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Updated: May 28, 2025
My Transatlantic readers will never have to grow accustomed to speak of Mr. Lowell as the Earl of Mount Auburn, and I firmly believe that Mr. Howells would consider it a chastisement to be hopelessly ennobled.
Jack was a close friend of Howells, so he'll make a good job of it, but I thought it was time I came myself to see what the devil's going on in this house." The lank man nodded. "You're right, Mr. Robinson. There'll be no more nonsense about the case. If Howells had made an arrest he might be alive this minute." Bobby's heart sank. These men would act from a primary instinct of revenge.
Howells drew near the great field of novel-writing, and how deliberately he laid the foundations of his art.
Howells is too often tempted to neglect: I mean himself? A poet, a finished artist, a man in love with the appearances of life, a cunning reader of the mind, he has other passions and aspirations than those he loves to draw. And why should he suppress himself and do such reverence to the Lemuel Barkers?
Two chairs had been placed in the broken doorway. Graham sat there. He arose and greeted the doctor. "Nothing has happened since I left?" Bobby asked. Graham shook his head. "Katherine and I have watched every minute." Doctor Groom walked to the bed and for a long time looked down at Howells. Once he put out his hand, quickly withdrawing it.
Bok now felt that he had given the newspapers enough ammunition to last for some time; and he turned his attention to building up a more permanent basis for his magazine. The two authors of that day who commanded more attention than any others were William Dean Howells and Rudyard Kipling.
There are papers for babes, boys, girls, the sick and the well. The most conspicuous literary names before the people are Howells, Twain, and Harte, though one hears of scores of novelists, who, I believe, will be forgotten in a decade or so. As I have said previously, I am always joked with about the "Heathen Chinee."
I have a mission in life which I hold as sacred as my good friend Mr. Howells holds his. Such phases of life as I see I put down faithfully, and if the Fates in their wisdom have chosen to make of me the Balzac of the Supernatural, the Shakespeare of the Midnight Visitation, while elevating Mr.
Howells has known the books of our new national era as no one else could have known them. Some future historian of the period may piece together, from no other sources than Mr. Howells's writings, an unrivaled picture of our book-making during more than sixty years.
Isabel had been preparing for the passage of this bridge ever since she left Boston. "Never!" she exclaimed. She instantly closed her eyes, and hid her face in her handkerchief. Thanks to this precaution of hers, the train crossed the bridge in perfect safety. By William Dean Howells
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