The characters may be directly explained and inter¬preted by the writer

Not a day passed by that the world was not the better because this man, humble as he was, had lived. He never stepped aside from his own path, yet would always reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost involuntarily, too, he had become a preacher. The pure and high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations, took shape in the good deeds that dropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in speech. He uttered truths that wrought upon and molded the lives of those who heard him.1

And after all this fine description the man remains an amiable shadow! This direct method of characterization is perhaps time-saving, and is sanctioned by the example of writers of repute, but it is one which was more fre¬quently employed in the past than it is at present. The writer who uses it runs the risk of being unconvincing, and his characters often will lack reality. Perhaps as citizens of a democracy we are not so apt to believe statements supported only by the word of authority. Perhaps we have been trained by modern educational methods to accept only what we discover for ourselves: the chemistry teacher no longer tells his classes that ammonia gas is soluble in water — he lets them mix the gas with water and see for themselves. So the modem writer no longer makes pages of statement about his characters, but he much more cleverly leads the reader to form his own opinions of them.

Characters in fiction may be made to reveal themselves in this more forcible and convincing, but less direct fashion, by telling what they say and what they do, by disclosing their thoughts, and describing their acts and gestures. In "A Coward," by Maupassant, the author in his own person makes no mention of the intense pride, the craven body, and the will impotent to control the betrayal of emotion, that made up the personality of the Viscount Gontran Joseph de Signoles. But he makes the man think, speak, and act before us — he lives on the printed page. In Kipling's "A Bank Fraud," we are not told that Reggie Burke was tolerant, patient, and sympathetic. We are told what he did and said, and we know the rest.