Twilight And Dawn | Page 3

will find in this book something about the firm ground upon
which you trod as soon as you were old enough to run about the fields
and pick the daisies. Something too about the blue sky, where the lark
sings and the swallows fly; and the great wide sea, where the fishes live;
and a little about what the Bible tells us of how all that you see around
you came to be; long, long ago, when everything was quite new and
beautiful, and God said that all that He had made was "very good."
"Then it is a lesson-book?" I hear you say.
Yes, in one way, and yet not quite all lessons, for you will find some
stories here too.
And now I must answer the (_b_) question about these same stories, for
I want you to know, before you begin to read them, that they are all true,
and there is no pretending or making-up about them.
Question (_c_), about the pictures, you can soon answer for yourself; so
now I have only the (_d_) question to answer, and I can only say for
my book, that I do not know whether or not you will care for it; but I do
know that the person who made it loves children, and very much likes
teaching them and talking to them. And that you may better understand
that I know something about children, I will explain that, though I am
only talking to you just now, I shall tell you in this book the very same
things which I told to some children who came every morning to do
their lessons at my house, three or four years ago--at least, I will write
down for you all I can remember of the talks these children and I had

together, and I will tell you the same true stories which I told them. I
used to ask them to give me their ears, and I must ask you to give me
your eyes; for writing is different from talking, is it not? You cannot
look up in my face and ask me questions as my children did; and when
I ask you a question, I cannot hear you answer, but am obliged to fancy
what you would be likely to say. Still, I think we shall be friends, and
get to know each other a little, even by means of this dumb-show talk,
as I speak to you with my hand and you listen to me with your eyes.
And now I want to tell you about my children. It was a beautiful
morning in September when I opened the schoolroom door, and found
them, all the seven, sitting round the table, waiting to begin school
again, for the long summer holidays were over. I was afraid they would
think it rather hard to sit still and do lessons, especially when the sun
was shining brightly and it was as pleasant a day as could be out of
doors; but as I looked at their bright faces, I thought they did not seem
as if they minded coming back to school so very much after all.
I wonder what you feel like, when the holidays are over and your little
work-a-day world begins again? Does it seem too bad to be true? or are
you just a tiny bit glad to have something that you really must do,
instead of all play and no work? Do you know--and you remember I
told you I knew children pretty well--I have actually met with girls, and
boys too, who have sometimes, especially on a very wet day in the
holidays, found this delightful having nothing to do all day long harder
work than the most difficult of their lessons?
And now for the names of my children. You would like to know them,
would you not? for they are real boys and girls, not children in a story
book.
My eldest boy was Ernest, and he sat at the bottom of the table,
opposite the place where I always sat, and where someone had put a
chair for me. Next in age came Charlotte, Ernest's sister; and then
Chrissie, the elder brother of Eustace and Dick. I put Sharley and
Chrissie together, because they were both ten years old and did most of
their lessons out of the same books. Next came another little pair: May,
Ernest's younger sister, and Eustace. Last of all, the little ones: Ernest's
youngest brother, Leslie, and Chrissie's youngest brother, Dick. These
little boys were only six years old.
Now that you know the ages of my children you will be able to tell

whether any of them were about your own age; perhaps you may be
older than Chrissie and Sharley, or even Ernest, who was