|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Seller of Dreams
|
|
The Treasure Castle
|
|
Prince Sneeze
|
|
Marianna
|
|
The Lost Half-Hour
|
|
The Enchanted Elm
|
|
The Bird-Boy
|
|
The Master Mariner
|
|
The Marvelous Dog and the Wonderful Cat
|
|
The Shepherd of Clouds
|
|
The City under the Sea
|
|
|
Front Matter
Foreword
|
THE ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
|
|
WASHINGTON, September 7, 1922
|
DEAR HENRY:—
"Grown-ups" arrogate entirely too much to themselves.
I know this is so. I discovered it for a fact when I
was not more than "knee-high to a grasshopper" myself.
I knew, for example, that a certain amount of dirt on
my face and hands in no way interfered with my
enjoyment of my supper. The fact that my finger nails
were not all they should have been had no bearing
whatsoever upon the efficiency of those same fingers.
Washing not only took time from other important
pursuits, but also was mildly unpleasant. Nevertheless,
my mother was not even open to reasonable argument on
the matter. Arbitrarily, with the despotism of an early
Roman Emperor, ihe rendered a dictum to the effect
that I must wash, ard soapy and submissive I had to be
before I could come to the table. Again, any reasonable
child can tell you that pleasure is the main object of
eating; therefore, in all logic, one should eat if one
feels like it at ten o'clock in the morning, or at
three o'clock in the afternoon, a jar of Guava jelly, a
pound of chocolates, a paper of ginger cookies, or
whatever may appeal to one's aesthetic taste. This
method of procedure, naturally, might necessitate
recourse to the brown-wood family medicine
closet. Certain discomfort might ensue. But was not the
pleasure worth it? Again my mother arbitrarily took the
matter into her own hands, disagreeing with me on
fundamentals. She maintained that eating was not for
pleasure simply, but for nourishment. Sundry
unfortunate remarks were made containing references to
gluttony. The pantry was locked, and regular meals at
regular periods were prescribed. Indeed, poems with
dreadful morals for those who ate between meals were
recited to me, endeavor being made thereby to
substitute terror for inclination.
Any reasonable child will find many such parallel
instances of the assumed omnipotence of "grownups."
With this awful indictment before me, you ask me, a
"grown-up," to write an introduction for the "Firelight
Fairy Book," and thereby to assume the responsibility
for passing judgment upon it. There is but
one circumstance that makes me willing to do so. I
believe that where any nice "grown-up" is concerned,
if you crack the bard outside shell with
which circumstances have surrounded him, beneath
it you will find a on this, I venture
to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the "Firelight Fairy
Book." I liked particularly the story of the poor
little prince, whose sneezing had such a disastrous
effect; and the lost half hour is unquestionably an
accurate historical account, because no one could have
described so accurately, simply from
imagination, what a lost temper looked like. What makes me
even more willing to advance my opinion is that I do
not stand alone. My conclusions are supported by a jury
of my peers, for I have given the book as a Christmas
gift, not only to my own children, but to other
people's children, and to one of the prominent Senators
of the United States. They have universally acclaimed
it, and who can question the judgment of such a jury?
Good luck to the "Firelight Fairy Book." May it, like
Scrooge's laugh in the "Christmas Carol," "be the
father of a long, long line of brilliant" books of a
like nature for the enjoyment of all true children,
whether they be still at day school, or sitting in the
high places of the world.
HENRY BESTON, ESQ.
Topsfield, Mass.
|