Writing Stories from Outlines - 455

Writing Stories from Outlines.

The art of writing good stories is a difficult one, and requires much practice. But if you are given the outline of a story, it is not difficult to expand the outline by filling in details. For example, here is an outline.

Driver of a full motor-bus leaves it to fetch water. The bus begins to run down hill. Boy on bicycle rides after it, jumps on driver’s seat, turns the bus and saves the passengers.

This brief outline could be filled up in various ways, to make a short story. Here is one way.

A Young Hero.

One day last year a motor-bus loaded with passengers for Coimbatore was standing at the side of the steep road at Coonoor in the Nilgiris. The driver had left it there for a moment while he ran into a shop where he had some business to do.

Suddenly something happened to the brake, and the heavy bus began to move down hill. One or two of the passengers jumped out, but soon the bus was going too fast for others to do so. People in the shops on each side of the road ran out expecting to see the bus overturn or dash down the mountain side.

A boy of sixteen, named Nanjappa, was standing by his bicycle as the bus came down the road. He saw that no one was driving it, and the passengers were crying out with fear. He jumped on his bicycle, and rode full speed after the bus. He seized the upright bar by the driver’s seat and pulled himself on to the step, letting his bicycle fall. Then he turned the steering wheel of the bus so that it ran against a grassy bank, and at once put on the second brake. Some of the passengers were bumped and shaken, but nobody was really hurt, and all their lives were saved.

Care of the Little Ones - 454

Care of the Little Ones.

I have known Lady Helmsley several years. She is a lover of the poor, and extremely active and practical in her way of helping them. I asked her the other day how she came to start her Nursery business. She said that in her visits to the London slums some years ago she found a poor sickly woman in charge of twenty or thirty babies in one poor miserable room. They were the children of young mothers who worked in factories and left them in her charge for I he day for a very small fee.

This poor woman turned to Lady, Helmsley and said:

‘Why can’t one of you rich ladies who come among us do something like this for the little ones and their mothers who have to leave them every day to go to work?’

Lady Helmsley took the hint and had a big room built at her own expense, appointed a nurse, and very soon had forty or fifty children to look after every day except Sunday. It proved so successful that others were started all over London. And it was also taken up in all the big industrial towns of England.

A Dream - 453

A Dream.

At the beginning of the last century a lady in Scotland had a very vivid dream about her son, who was a midshipman on board one of Lord Nelson’s battleships. One night she heard his footsteps; he was coming upstairs and then along the passage leading to her room. She could tell by the sound that he was walking with only one shoe on. She heard him stop outside her door and call her. At once she got- up and opened the door, but there was no one there.

Some weeks later, after the battle of Trafalgar, her son’s ship returned to England. Then the lady learnt that her son had gone lip in a storm to take in some sails. He had fallen, but one foot had caught in a rope, and he hung head downwards. Then the shoe came off the foot that was caught, and he fell to the deck and was killed at once.

The shoe that was caught had remained in the rope above. That, we may think, was why he sounded to his mother to have only one shoe.

A Story of Abraham Lincoln - 452

A Story of Abraham Lincoln.

Eighty years ago, when Abraham Lincoln was President of the United States, there was a war between the North and South of the States. Once a young soldier named William Scott was found asleep at his post, and was likely to be shot. When President Lincoln heard of it he was troubled, and sent for the soldier, who was little more than a boy. He asked him many questions and learnt that Scott had been on a march of over twenty miles that day. A friend of his had fallen ill, so Scott offered to take his place as sentry at night. And as he was very tired, he had fallen asleep. He was not afraid to die, but he did not want his mother to know why he had died. As President Lincoln listened to the story tears came into his eyes and he said: ‘You have suffered for a friend; you are a good soldier, and may return to your regiment.’

A Dacoit - 451

A Dacoit.

The father of Sir Jagadis Chandra Bose was a magistrate, and one day he sent a dacoit to prison for a number of years. When the man came out of prison, he went to the magistrate and said: ‘How shall I earn my living? No one will give work to a man who has been in prison.’ But the magistrate knew that the man had been good when he was in prison. So he determined to give him a trial. He said: ‘I will give you work to do in my house. And you can take my little boy to school every morning, and bring him home every afternoon.’

The man who had been a dacoit became good and trusty servant and guarded the little boy faithfully.

One day the magistrate and his family were travelling by boat on a river, when they saw a party of dacoits chasing them in another boat. He jumped on to the roof of the boat and gave a long and strange cry. When the dacoits heard that they gave up the pursuit and turned up a side-stream. This was one of the memories of Sir Jagadis Chandra Bose.

Chivalry - 450

Chivalry.

I was coming up in the coach the other day. At a little wayside hotel we had to change into a smaller coach. We were ten passengers, eight men and two women. As I sat in the house the gentlemen came and whispered to me : ‘There is not room for all in ’the new coach, so you had better take your seat quickly.’

We hurried out, and they gave me the best seat, and covered me with rugs, because it was drizzling. Then the last passenger came running up to the coach—an old woman with a wonderful bonnet, and a black shawl pinned with a yellow pin.

