and an alteration well worth making near the end of a paragraph may be scarcely worth while if it happens to occur a dozen lines from the end, and if these lines will have to be "overrun." Frequently one change with a little ingenuity

Simi

may be made so as to balance another. larly, if words enough to make a whole line are added or subtracted, the correction takes a comparatively short time. M. L. Allen

CAMBRIDGE, Mass.

Advertisements occasionally appear in the columns of the daily press of persons, who, for a consideration, offer to criticise, correct, and revise manuscripts. These people invariably have "an extensive acquaintance" with publishers and editors, and profess themselves fitted to tell the young and inexperienced writer just why his articles do not sell, to point out his faults, correct his grammatical errors, cut out his superfluous words, and even to find a market for his wares.

Periodical literature has multiplied wonderfully in the last twenty years, and ten people write for the press now where one did then. Bureaus of criticism and literary information are a necessity, and are doing admirable work. Even experienced authors are glad to avail themselves of the aid which comes in this way, and many a young writer, who really has something to say, but no idea of how or where to say it, would never get into print at all except for the suggestions he receives from some reliable critic. The Writer's Literary Bureau is doing good, effective work of this sort, and is not to be confounded with irresponsible persons, who advertise without name or reference.

An advertisement of such a person met the eye of a young friend of mine who is trying to train herself for authorship. She promptly packed up a story she had written and sent it off, accompanied by its fee, to be read, criticised, and, if possible, sold. In due time a flattering letter came from the critic: "The story was admirable. Required very little alteration. Would, undoubtedly, soon be sold," etc. But no news of a purchaser came, and, after

waiting a long time, my friend grew impatient and took her story into her own hands. In a few days she brought it to me.

"What am I to do?" she asked. "Just think of it. That story has been offered to no end of publishers as my work. I shall never dare send out anything of my own again."

I could not blame her. The manuscript was battered, soiled, worn, black with erasures and alterations, and thoroughly disreputable in its general appearance.

persons conversing. The silly, disjointed chatter of a witless old lady was changed to perfectly well-rounded sentences. To emphasize the fact that the scene was laid in a remote country district, where the people lived in primitive fashion, the village clock in the story is heard striking ten, long after the inhabitants are in bed. The critic changed this to twelve, and, soon afterward, finding an allusion to midnight, which did not agree with this change, essayed to remodel the sentence to suit herself, and left it with a singular nominative and a plural verb. The subjunctive "were " was changed to was." Capital letters were sprinkled about regardless of rule or usage. Spelling, fortunately, had not been interfered with, but punctuation had been most surprisingly changed. Exclamation points bristled up where they never were heard of before, and

"

commas pushed themselves between verbs and their objects. "Berry' was inserted between "elder" and "bush," which is not according to Gray; but, on the other hand, the word "tunes" was erased, leaving the heroine to play hymns on the organ, a rather singular proceeding.

Instances of such "editing" could be multiplied indefinitely. My poor little friend, who hopes to write much and well sometime, was in despair. To be forced to rewrite the story is bad enough, but not so bad as the knowledge that an ungrammatical, ill-constructed, badlypunctuated piece of work has been offered in her name. It is a discouraging and disheartening experience, and the moral - well, the moral is, do not trust your manuscripts to the hands of irresponsible persons.

MALDEN, Mass.

Matthew Marvin.

It is not attempted in the following sketch to enter upon an analysis of Mr. Woodberry's literary achievements or to please those who may have a relish for personal details of the lives of those who are to some extent public property. Interest in a rising reputation, however, is something healthier than mere curiosity, and to recognize it as such is harmless, if within the limits of taste.

Some brief notice of the main events of the life of Mr. Woodberry may properly begin with the date of his birth, May 12, 1855. The family is an old one in and about Beverly, Mass., his native town. There came to him slowly through boyhood the informing influence of the sea, which outlasted the impression, so intensely felt by many, of the prairie experience of later years. His "North Shore Watch," that strong and tender threnody upon the friend of his boyhood, shows plainly what the faith and what the yearnings of his early youth were. In

1872 he entered Harvard College with the class of 1876, but was obliged from sickness to join the next class, with which he graduated in 1877. His literary career had begun to shape itself in those four years, throughout which he contributed a number of poems to the Harvard Advocate, of which he was a leading editor. A culling of these early efforts was published in the first series of the "Verses from the Harvard Advocate." There appeared also, just after graduation, a small edition of a now scarce little pamphlet, containing a commencement oration, which Woodberry did not deliver. It was entitled "The Relation of Pallas Athene to Athens." Twice within a few years after he had gone from Harvard, Mr. Woodberry was called to the University of Nebraska at Lincoln to fill the chair, first of English literature and history, then of English language and literature. Educational affairs seldom run smoothly at first in the newer centres of the West, and

