structure as must be left to plead their own excuse, without
any help from me. Indeed, except that there was a necessity for
it--and that the inner life of the legends cannot be come at
save by making them entirely one's own property--there is no
defense to be made.

Eustace informed me that he had told his stories to the
children in various situations--in the woods, on the shore of
the lake, in the dell of Shadow Brook, in the playroom, at
Tanglewood fireside, and in a magnificent palace of snow, with
ice windows, which he helped his little friends to build. His
auditors were even more delighted with the contents of the
present volume than with the specimens which have already been
given to the world. The classically learned Mr. Pringle, too,
had listened to two or three of the tales, and censured them
even more bitterly than he did THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES; so
that, what with praise, and what with criticism, Eustace Bright
thinks that there is good hope of at least as much success with
the public as in the case of the "WonderBook."

I made all sorts of inquiries about the children, not doubting
that there would be great eagerness to hear of their welfare,
among some good little folks who have written to me, to ask for
another volume of myths. They are all, I am happy to say
(unless we except Clover), in excellent health and spirits.
Primrose is now almost a young lady, and, Eustace tells me, is
just as saucy as ever. She pretends to consider herself quite
beyond the age to be interested by such idle stories as these;
but, for all that, whenever a story is to be told, Primrose
never fails to be one of the listeners, and to make fun of it