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There can really be no excuse for this last book of trite and beautiful sayings. I do notattempt, in any way, to palliate this great wrong. I would not do so even if I had an ideawhat palliate meant.It will, however, add one more to the series of books for which I am to blame, and thepleasure of travel will be very much enhanced, for me, at least.There is one friend I always meet on the trains when I travel. He is the news agent. Hecomes to me with my own books in his arms, and tells me over and over again of theirmerits. He means it, too. What object could he have in coming to me, not knowing who I am, and telling me of their great worth? Why would he talk that way to me if he did not reallyfeel it?That is one reason I travel so much. When 1 get gloomy and heartsick, I like to get on atrain and be assured once more, by a total stranger, that my books have never beensuccessfully imitated.Some authors like to have a tall man, with a glazed grip-sack, and whose breath isstronger than his intellect, selling their works; but I do not prefer that way.I like the candor and ingenuousness of the train-boy. He does not come to the front doorwhile you are at prayers, and ring the bell till the hat-rack falls down, and then try to sellyou a book containing 2,000 receipts for the blind staggers. He leans gently over you as youlook out the car window, and he puts some pecan meats in your hand, and thus wins yourtrusting heart. Then he sells you a book, and takes an interest in you.This book will go to swell the newsboy's armful, and if there be any excuse, under thesun, for its publication, aside from the royalty; that is it.I have taken great care to thoroughly eradicate anything that would have the appearanceof poetry in this work, and there is not a thought or suggestion contained in it that wouldsoil the most delicate fabric.Do not read it all at once, however, in order to see whether he married the girl or not.Take a little at a time, and it will cure gloom on the similia simili-bus curanter principle. Ifyou read it all at once, and it gives you the heaves, I am glad of it, and you deserve it. I willnot bind myself to write the obituary of such people.Hudson, Wis., Sept, 5,1883

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