But another kind of letter came to me--the letter of some man who had
just such a struggle as Charley Steele, or whose father or brother or
friend had had such a struggle. Letters came from clergymen who had
preached concerning the book; from men who told me in brief their own
life problems and tragedies. These letters I prize; most of them had
the real thing in them, the human truth.

That the book drew wide attention to the Dominion of Canada, particularly
to French Canada, and crystallised something of the life of that dear
Province, was a deep pleasure to me; and I was glad that I had been able
to culminate my efforts to portray the life of the French-Canadian as I
saw it, by a book which arrested the attention of so comprehensive a
public.

I have seen many statements as to the original of Charley Steele, but I
have never seen a story which was true. Many people have told me that
they had seen the original of Charley Steele in an American lawyer.
They knew he was the original, because he himself had said so. The
gentleman was mistaken; I have never seen him. As with the purple cow,
I never hope to see him. Whoever he is or whatever he is, the original
Charley was an abler and a more striking man. I knew him as a boy, and
he died while I was yet a boy, taking with him, save in the memory of a
few, a rare and wonderful, if not wholly lovable personality. For over
twenty years I had carried him in my mind, wondering whether, and when,
I should-make use of him. Again and again I was tempted, but was never
convinced that his time had come; yet through all the years he was
gaining strength, securing possession of my mind, and gathering to him,
magnet-like, the thousand observations which my experience sent in his
direction. In my mind his life-story ended with his death at the Cote