock in trade is not very large‑I don't deal in laxatives and teething mixtures‑but such as it is, it is varied. I think nothing I sell has effects which could be precisely described as ordinary."

"Well, the fact is. . ." began Alan.

"Here, for example," interrupted the old man, reaching for a bottle from the shelf. "Here is a liquid as colourless as water, almost tasteless, quite imperceptible in coffee, wine, or any other beverage. It is also quite imperceptible to any known method of autopsy."

"Do you mean it is a poison?" cried Alan, very much horrified.

"Call it a glove‑cleaner if you like," said the old man indifferently. "Maybe it will clean gloves. I have never tried. One might call it a life‑cleaner. Lives need cleaning sometimes."

"I want nothing of that sort," said Alan.

"Probably it is just as well," said the old man. "Do you know the price of this? For one teaspoonful, which is sufficient, I ask five thousand dollars. Never less. Not a penny less."

"I hope all your mixtures are not as expensive," said Alan apprehensively.

"Oh dear, no," said the old man. "It would be no good charging that sort of price for a love potion, for example. Young people who need a love potion very seldom have five thousand dollars. Otherwise they would not need a love potion."

"I am glad to hear that," said Alan.

"I look at it like this," said the old man. "Please a customer with one article, and he will come back when he needs another. Even if it is more costly. He will save up for it, if necessary."

"So," said Alan, "you really do sell love potions?"

"If I did not sell love potions," said the old man, reaching for another bottle, "I should not have mentioned the other matter to you. It is only when one is in a position to oblige that one can afford to be so confidential."

"And these potions," said Alan. "They are not just just‑er‑"

"Oh, no," said the old man. "Their effects are permanent, and extend far beyond the mere casual impulse. But they include it. Oh, yes they include it. Bountifully, insistently. Everlastingly."

"Dear me!" said Alan, attempting a look of scientific detachment. "How very interesting!"

"But consider the spiritual side," said the old man.

"I do, indeed," said Alan.

"For indifference," said the old man, they substitute devotion. For scorn, adoration. Give one tiny measure of this to the young lady‑its flavour is imperceptible in orange juice, soup, or cocktails‑and however gay and giddy she is, she will change altogether. She will want nothing but solitude and you."

"I can hardly believe it," said Alan. "She is so fond of parties."

"She will not like them any more," said the old man. "She will be afraid of the pretty girls you may meet."

"She will actually be jealous?" cried Alan in a rapture. "Of me?"

"Yes, she will want to be everything to you."

"She is, already. Only she doesn't care about it."

"She will, when she has taken this. She will care intensely. You will be her sole interest in life."

"Wonderful!" cried Alan.

"She will want to know all you do," said the old man. "All that has happened to you during the day. Every word of it. She will want to know what you are thinking about, why you smile suddenly, why you are looking sad."

"That is love!" cried Alan.

"Yes," said the old man. "How carefully she will look after you! She will never allow you to be tired, to sit in a draught, to neglect your food. If you are an hour late, she will be terrified. She will think you are killed, or that some siren has caught you."

"I can hardly imagine Diana like that!" cried Alan, overwhelmed with joy.

"You will not have to use your imagination," said the old man. "And, by the way, since there are always sirens, if by any chance you should, later on, slip a little, you need not worry. She will forgive you, in the end. She will be terribly hurt, of course, but she will forgive you‑in the end."

"That will not happen," said Alan fervently.

"Of course not," said the old man. "But, if it did, you need not worry. She would never divorce you. Oh, no! And, of course, she will never give you the least, the very least, grounds for‑uneasiness."

"And how much," said Alan, "is this wonderful mixture?"

"It is not as dear," said the old man, "as the glove‑cleaner, or life‑cleaner, as I sometimes call it. No. That is five thousand dollars, never a penny less. One has to be older than you are, to indulge in that sort of thing. One has to save up for it."

"But the love potion?" said Alan.

"Oh, that," said the old man, opening the drawer in the kitchen table, and taking out a tiny, rather dirty-­looking phial. "That is just a dollar."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am," said Alan, watching him fill it.

"I like to oblige," said the old man. "Then customers come back, later in life, when they are better off, and want more expensive things. Here you are. You will find it very effective."

"Thank you again," said Alan. "Good‑bye."

"Au revoir," said the man.

