The world of the small had been a boyhood fascination. Now, as a man, he went into that weird world… There in the darkness a tiny flame danced for a moment . . . so much affectionate concern.
Excerpt
The story of my strange experiences begins on a Christmas morning when I was ten and a half years old. Among the contents of a bulging Christmas stocking I found a pocket magnifier. There were three neat and shiny lenses that folded into a hard black case that was marked on the sides with crossed lines, like the body of a fish. But it was far more wonderful than any fish. Under its lenses things grew. Things so tiny they were nothing more than a blur to the eye became very clear and near, and revealed their mysteries. Every familiar object became suddenly unfamiliar, offering a limitless field of discovery and a knowledge of life that it was worse than death to do without.
I spent that entire day going from room to room in the house, examining the minute details of everything I had accepted as comfortably ordinary. Now nothing was usual, or ordinary, or even comfortable to have about until it had been seen again with these new magic "eyes." All the other gifts lay neglected and ignored much to the disgust and bewilderment of those doting relatives who had bestowed them upon me with.
The next day and the day following were spent in the same rambling survey of the house and its contents. My parents became alarmed at this intense concentration upon the world of small, and threatened to take away the magnifier if I continued to do nothing but prowl about with it. At this point my grandfather intervened. Instead of forbidding me the glorious occupation, he began to teach me some of the possibilities of my treasure.
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