Sweet Content

"Sweet Content.” That was my name when I was a very tiny child. It may sound rather conceited to tell this of myself, but when I have told all the story I am now beginning, I don’t think, at least I hope, you, whoever you are that read it, won’t say I am conceited. Indeed, if I thought anyone I knew, or rather that knew me, would be likely to read it and to know that the “I” of it was me, I am not by any means sure that I would write it. But, of course, it is not at all certain that it ever will be printed or seen by anyone (except, perhaps, by my children, if, when I am grown up, I am married and have any) who ever heard of me. The world seems to me a very big place; there are such lots and lots of people in it, old ones and children, and middling ones; and they are all busy and taken up about their own affairs. Some other children might like to read my story, just as a story, for I do think some parts of it are rather extra interesting; but it is not probable that any of them would recognise me, or the other “characters” (I think that is the right word) in it. Except—except some of the other characters themselves! They don’t know I am writing it, perhaps they never will know about it; but if they did—yes, even if they read every word of it—I don’t think I’d mind. They are so truly no, I mustn’t begin telling about them like that; you will understand, all in good time, why, least of any people in the world, perhaps, I should mind their reading the exactly how it was of everything I have to tell. This shows how perfectly I can trust them. And in saying even that, though I really couldn’t help it, I’m afraid I have already got rather out of the proper orderly way of telling a story. I will start clearly now. What I have written already is a sort of preface or introduction. And it has a much better chance of being read than if I had put it separately. As I began about my baby name, and as I am going to use it for a title—for several reasons, as you will see I will first explain about it."