Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience.
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