stories to tell to children-第13节

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By　some　terrible　mischance；　the　signal　was

misunderstood。　　The　men　took　it　for　the　signal

to　charge。　　Without　a　moment's　pause；　straight

up　the　slope；　they　charged　on　the　run；　cheering

as　they　ran。



Some　were　killed　by　the　spears　that　were

thrown　from　the　cliffs；　before　they　had　gone

half　way；　some　were　stabbed　as　they　reached

the　crest；　and　hurled　backward　from　the　precipice；

two　or　three　got　to　the　top；　and　fought

hand　to　hand　with　the　Hillsmen。　　They　were

outnumbered；　seven　to　one；　but　when　the　last

of　the　English　soldiers　lay　dead；　twice　their

number　of　Hillsmen　lay　dead　around　them！



When　the　relief　party　reached　the　spot；　later

in　the　day；　they　found　the　bodies　of　their

comrades；　full　of　wounds；　huddled　over　and　in　the

barricade；　or　crushed　on　the　rocks　below。

They　were　mutilated　and　battered；　and　bore

every　sign　of　the　terrible　struggle。　　BUT　ROUND

BOTH　WRISTS　OF　EVERY　BRITISH　SOLDIER　WAS　BOUND

THE　RED　THREAD！



The　Hillsmen　had　paid　greater　honour　to

their　heroic　foes　than　to　the　bravest　of　their

own　brave　dead。





Another　instance　is　the　short　poem；　which；

while　being　perfectly　simple；　is　rich　in　suggestion

of　more　than　the　young　child　will　see　for

himself。　　The　following　example　shows　the

working　out　of　details　in　order　to　provide　a

satisfactorily　rounded　story。





THE　ELF　AND　THE　DORMOUSE＇1＇



＇1＇　Adapted　from　The　Elf　and　the　Dormouse；　by　Oliver

Herford；　in　A　Treasury　of　Verse　for　Little　Children。

（Harrap。　　1s。　net。）





Once　upon　a　time　a　dormouse　lived　in　the

wood　with　his　mother。　　She　had　made　a　snug

little　nest；　but　Sleepy…head；　as　she　called　her

little　mousie；　loved　to　roam　about　among　the

grass　and　fallen　leaves；　and　it　was　a　hard　task

to　keep　him　at　home。　　One　day　the　mother　went

off　as　usual　to　look　for　food；　leaving　Sleepy…

head　curled　up　comfortably　in　a　corner　of

the　nest。　　〃He　will　lie　there　safely　till　I

come　back；〃　she　thought。　　Presently；　however；

Sleepy…head　opened　his　eyes　and　thought　he

would　like　to　take　a　walk　out　in　the　fresh

air。　　So　he　crept　out　of　the　nest　and　through

the　long　grass　that　nodded　over　the　hole　in

the　bank。　　He　ran　here　and　he　ran　there；　stopping

again　an　again　to　cock　his　little　ears　for

sound　of　any　creeping　thing　that　might　be　close

at　hand。　　His　little　fur　coat　was　soft　and　silky

as　velvet。　　Mother　had　licked　it　clean　before

starting　her　day's　work；　you　may　be　sure。　　As

Sleepy…head　moved　from　place　to　place　his　long

tail　swayed　from　side　to　side　and　tickled　the

daisies　so　that　they　could　not　hold　themselves

still　for　laughing。



Presently　something　very　cold　fell　on　Sleepy…

head's　nose。　　What　could　it　be？　　He　put　up

his　little　paw　and　dabbed　at　the　place。　　Then

the　same　thing　happened　to　his　tail。　　He

whisked　it　quickly　round　to　the　front。　　Ah；　it

was　raining！　　Now　Sleepy…head　couldn't　bear

rain；　and　he　had　got　a　long　way　from　home。

What　would　mother　say　if　his　nice　furry　coat

got　wet　and　draggled？　　He　crept　under　a　bush；

but　soon　the　rain　found　him　out。　　Then　he　ran

to　a　tree；　but　this　was　poor　shelter。　　He　began

to　think　that　he　was　in　for　a　soaking　when

what　should　he　spy；　a　little　distance　off；　but

a　fine　toadstool　which　stood　bolt　upright　just

like　an　umbrella。　　The　next　moment　Sleepy…

head　was　crawling　underneath　the　friendly

shelter。　　He　fixed　himself　up　as　snugly　as　he

could；　with　his　little　nose　upon　his　paws　and　his

little　tail　curled　round　all；　and　before　you　could

count　six；　eight；　ten；　twenty；　he　was　fast　asleep。



Now　it　happened　that　Sleepy…head　was　not

the　only　creature　that　was　caught　by　the　rain

that　morning　in　the　wood。　　A　little　elf　had

been　flitting　about　in　search　of　fun　or　mischief；

and　he；　too；　had　got　far　from　home　when　the

raindrops　began　to　come　pattering　through　the

leafy　roof　of　the　beautiful　wood。　　It　would　never

do　to　get　his　pretty　wings　wet；　for　he　hated　to

walkit　was　such　slow　work　and；　besides；　he

might　meet　some　big　wretched　animal　that　could

run　faster　than　himself。　　However；　he　was

beginning　to　think　that　there　was　no　help　for　it；

when；　on　a　sudden；　there　before　him　was　the

toadstool；　with　Sleepy…head　snug　and　dry　underneath！

There　was　room　for　another　little　fellow；

thought　the　elf；　and　ere　long　he　had　safely

bestowed　himself　under　the　other　half　of　the

toadstool；　which　was　just　like　an　umbrella。



