ool-boy and gray-beard alike. He splashed his paint on
a great canvas with a whitewash brush, so to speak; it will not bear
minute examination; but at a distance, with the right perspective, it
fairly glows with life. No other American novelist has added to fiction
three such characters as those we have mentioned; into those he breathed
the breath of life--the supreme achievement of the novelist.

For seventeen years after the publication of "The Spy," Cooper had no
considerable American rival. Then, in 1837, the publication of a little
volume called "Twice-Told Tales" marked the advent of a greater than he.
No one to-day seriously questions Nathaniel Hawthorne's right to first
place among American novelists, and in the realm of the short story he
has only one equal, Edgar Allan Poe.

We shall speak of Poe more at length as a poet; but it is curious and
interesting to contrast these two men, contemporaries, and the most
significant figures in the literature of their country--Poe, an actor's
child, an outcast, fighting in the dark with the balance against him,
living a tragic life and dying a tragic death, leaving to America the
purest lyrics and most compelling tales ever produced within her
borders; Hawthorne, a direct descendant of the Puritans, a recluse and a
dreamer, his delicate genius developing gradually, marrying most
happily, leading an idyllic family life, winning success and substantial
recognition, which grew steadily until the end of his career, and which
has, at least, not diminished--could any contrast be more complete?

[Illustration: HAWTHORNE]

Nathaniel Hawthorne was a direct descendant of that William Hawthorne
who came from England in 1630 with John Winthrop in the "Arabella," and
was born at Salem, Massachusetts, the family's ancestral home, in 1804.
He was a classmate of Longfellow at Bowdoin College, graduating without
especial distinction, and spending the twelve succeeding years at Salem,
living a secluded life in accordance with his abnormally shy and
sensitive disposition. He was already resolved on the literary life, and
spent those years in solitary writing. The result was a morbid novel,
"Fanshawe," and a series of short stories, none of which attracted
especial attention or gave indication of more than average talent. Not
until 1837 did he win any measure of success, but that year saw the
publication of the first series of "Twice-Told Tales," which, by their
charm and delicacy, won hi