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Graham smiled uncomfortably, but Bobby knew why the official failed to follow that radical course. Like Howells, he hesitated to remove from the Cedars the person most likely to solve its mystery. As long as a chance remained that Howells had been right about Bobby he would give Silas Blackburn's grandson his head, merely making sure, as he had done this morning, that there should be no escape.
Howells have taught us that men and women are creatures of infinitely complicated structure, and that even the least of these complications, if it is portrayed at all, is worth portraying truthfully.
Whatever view of life may be expressed in "The Mayor of Casterbridge," for example, is imbedded, as it should be, in the course of the story. This tendency towards didacticism is a common thing in the cases of modern writers of fiction; it spoiled a great novelist in the case of Tolstoy, with compensatory gains in another direction; of those of English stock, one thinks of Eliot, Howells, Mrs.
William Dean Howells, General Grant, General Sherman, Phillips Brooks, General Sheridan, Canon Farrar, Cardinal Gibbons, Marion Harland, Margaret Sangster the most prominent men and women of the day, some of whom had never written for magazines began to appear in the young editor's contents. Each contributor had come gratuitously to the aid of the editor.
I am studying Arithmetic, English Literature, English History, German, Latin, and advanced geography; there is a great deal of preparatory reading required, and, as few of the books are in raised print, poor Teacher has to spell them all out to me; and that means hard work. You must tell Mr. Howells when you see him, that we are living in his house....
One of the two windows of the room was a little raised, but the blinds were closely drawn. "I did hate him," he mused. "There's that. Ever since I can remember he did things to make me despise him. Have have you seen him?" Graham nodded. "Howells took me in. He looked perfectly normal not a mark." "I don't want to see him," Bobby said. He drew back from the window, pointing.
Two of the best known writers of New England fiction in this period were not natives of the soil, though they surpassed most native New Englanders in their understanding of the type. They were William Dean Howells and Henry James. Mr.
Howells, did not come to him "till after his liberation from neighbourhood in the vaster far West."
Emerson turned the conversation to Howells himself and asked him what he had written for the Atlantic. Howells replied, and Emerson took down the bound volumes and carefully affixed Howells' initials to the poems. "He followed me to the door, still speaking of poetry, and as he took a kindly enough leave of me, he said one might very well give a pleasant hour to it now and then."
The coroner who had been busy at the bed glanced up. "No mark at all. If Howells wasn't asleep, his murderer must have been invisible as well as noiseless." Doctor Groom smiled. The coroner glared at him. "I suggest, Mr. District Attorney," he squeaked, "that the ordinary layman wouldn't know that this type of wound would cause immediate death."
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