An index finger

AN INDEX FINGER
BY TULIS ABROJAL
“All the Sutras are but fingers that point out the shining moon.” “Man, thou livest forever.” Has any one supposed it is lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him, or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look’d at the crowded heaven. And I said to my spirit: When we become the unfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of everything in them, shall we be filled and satisfied then? And my spirit said: No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond. —Walt Whitman.
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY, 9 and 11 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET: NEW YORK CITY 1898
Copyright, 1897 BY TULIS ABROJAL.
An Index Finger.
To those who faithfully follow their ideals, ever doing the work they love to do, always giving to the world the best that is in them—the truth as they see it—though in the face of difficulties, disasters and defeat; enduring persecution, poverty and want, meeting the dread spectre of starvation, suffering death itself if need be, yet counting all not too great a price to pay for the freedom of their souls, this book is sympathetically dedicated.
The good old custom of the author telling his readers in a preface why he wrote his book, happily has not yet gone out of date. Though no particular friend to guide-board literature in general, I confess to a weakness for the preface. It has its helpful uses. There the author can talk directly to his readers, without filtering his thoughts through the brains of his characters; and in consequence the readers come into closer sympathy with him and understand him better. In not a few cases I have wished books were all preface. I hope others may not wish so in this case.
In the preface we meet the author face to face, as it were, and he becomes ours or we become his at once. It is a little confidential glimpse into his soul, which he kindly gives us before we enter it by means of the book.
Yes, I am decidedly in favor of the preface, both as reader and author.