clear shade of tan, and the half
dozen freckles, friendly remembrancers of the April sun and
breeze--precisely give us the right to call her beautiful.
But there was both luster and depth in her eyes. She was
very pretty; as graceful as a bird and graceful much in the
same way; as pleasant about the house as a gleam of sunshine
falling on the floor through a shadow of twinkling leaves,
or as a ray of firelight that dances on the wall while
evening is drawing nigh.

Contrast this with the newspaper sentence and the sensation is one of
pain. Again I say, observe the method by which Hawthorne gets his
effect, the simplicity of the language, the balance of the sentences,
the reserve, the refinement, and the final imaginative touch in the
charming comparison with which the passage ends.

To blame the hard working men who write for the day which is passing
over them because they do not write like Sterne and Hawthorne would be
as absurd as it would be unjust. But they ought to recognize the
qualities of fine English prose, they ought to remember that they can
improve their readers by giving them good, simple English, pure and
undefiled, and they ought not to debauch the public taste by vulgar
fine writing and even more vulgar light writing. In short, they ought
to write for the public as they would talk to their wives and children
and friends; a little more formally and carefully perhaps, but in the
same simple and direct fashion.

For the prolific authors of the flood of stories, which every month
bears on its broad bosom many tons of advertisements, no such
allowance need be made. They are not compelled to furnish copy between
daylight and dark. They need a course of study in English prose more
than anyone else, and they would profit by the effort. As a class
they seem to be like the young man in Du Maurier's picture, who, being
asked if he had read Thackeray, replies, "No. I nevah read novels; I
write them."

In this age of quickening movement and restless haste it is, above all
things, important to struggle against the well-nigh universal
inclination to abandon all efforts for form and style. They are the
great preservers of what is best in literature, the salt which ought
never to lose its savor. Those who use English in public speech and
public writing have a serious responsibility too generally forgotten
and disregarded. I would fain call attention to it altho no single man