interest to be a little garrulous concerning my literary life, the
causes which led to it, and the methods of my work.  Those who are
indifferent can easily skip these preliminary pages, and those who
are learning to care a little for the personality of him who has
come to them so often with the kindling of the autumn fires may
find some satisfaction in learning why he comes, and the motive,
the spirit with which, in a sense, he ventures to be present at
their hearths. 

One of the advantages of authorship is criticism; and I have never
had reason to complain of its absence.  My only regret is that I
have not been able to make better use of it.  I admit that both the
praise and blame have been rather bewildering, but this confusion
is undoubtedly due to a lack of the critical faculty.  With one acute
gentleman, however, who remarked that it "was difficult to account
for the popularity of Mr.  Roe's books," I am in hearty accord.  I
fully share in his surprise and perplexity.  It may be that we at
last have an instance of an effect without a cause. 

Ten years ago I had never written a line of a story, and had