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Updated: July 18, 2025
Fear and terror had brought on a violent fever, of which I lay ill several weeks. "Is the Sand-man still there?" these were the first words I uttered on coming to myself again, the first sign of my recovery, of my safety.
She turned, nodded her adieux, then, over her shoulder, casually: "If you haven't an appointment with the Sand-Man before dinner you may find me in the gun-room." "I'll be there in about three minutes," he said; "and what about this dog?" looking down at the Sagamore pup who stood before him, wagging, attentive, always the gentleman to the tips of his toes. Miss Landis laughed.
The Sand-man, the terrible Sand-man, is the old advocate Coppelius who often comes to dine with us. But the most hideous figure could not have awakened greater trepidation in my heart than this Coppelius did.
I liked nothing better than to hear or read horrible stories of goblins, witches, Tom Thumbs, and so on; but always at the head of them all stood the Sand-man, whose picture I scribbled in the most extraordinary and repulsive forms with both chalk and coal everywhere, on the tables, and cupboard doors, and walls.
As soon as I saw this Coppelius, therefore, the fearful and hideous thought arose in my mind that he, and he alone, must be the Sand-man; but I no longer conceived of the Sand-man as the bugbear in the old nurse's fable, who fetched children's eyes and took them to the half-moon as food for his little ones no! but as an ugly spectre-like fiend bringing trouble and misery and ruin, both temporal and everlasting, everywhere wherever he appeared.
Those of us who ask much of the contemporary theatre may be saddened to observe that most of the current dramatists seem more akin to the sand-man than to Praxiteles. They have built Courts of Honor for forty weeks, rather than temples to Poseidon for eternity.
After this I formed in my own mind a horrible picture of the cruel Sand-man. When anything came blundering upstairs at night I trembled with fear and dismay; and all that my mother could get out of me were the stammered words "The Sandman! the Sand-man!" whilst the tears coursed down my cheeks.
"Oh, fath-er-and-moth-er questions," said Gwendolyn. "Precisely," answered the little old gentleman; " about my friends, Santa Claus and the Sand-Man, for instance " "They're not friends of Potter's, I guess. 'Cause he " " And the fairies, and the gnomes, and the giants; and Mother Goose and her crowd. Of course a nurse or a governess or a teacher of some sort might try to explain.
This answer of mother's did not satisfy me; nay, in my childish mind the thought clearly unfolded itself that mother denied there was a Sand-man only to prevent us being afraid, why, I always heard him come upstairs.
If every line of your letter did not betray the violent excitement of your mind, and if I did not sympathise with your condition from the bottom of my heart, I could in truth jest about the advocate Sand-man and weather-glass hawker Coppelius. Pluck up your spirits! Be cheerful!
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