range developed to a point of high literary merit in
such a paper as the _Nation_ or the _New Statesman_. But if you look for
short stories in the literary periodicals, you will not find them, and
if you turn to the popular English magazines, you will be amazed at the
cheap and meretricious quality of the English short story.

It would be idle to dispute about the origin of the short story, for
several literatures may claim its birth, but the American short story
has been developed as an art form to the point where it may fairly
claim a sustained superiority, as different in kind as in quality from
the tale or _conte_ of other literatures.

It would be difficult to trace the reasons for its specially healthy
growth in a soil so idly fertilized as our American reading public,
but it is less difficult and far more valuable to trace its development
and changing standards from year to year as the field of its interest
widens and its technique becomes more and more assured and competent.

Accordingly it seems advisable to undertake a study of the American
short story from year to year as it is represented in the American
periodicals which care most to develop its art and its audiences, and
to appraise so far as may be the relative achievement of author and
magazine in the successful fulfilment of this aim.

We have listened to much wailing during the past year about the absence
of all literary qualities in our fiction. We have been judged by
Englishmen and Irishmen who do not know our work and by Americans who
do know it. We have been appraised at our real worth by Mr. Edward
Garnett, who is probably the only English critic competent through
sufficient acquaintance to discuss us. Mr. Owen Wister and Mr. Henry
Sydnor Harrison have discussed us with each other, and bandied names
to and fro rather uncritically. And Mr. Robert Herrick has endeavored
to reassure us kindly and a little wistfully. Mr. Stephens has scolded
us, and Mr. Howells and Mr. Alden have counselled us wisely. And many
others have ventured opinions and offered judgment. The general verdict
against American literature is Guilty! Is this wise? Is this just?

Twelve years ago, if the public had been sufficiently interested,
such a dispute might have arisen about American poetry. If it had
arisen, the jury would probably have shouted "Guilty!" with one voice.
We had no faith in our poetry, and we were afraid of enthusiasm. It was
not good form. One or two poe