Short essays written by a father in memory of his daughters, growing up between the wars in Vienna. Many of these stories are touching and lovely; many others are almost unbearably sad and brutal, particularly those which feature animals or disabled people. A certain sadness permeates the work, which reads not so much like nostalgia as mourning. The author's note is both telling and touching. "When I first published these little things [ca. 1927], Vienna was still enchanting, the name of Hitler had not yet disgraced mankind. And Agathe, my older daughter, was still alive. "Since then, Vienna has been enslaved, its ruins freed, mankind tortured. And Agathe, who was so typically Viennese, has died. "She died three days after her eighteenth birthday. Her grave lies in the churchyard of Morzg near Salzburg, just an hour from Berchtesgaden. "How the door into the world opened to her, to her sister, and, I believe, to many other children, that's all this little memorandum book of first steps on the road was meant to be. "With this new edition I hoped to bring her, whose grave lies so near to barbarism, closer to a continent where there need be no fear for the undisturbed sleep of the dead. "E.L., New York, April 11, 1945