Sleepy…head　slept　on；　warm　and　comfortable

in　his　furry　coat；　and　the　elf　began　to　feel

annoyed　with　him　for　being　so　happy。　　He

was　always　a　great　mischief；　and　he　could　not

bear　to　sit　still　for　long　at　a　time。　　Presently

he　laughed　a　queer　little　laugh。　　He　had　got

an　idea！　　Putting　his　two　small　arms　round

the　stem　of　the　toadstool　he　tugged　and　he

pulled　until；　of　a　sudden；　snap！　　He　had　broken

the　stem；　and　a　moment　later　was　soaring　in　air

safely　sheltered　under　the　toadstool；　which　he

held　upright　by　its　stem　as　he　flew。



Sleepy…head　had　been　dreaming；　oh；　so　cosy

a　dream！　　It　seemed　to　him　that　he　had

discovered　a　storehouse　filled　with　golden　grain

and　soft　juicy　nuts　with　little　bunches　of　sweet…

smelling　hay；　where　tired　mousies　might　sleep

dull　hours　away。　　He　thought　that　he　was

settled　in　the　sweetest　bunch　of　all；　with

nothing　in　the　world　to　disturb　his　nap；　when

gradually　he　became　aware　that　something　had

happened。　　He　shook　himself　in　his　sleep　and

settled　down　again；　but　the　dream　had　altered。

He　opened　his　eyes。　　Rain　was　falling；　pit…a…pat；

and　he　was　without　cover　on　a　wet　patch　of

grass。　　What　could　be　the　matter？　　Sleepy…

head　was　now　wide　awake。　　Said　he；



　　〃DEAR　ME；　WHERE　IS　MY　TOADSTOOL？〃





From　these　four　instances　we　may；　perhaps；

deduce　certain　general　principles　of　adaptation

which　have　at　least　proved　valuable　to　those

using　them。



These　are　suggestions　which　the　practised

story…teller　will　find　trite。　　But　to　others　they

may　prove　a　fair　foundation　on　which　to　build

a　personal　method　to　be　developed　by　experience。

I　have　given　them　a　tabular　arrangement　below。



The　preliminary　step　in　all　cases　is



　Analysis　of　the　Story。



The　aim；　then；　is



　to　REDUCE　a　long　story　or　to　AMPLIFY　a　short　one。



For　the　first；　the　need　is



ELIMINATION　of　secondary　threads　of　narrative；

　　　　extra　personages；

　　　　description；

　　　　irrelevant　events。



For　the　second；　the　great　need　is　of



　Realising　Imagination。



For　both；　it　is　desirable　to　keep

　　　　Close　Logical　Sequence；

　　　　Single　Point　of　View；

　　　　Simple　Language；

　　　　The　Point　at　the　End







CHAPTER　IV



HOW　TO　TELL　THE　STORY



Selection；　and；　if　necessary；　adaptationthese

are　the　preliminaries　to　the　act　of　telling。　　That；

after　all；　is　the　real　test　of　one's　power。　　That

is　the　real　joy；　when　achieved；　the　real　bugbear；

when　dreaded。　　And　that　is　the　subject　of　this

chapter；　〃How　to　tell　a　story。〃



How　to　tell　a　story：　it　is　a　short　question

which　demands　a　long　answer。　　The　right

beginning　of　the　answer　depends　on　a　right

conception　of　the　thing　the　question　is　about；　and

that　naturally　reverts　to　an　earlier　discussion　of

the　real　nature　of　a　story。　　In　that　discussion　it

was　stated　that　a　story　is　a　work　of　art；a　message；

as　all　works　of　art　are。



To　tell　a　story；　then；　is　to　pass　on　the　message；

to　share　the　work　of　art。　　The　message　may　be

merely　one　of　humour；of　nonsense；　even；

works　of　art　range　all　the　way　from　the　〃Victory〃

to　a　〃Dresden　Shepherdess；〃　from　an

〃Assumption〃　to　a　〃Broken　Pitcher；〃　and

farther。　　Each　has　its　own　place。　　But　whatever

its　quality；　the　story…teller　is　the　passer…on；　the

interpreter；　the　transmitter。　　He　comes　bringing

a　gift。　　Always　he　gives；　always　he　bears　a

message。



This　granted；　the　first　demand　of　the　story…

teller　is　not　far　to　seek。　　No　one　can　repeat　a

message　he　has　not　heard；　or　interpret　what　he

does　not　understand。　　You　cannot　give；　unless

you　first　possess。　　The　first　demand　of　the　story…

teller　is　that　he　possess。　　He　must　FEEL　the

story。　　Whatever　the　particular　quality　and

appeal　of　the　work　of　art；　from　the　lightest　to

the　grandest　emotion　or　thought；　he　must　have

responded　to　it；　grasped　it；　felt　it　intimately；

before　he　can　give　it　out　again。　　Listen；　humbly；

for　the　message。



I　realise　that　this　has　an　incongruous　sound；

when　applied　to　such　stories　as　that　of　the　little

pig　at　the　stile　or　of　the　greedy　cat　who　ate　up

man　and　beast。　　But；　believe　me；　it　does

apply　even　to　those。　　For　the　transmittable

thing　in　a　story　is　the　identifying　essence；　the

characterising　savour；　the　peculiar　quality　and

point　of　view　of　the　humour；　pathos；　or　interest。

Every　tale　which　claims　a　place　in　good　fiction

has　this　identifying　savour　and　quality；　each

different　from　every　other。　　The　laugh　which

echoes　one　of　Seumas　McManus's　rigmaroles　is

not　the　c