The remark, let us say, that the whale is a mammal, or the remark that sixteen ounces go to a pound, is equally true, and means exactly the same thing, whether we state it at the beginning of a conversation or at the end, whether we print it in a dictionary or chalk it up on a wall.

But if we take some phrase commonly used in the art of literature--such a sentence, for the sake of example, as "the dawn was breaking"-- the matter is quite different.

If the sentence came at the beginning of a short story, it might be a mere descriptive prelude.

If it were the last sentence in a short story, it might be poignant with some peculiar irony or triumph.

Can any one read Browning's great monologues and not feel that they are built up like a good short story, entirely on this principle of the value of language arising from its arrangement.