The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart
Photograph by Bachrach
OPAL WHITELEY RECONSTRUCTING HER DIARY
The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart
With Illustrations
The Atlantic Monthly Press
Boston
Copyright, 1920, by The Atlantic Monthly Company
Copyright, 1920, by the Atlantic Monthly Press
All rights reserved
PREFACE
I
Forthose whom Nature loves, the Story of Opal is an open book. Theyneed no introduction to the journal of this Understanding Heart. Butthe world, which veils the spirit and callouses the instincts, makescuriosity for most people the criterion of interest. They demand factsand backgrounds, theories and explanations, and for them it seemsworth while to set forth something of the child’s story undisclosedby the diary, and to attempt to weave together some impressions ofthe author.
Last September, late one afternoon, Opal Whiteley came into theAtlantic’s office, with a book which she had had printed inLos Angeles. It was not a promising errand, though it had broughther all the way from the Western coast, hoping to have published inregular fashion this volume, half fact, half fancy, of The FairylandAround Us, the fairyland of beasts and blossoms, butterflies andbirds. The book was quaintly embellished with colored pictures,pasted in by hand, and bore a hundred marks of special loving care.Yet about it there seemed little at first sight to tempt a publisher.Indeed, she had offered her wares in vain to more than one publishinghouse; and as her dollars were growing very few, the disappointmentwas severe. But about Opal Whiteley herself there was something toattract the attention even of a man of business—something veryyoung and eager and fluttering, like a bird in a thicket.
The talk went as follows:—
“I am afraid we can’t do anything with the book. But you must havehad an interesting life. You have lived much in the woods?”
“Yes, in lots of lumber-camps.”
“How many?”
“Nineteen. At least, we moved nineteen times.”
It was hard not to be interested now. One close question followedanother regarding the surroundings of her girlhood. The answerswere so detailed, so sharply remembered, that the next question wasnatural.
“If you remember like that, you must have kept a diary.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Yes, always. I do still.”
“Then it is not the boo