A Tale of London
Thirteen at Table
The City on Mallington Moor
Why the Milkman Shudders When He Perceives the Dawn
The Bad Old Woman in Black
The Bird of the Difficult Eye
The Long Porter's Tale
The Loot of Loma
The Secret of the Sea
How Ali Came to the Black Country
The Bureau d'Echange de Maux
A Story of Land and Sea
Guarantee To The Reader
A Tale of the Equator
A Narrow Escape
The Watch-tower
How Plash-Goo Came to the Land of None's Desire
The Three Sailors' Gambit
The Exiles Club
The Three Infernal Jokes
Ebrington Barracks
Aug. 16th 1916.
I do not know where I may be when this preface is read. As I write itin August 1916, I am at Ebrington Barracks, Londonderry, recoveringfrom a slight wound. But it does not greatly matter where I am; mydreams are here before you amongst the following pages; and writing ina day when life is cheap, dreams seem to me all the dearer, the onlythings that survive.
Just now the civilization of Europe seems almost to have ceased, andnothing seems to grow in her torn fields but death, yet this is onlyfor a while and dreams will come back again and bloom as of old, allthe more radiantly for this terrible ploughing, as the flowers willbloom again where the trenches are and the primroses shelter inshell-holes for many seasons, when weeping Liberty has come home toFlanders.
To some of you in America this may seem an unnecessary and wastefulquarrel, as other people's quarrels often are; but it comes to thisthat though we are all killed there will be songs again, but if wewere to submit and so survive there could be neither songs nor dreams,nor any joyous free things any more.
And do not regret the lives that are wasted amongst us, or the workthat the dead would have done, for war is no accident that man's carecould have averted, but is as natural, though not as regular, as thetides; as well regret the things that the tide has washed away, whichdestroys and cleanses and crumbles, and spares the minutest shells.
And now I will write nothing further about our war, but offer youthese books of dreams from Europe as one throws things of value, ifonly to oneself, at the last moment out of a burning house.
DUNSANY.