Largely Lincoln

Largely Lincoln

Largely Lincoln

Largely Lincoln

Excerpt

What frightful folly it would be for me to recall the time, now long years agone, when I first met David C. Mearns. I know that it was a happy occasion, filled with laughter and warm-hearted conversation, and that I came away a wiser man; but in this sense I am always meeting David Mearns for the first time, for he possesses that rare gift of ageless companionship which, though the years may stiffen muscles, leaves the spirit nimble and the heart unburdened. Such a fellow must have been A. Edward Newton, the only other bibliophile-essayist, in my opinion, who deserves to slam out metaphors in the same literary league with Dave Mearns. The figure is not as strained as you may think; reading, like baseball, is a spectator sport and once each generation along comes a practitioner of the game who simply outshines the field. After you have read the real part of this volume--Mr. Mearns' part--you will know exactly what I mean.

A book like this stands apart, a piece of great luck to humanity, for the reason that no one could plan it. Such a book has to tumble out by the merest chance because now and then, in the pressure of getting and taking, life produces an individual endowed with the gentler and worthier capacities of a scholar. In the judgment of heaven, he must be the world's only genuine realist--this man above the grubby plunder of . . .

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