Chapter I. The Frontier In History

The frontier! There is no word in the English language more
stirring, more intimate, or more beloved. It has in it all the
elan of the old French phrase, En avant! It carries all of the
old Saxon command, Forward!! It means all that America ever
meant. It means the old hope of a real personal liberty, and yet
a real human advance in character and achievement. To a genuine
American it is the dearest word in all the world.

What is, or was, the frontier? Where was it? Under what stars did
it lie? Because, as the vague Iliads of ancient heroes or the
nebulous records of the savage gentlemen of the Middle Ages make
small specific impingement on our consciousness today, so also
even now begin the tales of our own old frontier to assume a
haziness, an unreality, which makes them seem less history than
folklore. Now the truth is that the American frontier of history
has many a local habitation and many a name. And this is why it
lies somewhat indefinite under the blue haze of the years, all
the more alluring for its lack of definition, like some old
mountain range, the softer and more beautiful for its own
shadows.

The fascination of the frontier is and has ever been an undying
thing. Adventure is the meat of the strong men who have built the
world for those more timid. Adventure and the frontier are one
and inseparable. They suggest strength, courage,
hardihood--qualities beloved in men since the world
began--qualities which are the very soul of the United States,