author. There, spread out on his desk, are the verdicts of a hundred, a hundred and fiity, or two hundred critics, who have had no communication with each other. Thus the author can see at a glance the critical map of his world in regard to his story. It is often an amazing experience for him as he surveys that map.

as

"Out of, say, 150 criticisms, he will often find that 140 are in substantial agreement. Each critic has reached his conclusion by a road true to his mind, but all of these personal paths have run together into a common highway of thinking. It is amazing as would be the verdict in an imaginary case at law, in which 150 jurors should sift the evidence, each in solitary confinement, and then march back to the courtroom to give a verdict of acquittal or the reverse. Such a result as this could not possibly be reached unless these 150 human minds were working sincerely and intelligently. The knowledge that they do so work makes the author one in humanity with these workers, not one of whom he will possibly ever meet.

There is no measure of how vital such an experience is. Simply by it, we acquire faith in human nature. And the more faith an author has in human nature, the better his work will be. The less faith he has, the worse his work will be. All real literature is faith in human nature. Great satire seems to be an exception, for it is the literature of bitter attack. But great satire carries on the attack upon human nature always for the sake of making human nature grow right. As much as any other form of literature, great satire is, I say, founded on faith in human nature. Otherwise it cannot be great. Satire is the great scavenger of the Imagination in the Evolution of Life.

"Of course all the body of criticism does not consist of sympathies. A certain part of it may consist in nearly every case of antagonisms. The critic does not like your book, and like a man, or like a woman, he says so. That is bad for the critic and it is bad for the author. No progress is born of such antagonism. In nature. the thing that goes with all birth is not hatred; it is love.

To hate a book and to know that your book is hated is a black and damaging situation. It is just so much life taken out of both author and critic.

The

"To the question, what is the effect of criticism upon the reading public? the answer is there is no telling. This I do believe, that the best criticism of fiction written in this country at present comes in nearly every instance from the newspapers. "Technical knowledge is not the first requisite for the criticism of fiction. direct, primary, pre-civilized-you might say the instinctive animal and instinctive spiritual forces of your own nature are your best qualifications as a critic of imaginative literature. Added to these, a knowledge of technique is indispensable only when you seek to criticise a work on its technique. But the vast majority of reviewers are never going to criticise your work of fiction as anything more than a human document. Your readers will largely be affected by your technique if it is good. Comparatively few will be conscious of your technique if it is bad.

"In spite of the intimate relation that exists between the critics and the authors, almost complete silence reigns between them. There is little or no communication between the great body of newspaper critics and the body of creative workers who work side by side and never meet. They live on each other's sympathies, and never acknowledge each other. They constitute the biggest factor in each other's eyes and yet remain perfectly independent. Perhaps not one time in a hundred will a critic write to an author or an author write to a critic.

"There should be a word as to the inevitableness of this vast silence on each side of so much sympathy. It exists because you don't dare break it. You don't dare break it, because an expression of appreciation is an attempt at payment. The finest things cannot be paid for. One of them is duty. Duty pays for itself; and the critic in doing his duty in the review of a book is critic-paid and must not be author-paid. So that the author with 150 letters before him often wants to write 150 replies. Usually he

writes not one. The author knows that however his letter might be at first received, it would lie as a dead weight on the critic's mind, when the author's next book came to him for review. The attempt at payment would have bound the critic hand and foot.

"And this brings us to gratitude, which ends the whole matter. We often speak of gratitude as something that dwells on the heights of human nature. Rather, it dwells on its own peak and can never cross to others. In truth, there are whole planes of human nature where it never is found. You can't thank a fellow man for his friendship. No citizen can arise in a mass meeting of

citizens and thank them for respecting him. When the young lover addresses the one he loves and is accepted, he cannot possibly say I am much obliged to you.' A father cannot express gratitude to a son for reverencing him. Many upper regions of human nature are inaccessible to gratitude. What we call gratitude in the lower planes becomes transmuted in the upper into a thing altogether different. All that is noble in gratitude, if it ever scales other heights with its living energy, drops its heavy name, and reappears there as a less burdened spirit." James Ernest King.

The Boston Transcript.

What hope is held to-day for the romantic drama, or the drama of pure emotion? A complex scientific age has had its reflection in the theatre. It has brought with it- and not without regrettable consequences intellection, and the drama of social ideas as opposed to that of unalloyed emotion. That the thesis play, which seeks to prove a proposition; the problem play, which puts a question; and the propagandist play, which is avowedly missionary, are, more or less, an outgrowth of some passing phase in our highly artificial life, needs only to be stated to be believed. The future of any didactic literature doubtful; for its vitality and appeal must be enfeebled when the idea becomes out-of-date, or the particular problem treated has been solved by time. This fate awaits most contemporary plays whose tendency is to substitute for the portrayal of elemental and universal motives a protest against some existing evil or the expression of some idea. Scorning "native wood-notes wild" we take refuge in the inane causerie of the drawingroom, or we delight to represent the sordid aspects of modern life for sheer joy of the sordid, or perhaps baser motives.

