There were no mists to cloud his vision, there was no halo of idealism hovering around the objects upon which his eyes rested.

It was the truth he saw, and nothing beyond it.

He compared his own work with work of a similar character written by well-known men, and his understanding became more complete.

He found in their work a touch of personality, a shade of self-consciousness about the description of even the most ordinary things.

The individuality of the writer and his subject were always blended.