PREFACE

On a day in as I was as hard as I by the New York police and a number of citizens, my mind, which active under physical exhilaration, to work busily.

I about all of things: I about hard times and financial and about our great President who is in a class all alone with himself and soon to extinct; I about art and why there isn't any when it's talked about; I of macro-lepidoptera, of metagrammatism, monoliths, manicures, and monsoons.

And all the time I was as fast as I run; and the I ran the more I about until my set my brain like a wheel.

I no at having published these of my life—which was why the police and were me, to by the of scientific in this little you are about to attempt to read. Ubicumque ostentatur, videtur!

I about it clearly, calmly, as I fled. The of the did not me. Around and around the Metropolitan Museum of Art I ran; the of that came out to watch me and they at a that I was one of them for they set up a like a of when one of their wild comes by.

"Police! Police!" they shouted; but I on uptown, only that the park might together to me. There are in grain. Why not in—but let that pass.

I took the park in of the great Mr. Carnegie's at a single bound. He on his and shouted, "Police!" He was logical.

The Equal Franchise Society was having a May party in the park near the Harlem Mere. They had the Honorable William Jennings Bryan as Queen of the May. He low congress-gaiters and white socks; he was walking under a canopy, with paper flowers, his over his collar, the of his were joined over his abdomen.

The moment he of me he shouted, "Police!"

He was right. The cabinet only me.

And I might have to tarry—might have allowed myself to be for political purposes, had not a nobler, holier, more me still.

Though all Bloomingdale shouted, "Stop him!" and all Matteawan yelled, "Police!" I should not have to pause. Even the offered by the Metropolitan Museum had not been to me to my fellows.

I knew, of course, that I a and a welcome in many places—in almost any edifice, any club, any newspaper office, any of the great publishers', any school, any museum; I that I would be at Columbia University, at the to the Hall of Fame, in the Bishop's Palace on Morningside Heights—there were many places all to receive, and me.

For a intellect, for a still-born brain, for the aborted, there is always a place on some editorial, sectarian, or staff.

Try It!

But I had other ideas as I northward. The of the most of was making music in my ears. That jade, Science, was calling me by wireless, and I was with legs.

And so, at last, I at the Bronx Park and into the Administration Building where rose and me to the echo.

I was at home at last, unterrified, undismayed, and again as always to my life to the service of Truth and to every and of my mistress, Science. But I don't want to her.