"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 any one 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 any one (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.