It is pretty evident that the traditions of Shakspere, Molière, Calderon, Dumas the

elder, and Victor Hugo are being more and more discarded for the heritage of Ibsen. What has been the immediate effect on the atmosphere of modern drama? The light and airy touch has been abandoned for a melancholic pose; insurgency, and its distorted reflection, lubricity, have usurped the place of conciliatory humor; in a word, the idea has crowded out humanity.

All this has not been without its evil effects on the rising generation of dramatists. Sudermann, a frank imitator, Strindberg, in his more realistic moods, and Brieux have been held up as models for imitation. Rostand, it will be noted, is rarely mentioned; d'Annunzio is but slightly known to the general public, and such a figure as the late John M. Synge is tardily coming into his own. In America, it has been affirmed, a drama of the soil has been stifled by the importation of European distresses to be remedied - very real and poignant, it may be, abroad, but purely chimerical here.

At Wallack's, Louis M. Parker, a romantic dramatist of a very high order, has won a certain measure of success with his "Disraeli" and "Pomander Walk"; but his "Lady of Coventry" proved a flat failure. Why? Not because it was a bad piece of

It is important for writers to know the meanings of the words they use, and not to forget what familiar expressions originally meant. The expression "Man Runs Amuck," may pass, but the newspaper headline, "Man Runs an Exciting Muck," was inexcusable.

66

proper

"Most" is not properly used in the sense of "nearly." Almost" is the word. "Most" is often used colloquially for “almost,” but if written, it requires an apostrophe.

The words "cyclone" and "tornado are often wrongly used. A cyclone is a violent storm, covering a large area, with wind blowing around a calm centre of low atmospheric pressure so that for any given locality it may be regarded as a straight wind. The cyclone may cover several states or half of the United States. A tornado is a violent whirling wind revolving in a small area and progressing usually with much destruction. A cyclone may continue for several days, while a tornado lasts only a short time and usually occurs in the afternoon or evening.

"Strata" is the plural of "stratum," so that the proofreader of the Century Magazine should have corrected the sentence, The great strata of coal is soon to be worked."

"Annually" means recurring every year. The sentence, "At least 3,000,000 babies.

die annually in the United States" should read "each year in the United States," since one can die but once.

The growing use of "kids" and "kiddies " instead of the good English word "children" is to be regretted. Both of these slang terms should be avoided, both in writing and in speaking.

A mantle is a cloak. A mantel is a chimney-piece. Don't get the words confused. "Ever" is often misprinted for "even," and "even " for "ever," because writers are not careful about their handwriting.

After you have said: "The scene beggars description," don't try to describe it.

"Etc." is a very good abbreviation for business purposes, but its use in writing anything that has any claim to be literature should be avoided. Generally it can be omitted without being missed. If some such phrase is really needed, it is better to write "and so forth," or "and so on."

"Asphyxiated by gas" is not tautology. Asphyxia is a condition caused by interruption of respiration, as in suffocation or drowning, or the inhalation of irrespirable gases.

"Alumni" is properly used in speaking of the graduates of a men's college, but the graduates of a girls' college are "alumnae.” · Harvard has alumni; Vassar has alumnae ; the University of Michigan has both. CAMBRIDGE, Mass.

Edward B. Hughes.

THE WRITER is published the first day of every month. It will be sent, postpaid, ONE YEAR for ONE DOLLAR.

All drafts and money orders should be made payable to The Writer Publishing Co. Stamps, or local checks, should not be sent in payment for subscriptions.

THE WRITER will be sent only to those who have paid for it in advance. Accounts cannot be opened for subscriptions, and names will not be entered on the list unless the subscription order is accompanied by a remittance.

The American News Company, of New York, and the New England News Company, of Boston, and their branches, are wholesale agents for THE WRITER. It may be ordered from any newsdealer, or direct, by mail, from the publishers.

Not one line of paid advertisement will be printed in THE WRITER outside of the advertising pages.

Advertising in THE WRITER costs fifteen cents a line, or $2.10 an inch; seven dollars a quarter page; twelve dollars a half page; or twenty dollars a page, for one insertion, remittance with the order. Discounts are five, ten, and fifteen per cent. for three, six, and twelve months. For continued advertising payments must be made quarterly in advance.

**Contributions not used will be returned, if a stamped and addressed envelope is enclosed. THE WRITER PUBLISHING CO., 88 Broad Street, Room 416, BOSTON, MASS.

