For many a man this has been a ruinous, one-sided development. Howard was 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.” “You’re right,” said Jackman, “we don’t need literature on this paper--long words, high-sounding phrases and all that sort of thing. What we want is just plain, simple English that goes straight to the point.” “Like Shakespeare’s and Bunyan’s,” suggested Kittredge with a grin. “Shakespeare? Fudge!” scoffed Jackman. “Why he couldn’t have made a living as a space-writer on a New York newspaper.” “No, I don’t think he would have staid long in Park Row,” replied Kittredge with a subtlety of meaning that escaped Jackman. A few days before New Year’s the Managing Editor looked up and smiled as Howard was passing his desk. “How goes it?” he asked. “Oh, not so badly,” Howard answered, “but I am a good deal depressed at times.” “Depressed? Nonsense! You’ve got everything--youth, health and freedom. And by the way, you are going on space the first of the year. Our rule is a year on salary before space. But we felt that it was about time to strengthen the rule by making an exception.”