saved by his extremely intelligent, sympathetic point of view. He saw the
whole of each character, each conflict that he was sent to study. If the
point of the story was the good side of human nature--some act of
generosity or self-sacrifice--he did not exaggerate it into godlike heroism
but adjusted it in its proper prospective by bringing out its human quality
and its human surroundings. If the main point was violence or sordidness or
baseness, he saw the characteristics which relieved and partially redeemed
it. His news-reports were accounts of the doings not of angels or devils
but of human beings, accounts written from a thoroughly human standpoint.

Here lay the cause of his success. In all his better stories--for he often
wrote poor ones--there was the atmosphere of sincerity, of realism, the
marks of an acute observer, without prejudice and with a justifiable
leaning toward a belief in the fundamental worth of humanity. Where others
were cynical he was just. Where others were sentimental, he had sincere,
healthful sentiment. Where others were hysterical, he calmly and accurately
described, permitting the tragedy to reveal itself instead of burying it
beneath high-heaped adjectives. Simplicity of style was his aim and he was
never more delighted by any compliment than by one from the chief political
reporter.

"That story of yours this morning," said this reporter whose lack as a
writer was more than compensated by his ability to get intimately
acquainted with public men, "reads as if a child might have written it.
I don't see how you get such effects without any style at all. You just
let your story tell itself."

"Well, you see," replied Howard, "I am writing for the masses, and fine
writing would be wasted upon them."