7.The Unicorn in the Garden 

James Thurber

 Once upon a sunny morning a man who sat in a breakfast nook looked up from his scrambled eggs to see a white unicorn with a golden horn quietly cropping the roses in the garden. The man went up to the bedroom where his wife was still asleep and woke her. "There's a unicorn in the garden," he said. "Eating roses." She opened one unfriendly eye and looked at him. "The unicorn is a mythical beast," she said, and turned her back on him. The man walked slowly downstairs and out into the garden. The unicorn was still there; he was now browsing among the tulips. "Here, unicorn," said the man and pulled up a lily and gave it to him. The unicorn ate it gravely. With a high heart, because there was a unicorn in his garden, the man went upstairs and roused his wife a gain. "The unicorn," he said, "ate a lily." His wife sat up in bed and looked at him, coldly. "You are a booby," she said, "and I am going to have you put in a booby-hatch." The man, who never liked the words "booby" and "booby-hatch," and who liked them even less on a shining morning when there was a unicorn in the garden, thought for a moment. "We'll see about that," he said. He walked over to the door. "He has a golden horn in the middle of his forehead," he told her. Then he went back to the garden to watch the unicorn; but the unicorn had gone away. The man sat among the roses and went to sleep. 

 And as soon as the husband had gone out of the house, the wife got up and dressed as fast as she could. She was very excited and there was a gloat in her eye. She telephoned the police and she telephoned the psychiatrist; she told them to hurry to her house  and bring a strait-jacket. When the police and the psychiatrist looked at her with great interest. "My husband," she said, "saw a unicorn this morning." The police looked at the psychiatrist and the psychiatrist looked at the police. "He told me it ate a lily," she said. The psychiatrist looked at the police and the police looked at the psychiatrist. "He told me it had a golden horn in the middle of its forehead," she said. At a solemn signal from the signal from the psychiatrist, the police leaped fro m their chairs and seized the wife. They had a hard time subduing her, for she put up a terrific struggle, but they finally subdued her. Just as they got her into the strait-jacket, the husband came back into the house. 

 "Did you tell your wife you saw a unicorn?" asked the police. "Of course not," said the husband. "The unicorn is a mythical beast." "That's all I wanted to know," said the psychiatrist. "Take her away. I'm sorry, sir, but your wife is as crazy as a jay bi rd." So they took her away, cursing and screaming, and shut her up in an institution. The husband lived happily ever after. 

 Moral: Don't count your boobies until they are hatched. 

End

8. The Open Window ­­by Saki (H.H. Munro)

"My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel," said a very self­possessed young lady of fifteen; "in the meantime you must try and put up with me."

Framton Nuttel endeavored to say the correct something which should duly flatter the niece of the moment without unduly discounting the aunt that was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of total strangers would do much towards helping the nerve cure which he was supposed to be undergoing

"I know how it will be," his sister had said when he was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat; "you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can remember, were quite nice."

Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters of introduction came into the nice division.

"Do you know many of the people round here?" asked the niece, when she judged that they had had sufficient silent communion.

"Hardly a soul," said Framton. "My sister was staying here, at the rectory, you know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the people here." He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.

"Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?" pursued the self­possessed young

lady.

"Only her name and address," admitted the caller. He was wondering whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or widowed state. An undefinable something about the roomseemed to suggest masculine habitation.

"Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the child; "that would be since your sister's time."

"Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place.

"You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon," said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a lawn.

"It is quite warm for the time of the year," said Framton; "but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?"

"Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her two young brothers went off for their day's shooting. They never came back. In crossing the moor to their favorite snipe­shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer, you know, and places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it." Here the child's voice lost its self­possessed note and became falteringly human. "Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing 'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window­­"

She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her appearance.

"I hope Vera has been amusing you?" she said.

"She has been very interesting," said Framton.

"I hope you don't mind the open window," said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; "my husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they always come in this way. They've been out for snipe in the marshes today, so they'll make a fine mess over my poor carpets. So like you menfolk, isn't it?"

She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate but only

partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic; he was conscious that his hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were constantly strayingpast him to the open window and the lawn beyond. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have paid his visit on this tragic anniversary.

"The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise," announced Framton, who labored under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one's ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. "On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement," he continued.

"No?" said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention­­but not to what Framton was saying.

"Here they are at last!" she cried. "Just in time for tea, and don't they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!"

Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open window with a dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.

In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window, they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk:

"I said, Bertie, why do you bound?"

Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall door, the gravel drive, and the front gate were dimly noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid imminent collision.

"Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in through the window, "fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that who bolted out as we came up?"

"A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said Mrs. Sappleton; "could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of goodbye or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost."

"I expect it was the spaniel," said the niece calmly; "he told me he had a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone lose his nerve."

Romance at short notice was her specialty.

“The Open Window” questions

1.     What does Framton think he has seen? What, in fact, has he seen?

2.     When does the reader realize that the niece has been lying to Framton?

3.     Why is Framton a particularly good candidate for believing the niece’s lies?

4.     The author repeatedly refers to the niece as “self­possessed.” What does this mean? Why is it important that the reader know this about the niece?

5.     The niece is a good actress, as well as being a good liar. Give two examples of her convincing acting.

6.     A surprise ending is an unexpected twist at the end of a story. Such an ending is said to be ironic because it is not what the reader expects. Find clues early in the story that foreshadow the surprise ending.