Dedication
TO
JOHN BLAND
My Lamb, you are so very small,
You have not learned to read at all;
Yet never a printed book withstands
The urgence of your dimpled hands.
So, though this book is for yourself,
Let mother keep it on the shelf
Till you can read. O days that pass,
That day will come too soon, alas!
Note
Parts of this story have appeared in
the Strand Magazine under the title of
“THE PSAMMEAD.”