Mr. George Putnam has asked me to write a solemn foreword to David’s book. An ideal foreword cannot be too brief, should never be in the nature of an apology or a panegyric,—and in fact any direct reference to the subject of the volume in which it is printed is in the nature of redundancy. Its only use, as far as I can see, is a chance to exploit some idea of the foreword’s author which he can find no opportunity to print elsewhere.

Pragmatism alone was the stimulus of my suggestion that eleven-year-old David Putnam go on one leg of the Arcturus expedition—a Squeersian acid test of sorts. Also a selfish desire to see how my blasé enthusiasms [vi]had changed since I thrilled at my first palm tree and my first dolphin.

I wanted to see the immediate result of a temporary shift from school to skyline, from books to boobies, of the putting of volcanoes into vacations, and of the working out of a sublimated hooky. Of the immediate personal reactions between David, myself and our gorgeous environment I can speak only with sheer enjoyment. Neither of us ever tired of exeleutherostomizing at every new thrill.

As to the sifting of all these impressions, their reclothing in words and phrases, I am looking forward with keen interest to reading David’s book when it is published, to see what has been gained or lost, in this, one of the most severe tests of the working of a human mind.

William Beebe,
Steam Yacht Arcturus. [vii]