impses of him will be welcomed by the legion who call him
friend. The exceptional opportunities I have enjoyed for many years past
of observing him encourage me in the undertaking.

The readers of Mr. Burroughs crave the personal relation with him. Just
as they want to own his books, instead of merely taking them from the
public libraries, so they want to meet the man, take him by the hand,
look into his eyes, hear his voice, and learn, if possible, what it
is that has given him his unfailing joy in life, his serenity, his
comprehensive and loving insight into the life of the universe. They
feel, too, a sense of deep gratitude to one who has shown them how
divine is the soil under foot--veritable star-dust from the gardens of
the Eternal. He has made us feel at one with the whole cosmos, not only
with bird and tree, and rock and flower, but also with the elemental
forces, the powers which are friendly or unfriendly according as we put
ourselves in right or wrong relations with them. He has shown us the
divine in the common and the near at hand; that heaven lies about us
here in this world; that the glorious and the miraculous are not to be
sought afar off, but are here and now; and that love of the earth-mother
is, in the truest sense, love of the divine: "The babe in the womb
is not nearer its mother than are we to the invisible, sustaining,
mothering powers of the universe, and to its spiritual entities, every
moment of our lives." One who speaks thus of the things of such import
to every human soul is bound to win responses; he deals with things that
come home to us all. We want to know him.

Although retiring in habit, naturally seeking seclusion, Mr. Burroughs
is not allowed overindulgence in this tendency. One may with truth
describe him as a contemporary described Edward FitzGerald--"an
eccentric man of genius who took more pains to avoid fame than others
do to seek it." And yet he is no recluse. When disciples seek out the
hermit in hiding behind the vines at Slabsides, they find a genial
welcome, a simple, homely hospitality; find that the author merits the
Indian name given him by a clever friend--"Man-not-afraid-of-company."

The simplicity and gentleness of this author and his strong interest in
people endear him to the reader; we feel these qualities in his writings
long before meeting him--a certain urbanity, a tolerant insight and
sympathy, and a quiet humor. These draw us to him. Perhaps after
cherishi