ofessionalism eminently characteristic of a practical country. We hear
of works of fiction sketched in the back-offices of publishers, whose
hands are held upon the public pulse. All is arranged, we are told, by
the man of business--period, plot, characters. Nothing is left to the
novelist but to carry out the instructions of his taskmaster, and when
you contemplate the result you can feel no surprise at this composite
authorship. It is no better than a money-making partnership, a return
to the miserable practices of Grub Street and its hacks, a curiosity
of trade, not of art, and so long as its sorry product is distinguished
from genuine literature no great harm is done.

Of the modern tendencies which affect literature, not commerce, the
most conspicuous is the tendency to decentralise. Every province has its
coterie, every county its school The whole continent is pegged out in
well-acknowledged claims. Boston cultivates one style, Chicago another.
Each corner makes the most of its own material, and cheerfully discovers
to the other States its character and temperament. The result is of
great and varied interest. The social history of America is being
written piecemeal, and written often with a skill and sincerity which
merit the highest praise. And not merely has each province found its
chronicler, but the immigrants, also, are intent upon self-expression.
The little masterpieces of Abraham Cahan are an earnest of what the
Ghetto can achieve, and whether the Jews are faithful to Yiddish, or,
like Cahan, acquire the language of their adopted country, there is
no reason why they should not atone in a free land for centuries
of silence. To enumerate the manifold achievements of the States is
impossible. One example will suffice, and no city will better suit my
purpose than Chicago. That admirable literature should come from Chicago
is of itself a paradox. It is still more surprising that the best
writers of Chicago should display the qualities of tranquillity and
reticence, which you would expect least of all to find in that monstrous
city. Yet it is characteristic of Miss Edith Wyatt and Mr H. B. Fuller,
who have painted the manners of Chicago with the greatest skill, that
they never force the note. They look upon their fellow-citizens with
an amiable sympathy; they describe them with a quiet humour. It is true
that they have an excellent opportunity. It is true also that they rise
to their occasion. Within the limits o