One is sometimes asked about the “obstacles” that confront young writers who are trying to do good work. I should say the greatest obs...

It was, I think, in the spring of ’94 that a slender, narrow-chested fellow in a shabby grey suit, with a soft felt hat pulled low ove...

A new and a great book has been written. The name of it is “McTeague, a Story of San Francisco,” and the man who wrote it is Mr. Frank...

This truly remarkable book is printed on dirty gray blotting paper, on each page of which is a mere dot of print over a large I of vac...

A Creole “Bovary” is this little novel of Miss Chopin’s. Not that the heroine is a creole exactly, or that Miss Chopin is a Flaubert—s...

Unusual interest is attached to the posthumous work of that great man whose career ended so prematurely and so tragically. The story i...

Their mania for careless and hasty work is not confined to the lesser men. Howells and Hardy have gone with the crowd. Now that Steven...

Speaking of monuments reminds one that there is more talk about a monument to Walt Whitman, “the good, gray poet.” Just why the adject...

My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never Regretting its roses, Its old agitations Of myrtle...

Certainly now in his old age Mr. Howells is selecting queer titles for his books. A while ago we had that feeble tale, “The Coast of B...

If there is anything which should make an American sick and disgusted at the literary taste of his country, and almost swerve his alle...

Kitty Ayrshire had a cold, a persistent inflammation of the vocal cords which defied the throat specialist. Week after week her name...

Marshall McKann followed his wife and her friend Mrs. Post down the aisle and up the steps to the stage of the Carnegie Music Hall w...

I I first became aware that Cressida Garnet was on board when I saw young men with cameras going up to the boat deck. In that ex...

I Don Hedger had lived for four years on the top floor of an old house on the south side of Washington Square, and nobody had ever...

I received one morning a letter, written in pale ink on glassy, blue-lined notepaper, and bearing the postmark of a little Nebraska vi...

A group of the townspeople stood on the station siding of a little Kansas town, awaiting the coming of the night train, which was alre...

A Study in Temperament It was Paul's afternoon to appear before the faculty of the Pittsburgh High School to account for his v...

Near Rattlesnake Creek, on the side of a little draw stood Canute's shanty. North, east, south, stretched the level Nebraska plain...

The sequence of events was such that MacMaster did not make his pilgrimage to Hugh Treffinger's studio until three years after tha...