emphasis of the initial and the terminal position is,
in the short-story, a matter of prime importance. The opening of
a perfectly constructed tale fulfils two purposes, one of which is
intellectual and the other emotional. Intellectually, it indicates
clearly to the reader whether, in the narrative that follows,
the element of action, or of character, or of setting is to be
predominant,--in other words, which of the three sorts of narrative
effect the story is intended to produce. Emotionally, it strikes the
key-note and suggests the tone of the entire story. Edgar Allan Poe,
in his greatest tales, planned his openings infallibly to fulfil these
purposes. He began a story of setting with description; a story of
character with a remark made by, or made about, the leading actor; and
a story of action with a sentence pregnant with potential incident.
Furthermore, he conveyed in his very first sentence a subtle sense of
the emotional tone of the entire narrative.

In opening his short-stories, Hawthorne showed himself far inferior to
his great contemporary. Only unawares did he occasionally hit upon the
inevitable first sentence. Often he wasted time at the beginning by
writing an unnecessary introduction; and frequently he began upon
the wrong track, by suggesting character at the outset of a story of
action, or suggesting setting at the outset of a story of character.
The tale of "The Gentle Boy," for instance, which was one of the
first to attract attention to his genius, begins unnecessarily with an
historical essay of three pages; and it is not until the narrative is
well on its way that the reader is able to sense the one thing that it
is all about.

Mr. Rudyard Kipling, in his earlier stories, employed a method of
opening which is worthy of careful critical consideration. In "Plain
Tales from the Hills" and the several volumes that followed it within
the next few years, his habit was to begin with an expository essay,
filling the space of a paragraph or two, in which he stated the theme
of the story he was about to tell. "This is what the story is to deal
with," he would say succinctly: "Now listen to the tale itself." This
method is extremely advantageous on the score of economy. It gives
the reader at the outset an intellectual possession of the theme; and
knowing from the very beginning the effect designed to be produced,
he can follow with the greater economy of attention the narrative that
produces it. But,