Helamentedasanirreparablelosshishavingmissedseeingthatnightanabsent—mindedbrotherinliterature，whocameinrubbershoes，andforgetfullyworethemthroughouttheevening。ThathospitablesoulofRalphKeeler，whohadknownhiminCalifornia，buthadtrembledfortheiracquaintancewhenhereadofallthehonorsthatmightwellhavespoiledHarteforthefriendsofhissimplerdays，rejoicedintheunchangedcordialityofhisnaturewhentheymet，andpresentlygavehimoneofthoserestaurantlunchesinBoston，whichhewasalwayssumptuouslyprovidingoutofhisdestitution。Hartewasthelifeofatimewhichwasperhapslessafeastofreasonthanaflowofsoul。Thetruthis，therewasnothingbutcarelessstoriescarelesslytold，andjokesandlaughing，andagreatdealofmerelaughingwithoutthejokes，thewholeasunliketheidealofaliterarysymposiumaswellmightbe;buttherewaspresentonewhometwiththatpleasantBostoncompanyforthefirsttime，andtowhomHarteattributedasuperstitionofBostonseriousnessnotrealizedthenandthere。\"Lookathim，\"hesaid，fromtimetotime。\"Thisisthedreamofhislife，\"andthenshoutedandchokedwithfunatthedifferencebetweentheoccasionandtheexpectationhewouldhaveimaginedinhiscommensal’smind。AtadinnerlongafterinLondon，whereseveralofthecommensalsofthattimemetagain，withotherliteraryfriendsofalikeageandstature，Hartelaidhisarmswellalongtheirshouldersastheyformedinahalf—circlebeforehim，andscreamedoutinmockingmirthatthebulbousfavortowhichtheslimshapesoftheearlierdatehadcome。Thesightwasnotlessarapturetohimthathewashimselfthepreyofthesamepracticaljokefromthepassingyears。Thehairwhichtheyearshadwhollysweptfromsomeofthosethoughtfulbrows，orleftspindlingautumnalspears，\"orfewornone，\"to\"shakeagainstthecold，\"hadwhitenedtoawintrysnowonhis，whilehismustachehadkeptitsyouthfulblack。\"Helooks，\"oneofhisfriendssaidtoanotherastheywalkedhometogether，\"likeaFrenchmarquisoftheancienregime。\"\"Yes，\"theotherassented，thoughtfully，\"orlikeanAmericanactormadeupforthepart。\"
Thesayingcloselyfittedtheoutwardfact，butwasofasubtleinjusticeinitsimplicationofanythinghistrionicinHarte’snature。Neverwasanymanlessa’poseur’;hemadesimplyandhelplesslyknownwhathewasatanyandeverymoment，andhewouldjointhewitnessverycheerfullyinenjoyingwhateverwasamusinginthedisadvantagetohimself。Inthecourseofevents，whichwereinhiscasesoveryhuman，itcameaboutonasubsequentvisitofhistoBostonthatanimpatientcreditordecidedtorighthimselfoutoftheproceedsofthelecturewhichwastobegiven，andhadthelawcorporeallypresentatthehouseofthefriendwhereHartedined，andintheanteroomatthelecture—hall，andontheplatform，wherethelecturewasdeliveredwithbeautifulaplombanduntroubledcharm。Hewasindeedtheonlyoneprivytothelaw’spresencewhowasnottheleastaffectedbyit，sothatwhenhishostofanearliertimeventuredtosuggest，\"Well，Harte，thisistheoldliterarytradition;thisistheFleetbusinessoveragain，\"hejoyouslysmotehisthighandcrowedout，\"Yes，theFleet！\"Nodoubthetastedallthedelicatehumorofthesituation，andhispleasureinitwasquiteunaffected。
IfhistemperamentwasnotadaptedtotheharshconditionsoftheelderAmericanworld，itmightverywellbethathistemperamentwasnotaltogetherinthewrong。Ifitdisabledhimforcertainexperiencesoflife，itwasthesourceofwhatwasmostdelightfulinhispersonality，andperhapsmostbeautifulinhistalent。Itenabledhimtodosuchthingsashedidwithoutbeingatallanguishedforthethingshedidnotdo，andindeedcouldnot。Histalentwasnotafacilegift;heownedthatheoftenwentdayafterdaytohisdesk，andsatdownbeforethatyellowpost—officepaperonwhichhelikedtowritehisliterature，inthatexquisitelyrefinedscriptofhis，withoutbeingabletoinscribealine。ItmaybeownedforhimthatthoughhecametotheEastatthirty—
four，whichoughttohavebeentheveryprimeofhispowers，heseemedtohavearrivedaftertheageofobservationwaspastforhim。Hesawnothingaright，eitherinNewport，wherehewenttolive，orinNewYork，wherehesojourned，oronthoselecturingtourswhichtookhimaboutthewholecountry;orifhesawitaright，hecouldnotreportitaright，orwouldnot。Afterrepeatedandalmostinvariablefailurestodealwiththenovelcharactersandcircumstanceswhichheencounteredheleftofftrying，andfranklywentbacktothesemi—mythicalCaliforniahehadhalfdiscovered，halfcreated，andwroteBretHarteoverandoveraslongashelived。This，whetherhediditfrominstinctorfromreason，wasthebestthinghecoulddo，anditwentasnearlyasmightbetosatisfytheinsatiableEnglishfancyforthewildAmericanolongertobefoundonourmap。
ItisimaginableofHartethatthistemperamentdefendedhimfromanybitternessinthedisappointmenthemayhavesharedwiththatsimpleAmericanpublicwhichintheearlyeighteen—seventiesexpectedanyandeverythingofhiminfictionanddrama。Thelongbreathwasnothis;hecouldnotwriteanovel，thoughheproducedthelikeofoneortwo，andhisplaysweretoobadforthestage，orelsetoogoodforit。Atanyrate，theycouldnotkeepit，evenwhentheygotit，andtheydenotedthefatigueortheindifferenceoftheirauthorinbeingdramatizationsofhislongerorshorterfictions，andnotoriginallydramaticefforts。