It was about two years ago that a tall, gaunt, pale young man entered my church study and said, in quite confident terms—“I want a long talk with you, sir, for I’ve got something that I believe will interest you.”  
Being not wholly unused to the ways of agents, promoters, inventors and various kinds of visionaries, I felt somewhat impatient at this unhesitating demand for a liberal share of my time; but I told my visitor, as pleasantly as possible, to be seated and to describe the thing which he thought would “interest” me. This was the beginning of my acquaintance with Mr. Edgar Chambless, the author of this book, and the opening words of my introduction to Roadtown.
 
At that time, Roadtown was nothing but a dream,—a crude and imperfect idea, as compared8 with the careful and well-tested conception which is here given to the public. To its inventor it appeared even then, in its original form, to contain the solution of most every perplexing problem of modern social life,—to me, to whom it came not as a slowly dawning idea but as an immediate revelation, it appeared to be only one more extravagant and utterly impracticable vision, akin to that invention, once laid before me by a dear old man, whereby light and heat might be endlessly generated without the combustion of any fuel, or to that other wonderful idea, commended to me by a devoted enthusiast, whereby the drama was to be made the oasis of all ethical instruction and the theater the school of morals.
 
Something in Mr. Chambless’ personality, however, held my attention and won my sympathy. In our first talk together, I was made to believe in him even while I could not find it within reason to believe in the revolutionary possibilities of his conception, and so I asked him to call again. And from that time to this, I have met him and talked with9 him frequently. I have seen his dream become transformed from an ill-conceived vision into a well-conceived and thoroughly practical idea. I have seen the man himself rise from the position of a visionary dreamer, seeking the ears of any who would listen, to that of a recognized genius, welcomed in the offices of editors and publishers, and received on equal terms by the best known architects and inventors of the nation. I have seen Roadtown subjected by competent men to the most rigid mechanical and economic criticisms, and beheld it emerge triumphant. I have seen Mr. Chambless convert architects, mechanics, charity workers, philanthropists, and cost-of-living experts from scoffing impatience to enthusiastic faith. I have had the privilege, in a word, of watching the triumphant progress of a great and original idea, and the heroic personal victory of a true inventive genius.
 
During all of this time I have done nothing but “lend my ears” to Mr. Chambless. Unable to help him to work out his ideas in any practical way, I have tried to serve him as a friend and confidant. To me he has unfolded10 his joys and his sorrows—revealed his feelings of alternating despair and hope—told the tales now of success and now of failure. For two years past, I have watched and listened, and all the while my faith in Mr. Chambless has grown ever stronger and my sympathy with his endeavor ever deeper. Indeed, for some months it has been my feeling that I had no higher duty than that of helping as best I could, by the word of good-will, the handclasp of friendship, and the listening ear of personal faith, one of the few men I have ever met in my experience who was truly laying down his life for the sake of a great and unselfish idea.
 
Mr. Hawthorne, in his Foreword, has testified to his belief in the idea of Roadtown; I would here testify, in my Foreword, to my belief in Mr. Chambless. He is made of the stuff of heroes—those who have sacrificed home, friends, social positions, money, personal comfort, yea life itself, in the service of humanity. His is the spirit of perfect devotion to an ideal. He represents in his person the type of valiant martyrdom, which I have11 read about a thousand times in books, but have met not more than a half-dozen times in real life. As to whether his scheme is practicable or not, I cannot say. Experts, not accustomed to being swept off their feet by bursts of enthusiasm over chimerical ideas, have testified that it is. As to whether his conception will solve all the problems of social life which he says it will solve, I again cannot say. Experience teaches that every original idea has revolutionary possibilities.
 
But as to Mr. Chambless himself, I can say, and say with enthusiasm, that he is a man deserving of the confidence of men. Mr. Hawthorne commends Roadtown to the earnest consideration of all thoughtful persons for itself. I commend Roadtown in a similar way for its inventor. Prove him wrong if you can, but first master his ideas.
 
Church of the Messiah, June 15th, 1910.
Park Ave. and 34th St.,
New York City. 12