The Lure of the Labrador Wild | Page 5

visit the great
northern wilds, but who love to hear about them. I shall avail myself of

this opportunity to thank these readers for the kindly manner in which
they have received the book. This reception of it has been especially
gratifying to me because of the lack of confidence I had in my ability to
tell the story of Hubbard's life and glorious death as I felt it should be
told.
The writing of the story was a work of love. I wished not only to fulfil
my last promise to my friend to write the narrative of his expedition,
but I wished also to create a sort of memorial to him. I wanted the
world to know Hubbard as he was, his noble character, his devotion to
duty, and his faith, so strong that not even the severe hardships he
endured in the desolate north, ending only with death, could make him
for a moment forget the simple truths that he learned from his mother
on the farm in old Michigan. I wanted the young men to know these
things, for they could not fail to be the better for having learned them;
and I wanted the mothers to know what men mothers can make of their
sons.
An unknown friend writes me, "To dare and die so divinely and leave
such a record is to be transfigured on a mountain top, a master symbol
to all men of cloud-robed human victory, angel-attended by reverence
and peace...a gospel of nobleness and faith." And another, "How truly
'God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.' Mr. Hubbard
went to find Lake Michikamau; he failed, but God spelled 'Success' of
'Failure,' and you brought back a message which should be an
inspiration to every soul to whom it comes. The life given up in the
wilds of Labrador was not in vain." Space will not permit me to quote
further from the many letters of this kind that have come to me from all
over the United States and Canada, but they tell me that others have
learned to know Hubbard as be was and as his friends knew him, and
that our book has not failed of its purpose.
The storms of two winters have held in their icy grasp the bleak land in
which he yielded up his life for a principle, and the flowers of two
summers have blossomed upon his grave, overlooking the Hudson. But
it was only his body that we buried there. His spirit still lives, for his
was a spirit too big and noble to be bound by the narrow confines of a
grave. His life is an example of religious faith, strong principle, and
daring bravery that will not be forgotten by the young men of our land.
New York, June 1, 1906. D. W.

PREFACE TO ELEVENTH EDITION

As the eleventh edition of this book goes to press, the opportunity is
given for a brief prefatory description of a pilgrimage to Hubbard's
death-place in the Labrador Wilderness from which I have just
returned.
For many years it had been my wish to re-visit the scene of those tragic
experiences, and to permanently and appropriately mark the spot where
Hubbard so heroically gave up his life a decade ago. Judge William J.
Malone, of Bristol, Connecticut, one of the many men who have
received inspiration from Hubbard's noble example, was my
companion, and at Northwest River we were joined by Gilbert Blake,
who was a member of the party of four trappers who rescued me in
1903. We carried with us a beautiful bronze tablet, which was designed
to be placed upon the boulder before which Hubbard's tent was pitched
when he died. Wrapped with the tablet was a little silk flag and
Hubbard's college pennant, lovingly contributed by his sister, Mrs.
Arthur C. Williams, of Detroit, Michigan. These were to be draped
upon the tablet when erected and left with it in the wilderness. Our plan
was to ascend and explore the lower Beaver River to the point where
Hubbard discovered it, and where, in 1903, we abandoned our canoe to
re-cross to the Susan River Valley a few days before his death. Here it
was our expectation to follow the old Hubbard portage trail to Goose
Creek and thence down Goose Creek to the Susan River.
Of our journey up the Beaver River suffice it to say that we met with
many adventures, but proceeded without serious accident until one day
our canoe was submerged in heavy rapids, the lashings gave way, and
to our consternation the precious tablet, together with the flag and
pennant, was lost in the flood. After two days' vain effort to recover the
tablet and flags we continued on the river until at length