Page:Diary of a Pilgrimage (1891).pdf/236

 —"The Lord is in his holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before him."

The serious and the comic seem to be for ever playing hide-and-seek with one another in and out our lives, like light and shadow through an April day; and ofttimes they, as children in a game, catch one another and embrace, and, with their arms entwined, lean for a space upon each other before the chase begins afresh. I was walking up and down the garden, following out this very idea—namely, of the childishness of our trying to teach one another in matters that we know so little of ourselves—when, on passing the summer-house, I overheard my argument being amusingly illustrated by my eldest niece, aged seven, who was sitting very upright in a very big chair, giving information to her younger sister, aged five, on the subject of "Babies: their origin, discovery, and use."

"You know, babies," she was remarking in conclusion, "ain't like dollies. Babies is 'live. Nobody gives you babies till you're growed up. An' they're very improper. We 're not s'posed to talk 'bout such things—we was babies once."

She is a very thoughtful child, is my eldest niece. Her thirst for knowledge is a most praiseworthy trait in her