‘There is no room,’ they said, ‘you must wait till next week’s coach.’ But she climbed on to the step, and held on at the window with both hands. ‘My son is ill and I must go and see him,’ she said.

‘My good woman’, said one: ‘I am really sorry that your son is ill; but there is absolutely no room for you here.’

‘You had better get down,’. said another, ‘or the wheel will catch you.

I got up to give her my place.

‘Oh, no, no I’ they cried, ‘we will not allow that.’

‘I will kneel’, said the other woman passenger and she crouched down at my feet. So the old woman came in. There were nine of us in that coach, and only one showed kindness—and that was a woman to a woman.

Ibn Saud as a Judge - 449

Ibn Saud as a Judge.

A woman demanded the death sentence on the killer of her husband.

‘What is the evidence?’ asked Ibn Saud.

‘This man was up in a date-palm picking the fruit. My husband was sitting peacefully below until this man, this murderer, fell on him from above and broke his neck, so that I am left a widow and my children are fatherless.’

‘Did he fall on your husband by design so as to kill him?’ asked the king.

‘I know not,’ she replied, ‘but my husband is dead and I am alone.’

‘Will you take the compensation that I adjudge,’ asked the king, ‘or do you still demand the life of the accused ?’

‘By the Holy Law his life is forfeit to me,’ said the widow.

‘So be it,’ said Ibn Saud, after a short pause. ‘His life is forfeit to you. Only the manner of his death is in my hand.’

‘The palm is forty feet high. I direct that the accused be bound to the trunk and that you, woman, shall climb up to the top of the tree and from there fall upon the accused and so take his life. It is your right. Go—take your right. ... Or perhaps you will still agree if I award compensation?’

The widow quickly took the compensation and was gone.

A Clever Escape - 448

A Clever Escape.

On the fiftieth birthday of the Emperor Aurangzeb rulers and other great men from all parts of India were present at the durbar at Agra. Among them was the Maharaja Shivaji with his son Sambhaji. At some overbold word spoken by Shivaji the Emperor took offence, and confined father and son to their dwelling house, as if they were no longer guests but prisoners.

Shivaji was a very shrewd man, and he determined to escape. He pretended to be quite at home, and began to send large baskets of sweetmeats as presents to various friends in Agra. These baskets were at first carefully examined, but nothing wrong with them was found. Then it was reported that Shivaji was very ill. Doctors were sent to him and soon he recovered. This gave him an excuse to send out more baskets. He also sent three horses as a gift to some Brahmans who had prayed for his recovery.

One evening Shivaji asked his brother to take his place in his bed, while he and his son got into sweetmeat baskets and were carried away. They reached the horses he had sent, and so escaped to Mathura, from where he travelled in the disguise of a pilgrim till he safely reached Poona.

Aurangzeb and the Elephant - 447

Aurangzeb and the Elephant.

The Emperor Shan Jahan one day went to an elephant fight, taking his sons with him. Prince Aurangzeb sat on his horse, very near to the fighting animals. Suddenly one of the elephants turned and attacked Aurangzeb. He kept his seat and threw a spear at the elephant. The elephant charged him again and threw him from his seat. But Aurangzeb got up and attacked the elephant with his sword. This made the Emperor and the nobles very anxious, and Prince Shuja and Raja Jai Singh went to help Aurangzeb. But the elephant turned and resumed its fight with the other elephant. The Emperor sent for Aurangzeb, who was only fourteen years of age, and scolded him. But the prince said: ‘Father, even kings have to die some day or other. If I had run away, people would have called me a coward. If I had been killed, it would have been a glorious death.’

The Emperor was pleased with this answer, and gave the Prince the title of Bahadur (i.e. Hero).

[i.e. = ie = id est = 'That is to say; in other words']

Our Neighbour - 446

Our Neighbor.

Next door there lives an old gentleman, a bachelor, whose acquaintance I have made and who is very amusing. He is nearly blind, but doesn’t believe it, and walks boldly about everywhere. Twice he has stepped off our stone plan pier and fallen into a sea!

The other day the milkman who has a donkey in his cart was here delivering milk. The old man came out and was walking briskly into the donkey when a young man passing by seized him by the arm and pulled him back on to the pavement. The old gentleman got angry and shouted at him: ‘Do you think I want your impudent help ? I can see where I am going as well as anyone.’

Then after a few more angry words, he stepped out, and walked bang into the donkey.

A Crocodile Story - 445

A Crocodile Story.

The crocodiles in African rivers are a great trouble to the poor villagers. Many of the men have scars on their legs, where they were seized when in the water. Then they would feel under the water for the eye of the beast, and plunge a knife into it, so that the crocodile would let them go. In the season of heavy rain you may meet large crocodiles walking on the paths. When the crocodile is hungry he will leap from the river on to a man drawing water. If he seizes the man he will push him into a hole in the bank under the water, and leave him there. They tell a story of one man who was so caught and pushed into a hole. The man was still alive, and he found that at the end of the hole there was no water. He could hear people walking about above his head. So he dug and dug with his fingers in the soft earth, and at last made a hole out, and got up on to the path, safe again.

The Wrong Answer - 444

The Wrong Answer.

