William Atkinson - The Complete Works of William Walker Atkinson

“Will led the way to the trellis, and got a lamp lighted, and a bottle uncorked. He was not altogether unused to such complimentary interviews, and hoped little enough from this one, being schooled in many disappointments. A sort of cloud had settled on his wits and prevented him from remembering the strangeness of the hour. He moved like a person in his sleep; and it seemed as if the lamp caught fire and the bottle came uncorked with the facility of thought. Still, he had some curiosity about the appearance of his visitor, and tried in vain to turn the light into his face; either he handled the light clumsily, or there was a dimness over his eyes; but he could make out little more than a shadow at table with him. He stared and stared at this shadow, as he wiped out the glasses, and began to feel cold and strange about the heart. The silence weighed upon him; for he could hear nothing now, not even the river, but the drumming of his own arteries in his ears.

‘“Here’s to you,’ said the stranger roughly. ‘Here is my service, sir,’ replied Will sipping his wine, which somehow tasted oddly. ‘I understand you are a very positive fellow,’ pursued the stranger. Will made answer with a smile of some satisfaction and a little nod. ‘So am I,’ continued the other, ‘and it is the delight of my heart to tramp on people’s corns. I will have nobody positive but myself; not one. I have crossed the whims, in my time, of kings and generals and great artists. And what would you say,’ he went on, ‘If I had come up here on purpose to cross yours.’ Will had it on his tongue to make a sharp rejoinder; but the politeness of the old innkeeper prevailed, and he held his peace and made answer with a civil gesture of the hand ‘I have,’ said the stranger. ‘And If I did not hold you in a particular esteem, I should make no words about the matter. It appears you pride yourself on staying where you are. You mean to stick by your inn. Now I mean you shall come for a turn with me in my barouche; and before this bottle’s empty, so you shall.’ ‘That would be an odd thing, to be sure,’ replied Will with a chuckle. ‘Why, sir, I have grown here like an old oak tree; the Devil himself could hardly root me up; and for all I perceive you are a very entertaining old gentleman, I would wager you another bottle you lose your pains with me.’ The dimness of Will’s eyesight had been increasing all this while; but he was somewhat conscious of a sharp and chilling scrutiny which irritated and yet overwhelmed him. ‘You need not think,’ he broke out suddenly, in an explosive, febrile manner which startled and alarmed himself, ‘that I am a stay-at-home, because I fear anything under God. God knows I am tired enough of it all; and when the time comes for a longer journey than ever you dream of, I reckon I shall find myself prepared.’ The stranger emptied his glass and pushed it away from him. He looked down for a little, and then, leaning over the table, tapped Will three times upon the forearm with a single finger. ‘The time has come,’ he said solemnly.

“An ugly thrill spread from the spot be touched. The tones of his voice were dull and startling, and echoed strangely in Will’s heart. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, with some discomposure. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Look at me, and you will find your eyesight swim. Raise your hand; it is dead-heavy. This is your last bottle of wine, Master Will, and your last night upon the earth.’ ‘You are a doctor?’ quavered Will. ‘The best that ever was,’ replied the other; ‘for I cure both mind and body with the same prescription. I take away all pain and I forgive all sins; and where my patients have gone wrong in life, I smooth out all complications and set them free again upon their feet.’ ‘I have no need of you,’ said Will. ‘A time comes for all men, Master Will,’ replied the doctor, ‘when the helm is taken out of their hands. For you, because you were prudent and quiet, it has been long of coming, and you have had long to discipline yourself for its reception. You have seen what is to be seen about your mill; you have sat close all your days like a hare in its form: but now that is at an end; and,’ added the doctor, getting on his feet, ‘you must arise and come with me.’ ‘You are a strange physician,’ said Will, looking steadfastly upon his guest. ‘I am a natural law,’ he replied, ‘and people call me Death.’

“‘Why did you not tell me so at first?’ cried Will, ‘I have been waiting for you these many years. Give me your arm, and welcome.’ ‘Lean upon my arm,’ said the stranger, ‘for already your strength abates. Lean on me heavily as you need; for, though I am old, I am very strong. It is but three steps to my carriage, and there all your trouble ends. Why, Will,’ he added, ‘I have been yearning for you as if you were my own son; and of all the men that ever I came for in my long days, I have come to you most gladly. I am caustic, and sometimes offend people at first sight; but I am a good friend at heart to such as you.’ ‘Since Marjory was taken,’ returned Will, ‘I declare before God you were the only friend I had to look for.’ So the pair went arm in arm across the courtyard.

“One of the servants awoke about this time, and heard the noise of horses pawing before he dropped asleep again; all down the valley that night there was a rushing as of a smooth and steady wind descending toward the plain; and when the world rose next morning, sure enough, Will o’ the Mill had gone at last upon his travels.”

Expositive Discourse deals with the statement of a theme in a logical manner, independent of its time or space relations. “Exposition” means: “The act of exposing, laying open or bare, or displaying to public view; an explanation or interpretation; the act of expounding or setting out the meaning.” Hyslop says: “Exposition is a process that deals largely, if not wholly, with abstract and general conceptions, while pure Description and Narration will be occupied with concrete things, and will consider individual objects and their qualities without distinction between the essential and the accidental. But Exposition when dealing with the thought wholes must limit its process to the essential properties or events brought together.”

Hill says: “Exposition may be briefly defined as explanation . It does not address the imagination, the feelings, or the will. It addresses the understanding exclusively, and it may deal with any subject-matter with which the understanding has to do. In the fact that Exposition does not appeal to the emotions lies the essential difference between Exposition and Description or Narration. Theoretically, Exposition treats the matter in hand with absolute impartiality, setting forth the pure truth ,—the truth unalloyed by prejudice, pride of opinion, exaggeration of rhetoric, or glamour of sentiment. Except in works of a technical character, Exposition in this strict sense is comparatively rare.”

While Description and Narrative are concerned with the statement of things or events, Exposition is limited to abstract subjects or general ideas , as for example: Truth; Time; Space; Beauty; Science; Philosophy; Religion; or Man (in the abstract); the Renaissance; the New Thought; Courage, etc. A true Definition is an Exposition. A scientific description is often really an Exposition, as for example Prof. Lodge’s lectures on “The Ether of Space.” A consideration of the abstract qualities of a concrete thing is also an Exposition. The prime requisite of a good Exposition is clearness , and clearness is gained only by logical and orderly arrangement. As an authority has said: “Good arrangement is at least one-half of sound exposition. Order is often equivalent to explanation.” The authorities agree that the best arrangement consists in beginning with the simpler phases of the subject—the features best understood by the hearer—and then gradually proceeding, by logical steps, to the more complex and less understood phases or features.