BOOKITNESS

TWO FATES-AND A WIDOW.

THREE striking stories recently have been published, each one by an artist of a different manner, with the same general motive-the development of the literary temperament in a man. They are Henry James's "Lesson of the Master," George Moore's "Vain Fortune," and now F. Marion Crawford's "The Three Fates" (Macmillan). These authors are as far apart as possible in their ways of looking at life, yet all arrive at practically the same conclusion about this form of the artistic temperament; for the man who has it, there is only one chance of happiness, and that is in Expression. Anything which interferes with expression-love, marriage, wealth, poverty, sickness-is the greatest misfortune that can befall; but if the power of concentration and expression remains free and strong, the writer may laugh at any fate and forget all sorrow in the delight of creation. This is the verdict of three high authorities, writing from their own consciousness, and it is a verdict which may be gathered from the biographies of literary men and artists everywhere. It is doubtful whether it means anything more, however, than the delight which every man takes in doing what he can do well. The artist and the writer are more highly organized in a nervous way, and the delight is therefore keener; but a first-class burglar with a genius for picking locks, a jockey who knows every mood of a race horse, a bunco steerer with a talent for character acting, or a bootblack who sees the face of heaven in a good "shine," gets the same sort of exaltation-that feeling of perfect adjustment to his environment which we call happiness.

AS for the particular charm of "The Three Fates" as a story, it lies in the limpid language,

facile, expressive, often poetic, which characterizes all of Crawford's novels. He is a born teller of tales whose characters are generally just beyond the range of acute human sympathy. In this last story they are nearer human than in any other, except "The Tale of a Lonely Parish." There are chapters which suggest the best work of the analytic school, and his search of motives in the heart of Constance recalls the methods of Mr. Howells. It makes one think that, in his surprising versatility, Mr. Crawford said to himself: "I have given them East Indian, Italian, German, English, Arabian, Hebrew stories which they have called good but romantic. Now I'll show them how easily I can do the other thing." And he does it very well for several chapters, but in the end his fine romantic temperament gets uppermost, and the hero comes into twelve million dollars in the twinkling of an eye. However, that sort of thing really happens in New York, but not often enough to be considered a habit.

THE gist of the story is that the Three Fates are the three loves of the young novelist. The first appeals to his intellect; she is the inspiration of his work and starts him on his career. The second appeals to his finer senses, his appreciation of beauty, luxury, comfort, fidelity. The third is a widow who has a most uncomfortable way of "speaking her mind." She has had happiness and suffering, and is a sort of tragedy queen with a sarcastic disposition. And yet the story ends with the hero hopelessly in love with her, and afraid to break the delusion by asking her,

D

He: THERE ISN'T ENOUGH ON THIS BREAKFAST TABLE TO FEED A CANARY BIRD.

She: I KNOW IT, MY DEAR; BUT THERE ARE SEVERAL THINGS I WANT YOU TO ORDER FROM THE MARKET, AND I KNOW YOU'LL

because he believes "she is not a woman who forgets"-though she is very young and her first husband has been dead four years.

But he has his twelve millions, and can write a successful novel in four weeks, and has no incumbrances except an aged father who takes care of himself. Though the last page of the story leaves the picture of the lonely man, with "closed eyes and an expression of intense pain on his face "-yet the reader, wise in the ways of the world, will feel perfectly sure that before the book reaches a second edition the widow will have captured the hero, and they will live miserably forever after.

"GREAT SCOT, TOM! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?" "IT MEANS THE FAMILY NEXT DOOR KEEPS A POODLE, AND MY FOLKS ARE BOUND TO BE UP WITH THE FASHION,"