Present Edition

It was only a child after all, and it had not anticipated having to find its way alone among strangers. It had thought of nothing further than a very short walk among familiar faces. If it had understood beforehand how far it would have to walk, I doubt if it would have had the courage to start; for it was not naturally brave. But once on its way it could not turn back; and thanks to those kindly outstretched hands, it grew a little less afraid, and it went on.

Then another small wayfarer followed. It
also was very easily discouraged; an unfriendly
push would have knocked it over at once. But
nobody seemed to want to push so unpretentious a
thing, so it gained courage and went on.

And now a more grown-up looking traveller (though indeed its looks belie it) has started on its way; more diffident, if the truth must be told, than even its predecessors. For it thought within itself — Perhaps there will be no welcoming hands held out this time; hands may grow tired of such kind offices. But it has not been so. And now the sense of gratefulness cannot longer be repressed.

All of which means that I want to thank
sincerely those kings of the Book World — Reviewers — and
those dwellers in that world who are my
Readers, for their insight and the sympathy to
which I owe so much.

Once I read of a soldier who wrote a letter home from the midst of a battle, on a crumpled piece of paper laid upon a cannon ball. His home people he knew would overlook the appearance of the paper and the lack of various things expected in a letter written in a quiet room upon a study table. And he knew he could trust them not to bring too fine a criticism to bear upon the unstudied words hot from the battle’s heart.

I have thought sometimes that these books were not unlike that soldier’s letter; and those who read them seem to me very like his home people, for they have been so generous in the kindness of their welcome.