The children’s papers show better than written words of mine exactly what the meetings meant to them, and will prove also, I think, their average ability. They are printed exactly as written, save for corrections in spelling and punctuation, which were by no means perfect.
The conversations were recorded as precisely as possible from memory and from notes taken immediately after the meetings. As any one with experience will know, it is impossible to record the broken fragments of actual speech without sometimes combining mere phrases into complete sentences. The written is never like the spoken thought. It appears like it, which it would not do if it were a precise phonographic transcription.
I have made the children speak “in character,” using always their own words and their own ideas, whatever those might be; even being careful to record characteristic phrases and expressions. And that I had succeeded was proved by the children themselves, when they heard the manuscript read and recognized themselves and each other, to their great amusement. Not until all the meetings were over had they any idea that I was keeping this record.
We seven, then, have made this book; and one other one, who, though never present at the meetings, had his large share of influence in them. This was my friend and Florence’s big brother Arthur—so often quoted by her—and quoted by me without acknowledgment, especially in the meetings on the æsthetic ideal, which would have been impossible without his help.
For all lovers of youth and individual thought, for all lovers of the quest, we have made this book, as a personal recognition of the bond of kinship that binds all free seekers, and as an answer to those vital questions which all of us must ask together, and answer, at least in sympathy.
THE MEMBERS
Alfred, my cousin, not quite fifteen years old when the club was begun. In his first high school year. In appearance, a young Arab chieftain, dark, athletic and dignified. His character fulfils the promise: he is taciturn, slow to act, independent, serious for his age, and with a great thirst for knowledge. A lover of nature and the country; a hater of all things petty or mean. He entered the club with a good knowledge of evolution, and no religious training of any sort.
Virginia, my cousin, almost sixteen years old. She had one year of high school, but as she would not study, and drew pictures instead, she was sent to art school a year and a half ago, where she has been working hard. She has read and re-read many good books. Although she is of a blonde, Saxon type, yet her hair and eyes are very dark. Light-hearted and yet earnest, self-satisfied, always sweet and lovable. Bright, interested, original, humorous. She has had no definite religious training, but much sound religious philosophy at home.
Florence, a young friend, fifteen years old, but much older in appearance. In her third high school year. Large and dark, with gray eyes. She is vacillating, and may turn out to be a fine, independent, intelligent and forceful woman, or a materialistic, flippant society lady. It depends on the influences brought to bear, and on her own will. Somewhat spoiled. A good student, a good thinker, but not impelled to think by any great desire. She loves dancing more than anything else in the world. She comes from a home of mixed and uncertain piety.
Henry, Florence’s cousin, not quite sixteen years old, unknown to me before we formed the club. In his second high school year. A young student, dark, slim, shy, with much to say, but not yet able to say it well. He is rather dogmatic, but open to influence, a born seeker. Often appearing at first to be slow, or commonplace, he suddenly reveals unexpected understanding and originality. He comes from a conventional home.