P. O. Box 1905.

producing. One appears in the Century. The editors say that Ellis Parker Butler adventurously submitted a story to them and it was suggested to Mr. Butler that some changes in the story might possibly improve it. This reply was forthcoming :

E. P. BUTLER LITERARY FACTORY
242 State St., Flushing, N. Y.
Department of
Correction and Repairs.

April 30, 1913.

Editor the Century Magazine, New York. Dear Sir

Regarding your menio. of yesterday in regard to the 1913-model story recently purchased by you from this company, would say we cannot understand why you have found so many repairs necessary. While we only guarantee our product from one year from date of purchase, all goods are examined before shipment, and should reach you in good condition, and stand any ordinary wear and tear for twelve months. We cannot understand your complaint. Is it not possible you have allowed sand to get in the gear box of the story?

However, we are shipping you by this same mail material to replace the unsatisfactory parts, Nos. 13 and 14, and trust that, with these in place, the purchase will give you good satisfaction. In case further trouble please address this depart

of any

m'ent.

E. P. Butler Literary Factory,

Per E. P. B.

E. P. 1.-E. P. B.
In answering this communication please refer to
Correction No. 987.564.

The other bit is a story told by the New York Tribune of a successful pen-and-ink artist who received the following printed circular from an automobile firm:

"You are cordially invited to participate in our grand $100 prize-drawing contest. Each participant may submit one or more drawings advertising our automobile, and the winner will receive a grand prize of $100. Drawings must be sent prepaid, they must be original, and all unsuccessful drawings will remain the property of the undersigned."

The artist, who can hardly be persuaded to make drawings at $1,000 apiece, smiled over this printed circular. Then he took a sheet of note paper, and wrote to the automobile firm :

You are cordially invited to participate in my grand $10 prize automobile contest. Each partici. pant may submit one or more automobiles, fully equipped, of his own manufacture, and the winner will receive a grand cash prize of $10 in gold. The automobile submitted should be brand-new, and must

be shipped freight prepaid to New York. The unsuccessful automobiles will remain the property of the undersigned."

A reader of THE WRITER asks whether this extract might be taken as a description of any book issued within the year:

"If in a picture, l'iso, you should see A handsome woman, with a fish's tail,

Or a man's head upon a horse's neck,

Or limbs of beasts of the most different kinds
Covered with feathers of all sorts of birds

Would you not laugh and think the painter mad?
Trust me that book is as ridiculous

Whose incoherent style, like sick men's dreams,
Varies all shapes and mixes all extremes."

Air

A prophecy regarding the newspaper of the future was made by Robert Donald, editor of the London Daily Chronicle, in his opening address as president of the Institute of Journalists. "The future methods of distribution," said he, "will be quicker and circulations will cover greater areas. ships and aeroplanes will be used for the most distant centres. Electric trains and motor-planes running in special tracks will also be used. In the chief centres of population, papers will be distributed by electric or pneumatic tubes. News will be collected by wireless telephones. The reporter will always have a portable telephone with him with which he can communicate with his paper. At the other end the wireless telephone message will be delivered to the subeditor printed in column form. At the people's recreation halls, with the cinematograph and gramophone, all the news of the day will be given. People may become too lazy to read, and news will be laid on to the house or office just as gas and water is

a reporter's message sent by wireless telephone can be delivered in the office of his newspaper "printed in column form."

W. H. H.

WRITERS OF THE DAY.

Herbert Coolidge, whose story, "The Lady's Man at the Show-Down," appeared in Collier's for July 5, is a California man, although he was born in Massachusetts. He grew up in Riverside, California, and spent five years specializing in English and sociology at Stanford University. Since leaving the university he has spent two years in Northern California among the Indians, doing missionary work and building up his health. He has spent several years in state sanitation work. During this time he has written stories which have appeared in the Youth's Companion, Outing, Out West, Sunset, and other magazines. His work deals with frontier life and conditions of the real West as he has known it. While a student he spent a summer in the high Sierras as forest ranger for the United States government. He has also traveled in Mexico and Lower California. Within the last few years he has settled down at his home, just outside Palo Alto, California, to devote his entire time to his literary work. His first book, "Pancho McClish," was published last fall by A. C. McClurg & Company. The Popular Magazine has accepted the serial rights of a second book, and Mr. Coolidge is now working on a third long story dealing with western life. He is a brother of Dane Coolidge, who is also a writer of western fiction.

Robert Welles Ritchie, who had a story, entitled Fate Maketh His Circuit," in the Popular Magazine for August 1, and who has other stories of Mexico in revolution yet to be published in the same magazine, gathered his color of the grim country south of the Rio Grande at first hand while serving as a correspondent for the New York Sun during the Madero revolution. He was in Mexico City at the time the aged “Lion of Pueblo," President Porfirio Diaz, resigned