3. The most striking and interesting features should be selected and arranged so that they will easily combine into a whole. Aim to give the reader a distinct and vivid picture of the subject.
I. THE POND IN THE WOOD.
As soon as you get inside the belt of wood, and begin to go down to the pond, the damp, and the dusk, and the scent of the dead leaves make you feel as if you were in a very old church. Plenty of wake-robin also grows in the wood, with its leaves like spotted spearheads, and its stumpy red and purple pencils wrapped up in faded green satin (“lords and ladies,” I think we used to call them when I was a youngster). The sweet flag grows all about the pond, and in it too. The corn-flag brightens up its banks with great yellow flowers; and the iris nods its purple blossoms on them, looking a great deal nicer than it smells. Big tangled sheaves of bright green forget-me-not, dotted with tiny stars of blue and gold, bulge over and into, and straggle along, the water. A great part of the pond is choked and carpeted with crow-silk and water-flannel, and moor-ball, spangled with glassy air-bubbles and bright-backed little beetles. White water-lilies, and yellow water-lilies spread a splendid service of china and gold on glossy green table-cloths, for the water-fairies to take supper off by moonlight; and yet, for all that, the great pond is a melancholy place. Big fish mope motionless in its corners, as if they had something on their minds. Little fish leap through its duck-weed, almost covered with the green scum, not as if they did it for the fun of the jump and splash, but to keep for a moment out of the jaws of the shark-like pike that is waiting for them. The pond’s great pike—it has only one, according to village report—is said to have dragged into its waters a dog that came to lap them. No one ever bathes in the pond. Steel-blue dragon-flies zig-zag over the water on their gauzy wings, and two or three kingfishers flash backwards and forwards across it like streaks of variegated lightning.—Anon.
II. SUNSET ON DERWENTWATER.
Then we went down to Derwentwater. It was a warm and clear twilight. Between the dark green lines of the hedges we met maidens in white, with scarlet opera cloaks, coming home through the narrow lane. Then we got into the open, and found the shores of the silver lake, and got into a boat and sailed out upon the still waters, so that we could face the wonders of a brilliant sunset.
But all that glow of red and yellow in the north-west was as nothing to the strange gradations of colour that appeared along the splendid range of mountain-peaks beyond the lake. From the remote north round to the south-east they stretched like a mighty wall; and whereas, near the gold and crimson of the sunset they were of a warm, roseate, and half-transparent purple, as they came along into the darker regions of the twilight they grew more and more cold in hue and harsh in outline. Up there in the north they had caught the magic colors, so that they themselves seemed but light clouds of beautiful vapor; but, as the eye followed the line of twisted and mighty shapes, the rose color deepened into purple, the purple grew darker and more dark, and greens and blues began to appear over the wooded islands and shores of Derwentwater. Finally, away down there in the south, there was a lowering sky, into which rose wild masses of slate-colored mountains, and in the threatening and yet clear darkness that reigned among these solitudes we could see but one small tuft of white cloud that clung coldly to the gloomy summit of Glaramara.
That strange darkness in the south boded rain; and, as if in anticipation of the wet, the fires of the sunset went down, and a gray twilight fell over the land. As we walked home between the tall hedges, there was a chill dampness in the air; and we seemed to know that we had at last bade good-bye to the beautiful weather that had lit up for us the blue water and green shores of Grasmere.—William Black.
Examine each of these selections for the leading principles of description.