The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-07-14
THE CHILD'S STORY.
BY CHARLES DICKENS

Once upon time, good many years
ago, there was traveller, and he set out
upon journey. 1t was magic jour
ney, and was to seem very long when ne
began it, and very short when he got
half way through.
He travelled along q rather dark path for
some little time without meeting anything,
until at last he came to beautiful child.
So he said to the child, "What do you do
here?' And the child said, II am always
at play. Come and play with me-"
So he played with that child the whole
day long, and they were very merry.
The sky was SO blue, the sun was SO
bright, the water was so sparkling, the
leaves we're so green, the flowers were SO
lovely, and they heard such singing
birds, and saw 60 many butterflies, that
everything was beautiful This was in
fine weather. When it rsined they loved
to watch the falling drops, and to smell
the fresh scents. When it blew it was
delightful to listen to the wind, and fancy
what it said, as it came rushing from it's
home-where was that, they wondered!
-whistling and bowling, driving the
clouds before it, bending the trees,
rumbling in the chimneys, shaking the
house, and making the sea roar in fury.
But, when it showed, that was best of
all; for they liked nothing so we'll as to
look up at the white flakes falling thick
and fast like down from the breasts of
millions of white birds, and to see how
smooth and deep the drift was; and to
listen to the hush upon the paths and
roads.
They had plenty of the finest toys in
the world, and the most astonishing
pict ure books; all about scimetars and
slippers and turbans and dwarfs and
giants and genii and fairies and blue
boards and beanstalks and riches and
caverns and forests and Valentines and
Orsons; and all new and all true.
But, one day, of sudden, the traveller
lost the child. He called to him over
and over again but got no answer. So
he went upon his road, and went on for
little while without meeting anything
until at last he came to handsome boy.
So he said to the boy, "What do you do
bere?' and the boy said, 81 am always
learning. Come and learn with me-"
So be learned with that boy about
Jupiter and Juno, and the Greeks and
the Romans, and don't know what, and
learned more than I could tell-or he
either, for he soon forgot a good deal of
it. Bat they were not always learning.
They had the merriest games that ever
were played. They rowed upon the river
ter; they were active afoot, and active on
horseback; at cricket, and all games of
ball; at prisoners base, hare and hounds,
follow my leader, and more sports than
1 can think Of; nobody could beat
them. They had holidays, too, and
Twelfth cakes, and parties where they
danced till midnight, and real theaters
where they saw palaces of real gold and
silver rise out of the real earth, and saw
all the wonders of the world at once. As
to friends, they had such dear friends
and so many of them, that 1 want the
time to reckon them up. They were all
young like the handsome boy, and we're
never to be strange to one another all
their lives through.
Still, one day in the midst of all
these pleasures, the traveller lost the
boy as he had lost the child, and after
calling to him in vain, went upon his
jou ney. So he went on for little while
without seeing anything, until at last he
came to young man. So he said to the
young man, "What doyou do here2' and
the young man said, 81 am always in
love. Come and love with me-
SO he went away with that young man
and presently they came to one of the
prettiest girls that ever was seen-just
like Fanny in the corner the re-and she
had eyes like Fanny, and hair like Fanny,
and dimples like Fanny's, and she
laughed and colored just as Fanny does
while 1 am talking about her. So the
young man fell i'll love directly -iust as
somebody / won't mention, the fret time
he came here, did with Fanny. WE'LL he
was teazed sometimes-just as somebody
used to be by Fanny; and they quarreled
sometimes-iust as somebody and Fan
ny used to quarrel; and they made it up
and sat in the dark, and wrote letters
every day, and never were happy asund.
or, and were always looking out for one
another, and pretending not to, and we're