As an editor Mr. Alden is the most practical of men, but he is in reality a poet, and in another age he might have been a mystic.  He has the secret of preserving his life to himself, while paying the keenest attention to his daily duties.  In his office he is immersed in affairs which require the exercise of vigilant common-sense, and knowledge of life and literature.  At his home he is a serene and optimistic philosopher, contemplating the forces that make for our civilization, and musing over the deep problems of man’s occupation of this earth.  In 1893 appeared anonymously a volume entitled ‘God in His World,’ which attracted instantly wide attention in this country and in England for its subtlety of thought, its boldness of treatment, its winning sweetness of temper, and its exquisite style.  It was by Mr. Alden, and in 1895 it was followed by ‘A Study of Death,’ continuing the great theme of the first,—­the unity of creation, the certainty that there is in no sense a war between the Creator and his creation.  In this view the Universe is not divided into the Natural and the Supernatural:  all is Natural.  But we can speak here only of their literary quality.  The author is seen to be a poet in his conceptions, but in form his writing is entirely within the limits of prose; yet it is a prose most harmonious, most melodious, and it exhibits the capacity of our English tongue in the hand of a master.  The thought is sometimes so subtle as to elude the careless reader, but the charm of the melody never fails to entrance.  The study of life and civilization is profound, but the grace of treatment seems to relieve the problems of half their difficulty.

His wife did not live to read the exquisite dedication given below.

From ‘A Study of Death,’ copyright 1895, by Harper and Brothers

A DEDICATION

TO MY BELOVED WIFE

My earliest written expression of intimate thought or cherished fancy was for your eyes only; it was my first approach to your maidenly heart, a mystical wooing, which neglected no resource, near or remote, for the enhancement of its charm, and so involved all other mystery in its own.

In you, childhood has been inviolate, never losing its power of leading me by an unspoken invocation to a green field, ever kept fresh by a living fountain, where the Shepherd tends his flock.  Now, through a body racked with pain, and sadly broken, still shines this unbroken childhood, teaching me Love’s deepest mystery.

It is fitting, then, that I should dedicate to you this book touching that mystery.  It has been written in the shadow, but illumined by the brightness of an angel’s face seen in the darkness, so that it has seemed easy and natural for me to find at the thorn’s heart a secret and everlasting sweetness far surpassing that of the rose itself, which ceases in its own perfection.