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543 not return. The family, becoming alarmed, began a search, which resulted in finding him in his room, buried in the contents of a book which he had purchased on his way to the grocer's. Forgetful of his errand, he had returned home and spent the day in its perusal. The Hamilton Intelligence remained family property until after the inauguration of President Tyler in 1841, when, having had conscientious scruples about supporting a slave-holding President, the elder Howells sold the journal and removed to Dayton, Ohio, where he purchased the Dayton Transcript. This investment was a failure. Discouraged with journalism, and trusting to retrieve his fortunes as the superintendent of a prospective paper-mill, he removed his family to Greene County. After waiting there a year, however, this project also failed. But the silver lining dawned in 1851, when the father was appointed to a clerkship in the House of Representatives, and the son secured a situation, as has been said, on the Ohio State Journal.

Despite poverty and few or no school advantages, William Dean Howells was always an eager student. Almost from the time he could read, it was his favorite pastime to write verses and print them upon slips of paper for the amusement of himself and some of his companions. It was on the Ohio State Journal that he met a kindred soul in a fellow-compositor,—James J. Piatt. His services as Journal compositor, however, were interrupted in 1852, when the family moved to Jefferson, Ashtabula County, Ohio, where his father purchased the Ashtabula Sentinel, upon the mechanical department of which his five sons worked. The Sentinel is now the property of the novelist's eldest brother, Joe Howells. He likewise inherits the Dean thrift. What soldier does not recall the song-envelope that flooded the Union army and rebuilt the fortunes of its inventor, this self-same Joe Howells? When the young compositor returned to the capital, it was as Columbus correspondent to the Cincinnati Gazette. He was then nineteen years old, and before he had completed his twenty-second year he was news-editor of the Ohio State Journal, from which time dates the beginning of his literary career. These were hard-working days; but in the dim quarters of the Journal, as the novelist once said, "his star of hope rose." He became inspired with a love for Heine. Translations and imitations of the German song-bird flowed copiously from the ambitious poet's pen. His infatuation for Heine became so absorbing that it evoked many a jest from his companions.

With the pardonable vanity of the self-taught, he was fond of displaying his knowledge of the languages by translating for the press. His contributions were generally prefaced, "We translate." Of the many rhythmical satires this pedantry evoked, the following paraphrase is probably as good as any:

The robin sings in the elm,
 * The cattle stand beneath,

Sedate and grave, with great brown eyes,
 * And fragrant meadow breath.