PROLOGUE


We who are passing "through the wilderness of this world" find it
difficult to realize what an impenetrable wall there is around
the town of Boyville. Storm it as we may with the simulation of
light-heartedness, bombard it with our heavy guns, loaded with
fishing-hooks and golf-sticks, and skates and base-balls, and
butterfly-nets, the walls remain. If once the clanging gates of the
town shut upon a youth, he is banished forever. From afar he may peer
over the walls at the games inside, but he may not be of them. Let him
try to join them, and lo, the games become a mockery, and he finds
that he is cavorting still outside the walls, while the good citizens
inside are making sly sport of him. Who, being recently banished from
Boyville, has not sought to return? In vain does he haunt the swimming
hole; the water elves will have none of him. He hushes their laughter,
muffles their calls, takes the essence from their fun, and leaves it
dust upon their lips.

But we of the race of grown-ups are a purblind people. Otherwise,
when we acknowledge what a stronghold this Boyville is, we the
banished would not seek to steal away the merry townsmen, and bruise
our hearts and theirs at our hopeless task. We have learned many
things in our schools, and of the making of books there has been no
end; so it is odd that we have not learned to let a boy be a boy. Why
not let him feel the thrill from the fresh spring grass under his