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An event, however, called me suddenly home. Politics and journalism knocked literature sky high, and the novel it was entitled "One Story's Good Till Another Is Told" was laid by and quite forgotten. Some twenty years later, at a moment when I was being lashed from one end of the line to the other, my wife said: "Let us drop the nasty politics and get back to literature."
These data reconcile, in part, the conflicting points of view, or at least show the tenability of each. In addition to the first requisite of struggle, "the story's the thing," the judges sought originality, excellence in organization of plot incidents, skill in characterization, power in moving emotions and, again, they differed over their findings.
You know she has one of those passions for Captain Beauchamp which completely blind women to right and wrong. He is her saint, let him sin ever so! The story's in everybody's mouth. By the way, Palmet saw her. He describes her pale as marble, with dark long eyes, the most innocent look in the world, and a walk, the absurd fellow says, like a statue set gliding. No doubt Frenchwomen do walk well.
They are a savage edition of the METAMORPHOSES, and few unbiased students now doubt that the METAMORPHOSES are a very late and very artificial version of traditional tales as savage in origin as those of the Noongahburrah. I have read Mrs. Parker's collection with very great interest, with "human pleasure," merely for the story's sake.
"Uh, huh," said the prosecuting attorney at the conclusion of the tale, "your story's all right, but the only trouble is that it won't do here. They won't believe you. Now, I'm a friend to niggers as much as any white man can be, if they'll only be friends to themselves, an' I want to help you two all I can. There's only one way out of this trouble. You must confess that you did this."
'When my Em'ly took flight, he said, in stern wrath for the moment, 'from the house wheer she was made a prisoner by that theer spotted snake as Mas'r Davy see, and his story's trew, and may GOD confound him! she took flight in the night. It was a dark night, with a many stars a-shining. She was wild.
"I've sat and looked on a little when mother's been teaching the children their ABC. It's nothing at all if your upper story's all right." "Pelle'll be going to school soon," said Lasse reflectively. "And then perhaps I could for it would be nice. But I don't suppose I've got the head for it, do you? No, I'm sure I haven't got the head for it," he repeated in quite a despairing tone.
An event, however, called me suddenly home. Politics and journalism knocked literature sky high, and the novel it was entitled "One Story's Good Till Another Is Told" was laid by and quite forgotten. Some twenty years later, at a moment when I was being lashed from one end of the line to the other, my wife said: "Let us drop the nasty politics and get back to literature."
Webster soon afterward, he mentioned this idea to him and inquired whether it could possibly have any foundation in fact. "Certainly it has," replied Mr. Webster. "Don't you remember our conversations during the long walks we took together last summer at Newport, while in attendance on Story's court?" It flashed across Mr. Whipple's mind that Mr.
Story's Nero, for, although by his preface it appears that the publication did not follow the writing for several years, it comes to the world in the wake of the aforementioned works. It is to be remembered that Mr. Story's pen is as versatile as his talent is various.
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