There is no sweeter song. And do you think we did not tumble into our clothes and rush down, in wrappers, in petticoats, in whatever gown could be most quickly put on, and unbar the door, and bring the dear wanderer in, with joyful cries, with laughter, almost with tears of pure pleasure?
All, that was “long ago and long ago;” and now the kind uncle, the great heart that overflowed with love and charity and goodwill to all human kind, has passed through another door, and will not return! Be sure that on knocking at that white portal, he found hospitality within.
And now it is time that these rambling notes should draw to a close. There are many things that I might still speak of. But, after all, long ago is long ago, and these glimpses of our happy childhood must necessarily be fragmentary and brief. I trust they may have given pleasure to some children. I wish all childhood might be as bright, as happy, as free from care or sorrow, as was ours.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] I find it to be stone clover.
[2] In the book entitled “Queen Hildegarde.”