Lincoln was not an exception in this respect. In 1882 his relations with the university were severed, and he found himself back at Beverly, where he remained until 1885; during these three years appeared his " History of Woodengraving"; a small privately printed edition of his "North Shore Watch"; and his widelyknown "Edgar Allan Poe." Then followed two trips to Italy, one in 1885 and the other in 1888-89; on neither occasion did he re main long. The beginning of the year just passed saw the publication of the "North Shore Watch and Other Poems," which was followed in the fall by his "Studies in Letters and Life." The first of these two books has garnered the best of his poems, including the "My Country," which Professor Paine has used as the text for his cantata, performed in 1888 at the great Cincinnati festival. Wood berry's latest volume includes some of the long est and most important of his prose efforts o the past twelve years. Since 1878, the year in which he came back from his first Westernf professorship, he has been a frequent and always a valued contributor to the literary part of the Nation. Until the editorship of the Atlantic Monthly lately changed hands, Wood berry also wrote frequently for that magazine' besides, during some of the later years and until recently, giving the Boston Post the bene. fit of his critical opinions upon newer and more important books. It will be noticed that most of his work of the more constant sort has largely been anonymous, unless, indeed, it be true that the writings of a man of marked abil. ity cannot long remain unrecognized, at least by his friends.

In the career of letters a disordered dream will to some always be preferable to the most peaceful reality, and to such a life like Wood berry's must seem uneventful indeed. With part of the year spent in his home at Beverly and the rest in Boston among his friends, which, like a wise man's wants, are few but well chosen, his habits are almost as quiet as those of a recluse. He is a member of one of Boston's least ostentatious though pleasantest of clubs, but he is not a familiar figure at receptions or afternoon teas. The manners of a gen tleman, like his dress, fit him unnoticeably, and

ence

such a one has to be known long and ntimately to be known at all. No "picture" will tell adequately of his kindly smile, of his charming ease, and of his courteous desire that those with him should be made happy by his presthese moods and mental lights and shadows do not present themselves even to the friendliest of cameras. It is easy to discern, however, that Woodberry is in his sympathies and his large creed a cosmopolitan, but he is profoundly an American, too optimistic an American some have thought. While he is both of these excellent things, he is essentially in his physical and mental composition a New England Yankee of the finer type.

Resembling them in some of his traits, and possessing in his literary faith some of their sternness, Mr. Woodberry would appear to be in the line of direct descent from those who have gone before him in the intellectual history of New England. To-day, almost as much as ever before, this part of the world of thought remains self-centred and self-contained. It cannot justly be said that New England scholarship is provincial while the two great universities if such they are still maintain their prestige. Barren of soil, it has been fertile in men of fine capacities. There has, to be sure, been none of the stimulus of a great metropolis, where large minds naturally centre, and yet there has been no lack of the wisdom of the world. Literature here, always generously fostered, has not been of artificial growth and of feverish intensity. Slower methods of thought have prevailed, and what has been done has been well done, and some of it is likely to live. It is not meant to draw any too close comparison between other New England authors and Mr. Woodberry, or to say that he is in any sense a follower or imitator. One so absolutely a man of letters New England has seldom cherished. There are, however, in him several sound native inheritances. His austerity and firmness are the preservers of one who feels himself to be treading the safe path. There is no lack of kindliness and ease of manner withal, but neither is there shrinking from a task. The study of Poe gives ample evidence of this. He is a believer in certain definite, critical, and artistic methods. Working on lines long since

laid down and now well established, he is in harmony with the traditions adjudged safest and best in the higher pursuits of literature. Of far too nice perceptions both as a critic and as a poet, one would look to him in vain for anything outwardly eccentric or affected. This would be as true of Woodberry's personality as of his writings. Whatever is individual to him, his remarkable ripeness of judgment, the winning frankness of his disposition, and the admirable strength of his convictions, these

qualities and attributes are not easy or suitable to write of familiarly, but are to be discovered slowly, until, as acquaintance ripens, conviction comes that here is no common man.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing in a literary life like Mr. Woodberry's - and here he reminds one, as he does not infrequently, of able Englishmen of his profession — is that apparently there has never been any tentative period in his career, but that he has always been writing soundly, cautiously, and acceptably.

Some writers of fiction habitually repeat the word "said" in recording conversation until it becomes monotonous and wearisome. On a single page of a volume by a famous woman the word occurs twenty times. By reason of its commonness, the frequent repetition may be unnoticeable to the interested reader, but the critic is led to suspect either hasty composition or a wofully meagre vocabulary. Why not, by way of variation, employ a synonym occasionally? Why not use a word that conveys not only the idea of simple utterance, but that is expressive of the tone of the utterance, of the action accompanying it, of the emotion that fathers it?

The intelligent use of such words materially emphasizes a situation, lends naturalness, vividness, and force to the narrative, and evinces a mastery of the true art of story-telling, a prime principle of which is the expression of much meaning in a few words.

I have been at some pains to compile a list of words for quick reference, which comprises, I think, most of the terms which may be employed as variations of "said," and having found it helpful in my work, I venture to print it for the possible benefit of those who have no list of their own. All the words below are sanctioned by the usage of standard writers.