are not moved. We are
only glad.)

They gavel me, these stale and overworked stage directions, these carbon
films that got burnt out long ago and cannot now carry any faintest
thread of light. It would be well if they could be relieved from duty
and flung out in the literary back yard to rot and disappear along
with the discarded and forgotten "steeds" and "halidomes" and similar
stage-properties once so dear to our grandfathers. But I am friendly to
Mr. Howells's stage directions; more friendly to them than to any one
else's, I think. They are done with a competent and discriminating art,
and are faithful to the requirements of a state direction's proper and
lawful office, which is to inform. Sometimes they convey a scene and
its conditions so well that I believe I could see the scene and get the
spirit and meaning of the accompanying dialogue if some one would read
merely the stage directions to me and leave out the talk. For instance,
a scene like this, from THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY:

"... and she laid her arms with a beseeching gesture on her father's
shoulder."

"... she answered, following his gesture with a glance."

"... she said, laughing nervously."

"... she asked, turning swiftly upon him that strange, searching
glance."

"... she answered, vaguely."

"... she reluctantly admitted."

"... but her voice died wearily away, and she stood looking into his
face with puzzled entreaty."

Mr. Howells does not repeat his forms, and does not need to; he can
invent fresh ones without limit. It is mainly the repetition over and
over again, by the third-rates, of worn and commonplace and juiceless
forms that makes their novels such a weariness and vexation to us, I
think. We do not mind one or two deliveries of their wares, but as we
turn the pages over and keep on meeting them we presently get tired of
them and wish they would do other things for a change.

"... replied Alfred, flipping the ash from his cigar."

"... responded Richard, with a laugh."

"... murmured Gladys, blushing."

"... repeated Evelyn, bursting into tears."

"... replied the Earl, flipping the ash from his cigar."

"... responded the undertaker, with a laugh."

"... murmured the chambermaid, blushing."

"... repeated the burglar, bursting into tears."

"... replied the conductor, flipping the ash from his cigar."

"... responded Arkwright, with a laugh."

"... murmured the chief of police, blushing."

"... repeated the ho