You have often regretted that it left off so soon, and would, I
believe, "have been glad to hear more and more, and for ever." The
continuation you have longed for lies in a wide and magnificent
book, which contains more wonderful and glorious things than all our
favourite fairy tales put together. But to read in that book, so as
to discover all its beautiful meanings, you must have pure, clear
eyes, and an humble, loving heart; otherwise you will complain, as
some do, that it is dim and puzzling; or, as others that it is dull
and monotonous.

May you continue to read in it with new curiosity, new delight, and
new profit; and to find it, as long as you live, the untiring "Story
without an End."

Your affectionate mother,
S. A.



CHAPTER I.



There was once a Child who lived in a little hut, and in the hut
there was nothing but a little bed and a looking-glass which hung in
a dark corner. Now the Child cared nothing at all about the
looking-glass; but as soon as the first sunbeam glided softly
through the casement, and kissed his sweet eyelids, and the finch
and the linnet waked him merrily with their morning songs, he arose,
and went out into the green meadow. And he begged flour of the