A robber once, told one of his friends how he had got into a house in the middle of the night and stolen some goods. He said: ‘As I was just going away, the master of the house woke up and called out: “Who’s there?” ’

‘Then what did you do?’ asked the friend.

‘I mewed, and he said: “It’s only the cat,” and went to sleep again.’

The friend thought he would try the same plan. So at night he went to the same house, and helped himself to some clothes and jewels. As he was going off he happened to knock something over, and made a noise. The master of the house called out: ‘What's. that?’. ‘Only another cat,’ said the robber.

The Farmer and the Painter - 443

The Farmer and the Painter.

There was a certain farmer who wished to have a picture of his dead father as a memorial. So he went to a famous painter and said: ‘Will you kindly paint a portrait of my father?’

The painter said: ‘I have never seen your father, so how can I paint his picture?’

The farmer said: ‘You can’t see him, for he is dead and buried. But I will describe him for you.’

So the painter wrote down the description and did his best to make a picture from it. When he had finished it, he invited the farmer to go and see it. As soon as the farmer saw the portrait, lie said : ‘My goodness! How my father has changed since his death!’

The Man in the Bog - 442

The Man in the Bog.

Two Irishmen were crossing a bog when one of them fell into a hole of black, sticky mud. His companion ran off to a farmhouse they had passed on their way, and asked for a spade. The farmer asked him what he wanted it for.

‘A man I was with has fallen and got stuck in the bog, and I want to dig him out’, said the Irishman.

‘How deep has he sunk?’ asked the farmer.

‘Up to his ankles’, said the Irishman.

‘Then surely he can walk out, if you lend him a hand’, said the farmer.

‘Indeed he can’t’, said the Irishman. ‘He fell in head first!’

Real Charity - 441

Model Stories.

Real Charity.

When I hear people praising rich men who give thousands of rupees for the education of children, for the care of sick people and the support of those who are poor and old, I am filled with admiration, and my heart is touched.

But however much I am moved I cannot help remembering a poor labouring man and his wife who took an orphan child into their little tumble-down hut.

‘If we take the little one’, said the woman, ‘our last anna will go on her, and we shan’t have enough to buy a little salt to eat with our bread’.

‘Then we will do without salt’, answered her husband.

Short Stories - 440

Short Stories.

Little stories like these are striking and amusing, and that is what we wish stories to be. The oldest stories in the world are often very short, as you know from your Jathaka stories in the 550 Jatakas and Indian stories in the Panchatantra and other collections. They are often short because they contain only the most necessary things; there are no descriptions, no long conversations. We must imagine the characters and the scenes for ourselves. Now let us pass to longer stories. Here are a number of examples.

Cunning King - King Cunning - 439

Cunning King - King Cunning.

A thousand years ago King Olaf of Norway made a raid on the coast of Ireland. A multitude of sheep and cattle were driven down to the battleship. A farmer came to the King and begged him to give him back his cattle. King Olaf said: ‘You may have them if yon can separate them from the rest quickly. But I do not think you can do that, as there are so many hundreds of cattle.’

The farmer had a big yellow dog, which he sent among the herds, and the dog ran up and down among them all and found his master’s cattle one by one, and drove them aside. As these cattle were all marked with the same mark, it was clear that the dog knew perfectly well which were his master’s.

The king was astonished and praised the dog. ‘He is wonderfully clever, farmer. Will you give him to me.’

The farmer said he would gladly do so. Then the king at once gave him in return a large gold bracelet and promised to be friends with the farmer.

Hostility - 438

The Enmity.

A certain Japanese knight had two swords which he treasured. They lay one above the other on^ a wooden stand in the guest room.

One night, as he lay in his bedroom, he was wakened by a noise in the guest room. He got up quietly and opened the sliding doors between the two rooms. There, to his great wonder, he saw the two swords fighting each other. The fight continued for a time, and then the swords went back to their stand. And the knight then remembered that those swords had belonged to ancestors of his who were in the service of different lords. And those lords were bitter enemies. The lords were long since dead, but the swords had not forgotten the old enmity.

Leisure - 437

Leisure Time.

A famous violinist was staying in a hotel in London when one evening he heard a knock at his door. He opened the door, and saw a gentleman who begged pardon for intruding, and he asked if he might stay a while and listen to the violinist practising. The musician said he was welcome, and went on with his practising. After some time he stopped playing, and politely asked the stranger if he played any instrument. The gentleman said: 'I am a Dutch leather merchant, and am continually travelling on my business, so that I have very little leisure.' Then he invited the violinist into his room. There he opened a little case, and inside it was a flute, mounted in gold. He said: ‘Every Sunday evening I play that flute in the City Orchestra at Amsterdam'. And the violinist was happy that such a busy man should still find a little time every week for something better than selling goods.

Negative View - 436

Negative View.

A great Chinese painter once had a visit from the Lord of the province and his attendants. They were looking at a beautiful painting of a landscape of trees in a mountain valley. One of the attendants, who thought he would win his Lord’s attention, pointed out what he said was a fault in the painting of a rock. The painter was so offended at this that he stepped into the picture and disappeared among the trees.

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