well-loved shores of America. The lights danced like fireflies in the
great towers of New York, while behind them glowed in sombre splendour
the fiery Bastions of a November sunset.

But, of course, none of all this affords the reason why I dedicate my
book to you. That reason will perhaps be fully understood only by me and
by our children. It can also be found in certain wise and cunning little
hearts, inscrutable as those of kings, in a London nursery. Susan,
Charlotte, and Christopher could tell if they would.

If that sounds inconsequent, or, at any rate, incomprehensible, may I
not plead that so do the ineffable Mysteries of Life and Death.

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY.




PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION


It is with great pleasure that I accept Major Putnam's suggestion that I
should write a special preface to the American edition of my
autobiography. Major Putnam, I, and the _Spectator_, are a
triumvirate of old friends, and I should not be likely to refuse a
request made by him, even if its fulfilment was a much less agreeable
task than that of addressing an American audience.

I was born with a mind which might well be described as _Anima
naturaliter Americana_. I have always loved America and the