The last of the Three Musketeers is gone, now, although he outlived his friends by some years. Robert Barr died in 1912. Perhaps they are still debating a joint return.
There could be, perhaps, no better close for a paper on Stephen Crane than the subjoined paragraph from a letter written by him to a Rochester editor:—
"The one thing that deeply pleases me is the
fact that men of sense invariably believe me to be
sincere. I know that my work does not amount to
a string of dried beans—I always calmly admit it—but
I also know that I do the best that is in me
without regard to praise or blame. When I was
the mark for every humorist in the country, I went
ahead; and now when I am the mark for only fifty
per cent of the humorists of the country, I go
ahead; for I understand that a man is born into the
world with his own pair of eyes, and he is not at all
responsible for his vision—he is merely responsible
for his quality of personal honesty. To keep
close to this personal honesty is my supreme ambition."
VINCENT STARRETT.
THE OPEN BOAT
A Tale intended to be after the fact. Being the experience of four men from the sunk steamer "Commodore"
I
None of them knew the color of the sky. Their eyes glanced level, and were fastened upon the waves that swept toward them. These waves were of the hue of slate, save for the tops, which were of foaming white, and all of the men knew the colors of the sea. The horizon narrowed and widened, and dipped and rose, and at all times its edge was jagged with waves that seemed thrust up in points like rocks. Many a man ought to have a bath-tub larger than the boat which here rode upon the sea. These waves were most wrongfully and barbarously abrupt and tall, and each froth-top was a problem in small-boat navigation.