For years “Cuba Libre” had been one of the _Sun’s_ fights. From the first days of his control of the paper Mr. Dana had urged the overthrow of Spanish dominion in the island. His support of the revolutionists went back, as E. P. Mitchell has written, “to the dark remoteness of the struggles a quarter of a century before the war--the time of the Cespedes uprising, the Virginius affair, and the variegated activities of the New York Junta.” Mr. Mitchell adds: The affection of the _Sun_ and its editor for everything Cuban except Spanish domination lasted quite down to and after the second advent of Maximo Gomez; it was never livelier than in the middle seventies. Mr. Dana was the warm friend of José Marti. He corresponded personally (with the assistance of his Fenian stenographer, Williams) with the leading revolutionists actually fighting in the island. He was the constant and unwearied intellectual resource of a swarm of patriots, adventurers, near-filibusters, bondholding financiers, lawyer-diplomats, and grafters operating exclusively in Manhattan. A Latin-American accent was a sure card of admission to the woven-bottomed chair alongside the little round table in the inner corner room of the series of four inhabited by the _Sun’s_ entire force of editors and reporters. We were then the foremost if not the only American organ of Cuban independence. The executive journalistic headquarters of the cause was just outside Mr. Dana’s front door. The Cuba Libre editor, as I suppose he would be styled nowadays, was a gentleman of Latin-American origin, who bore the aggressive and appropriate name of Rebello. The Cuba Libre “desk” was about as depressing a seat of literary endeavor as the telegraph-blank shelf in a country railroad station, which it resembled in its narrowness, its dismal ink-wells, rusty pens, and other details of disreputable equipment. From this shelf there issued, by Mr. Dana’s direction, many encouraging editorial remarks to Rebello’s compatriots in the jungle. Nor was free Cuba ungrateful to the _Sun_. A few years after the war, when Mr. Mitchell was walking about the interior Cuban town of Camaguey, formerly Puerto Principe, he came upon a modest little public square, the lamp-posts of which were labelled “Plaza Charles A. Dana.” At the corner of the church of Las Mercedes was a tablet with the following inscription: TRIBUTO DEL PUEBLO A LA MEMORIA DE CHARLES A. DANA ILLUSTRE PUBLICISTA AMERICANO DEFENSOR INFATIGABLE DE LAS LIBERTADES CUBANAS ABRIL 10 DE 1899 Dana was dead, without having seen the blooming of the flower he had watered, but Cuba had not wholly forgotten. * * * * *