been to England before, but I know all about it. There's great palaces
of gold and ivory--that's for the lords and bishops--and there's
Windsor Castle, the biggest of all, carved out of a single
diamond--that's for the queen. And she's the most beautiful lady in
the whole world, and feeds her peacocks and birds of paradise out of
a ruby cup. And there the sun is always shining, so that nobody wants
any candles. O, words would fail me if I endeavoured to convey to you
one-half of the splendours of that enchanted realm!"

This last sentence tumbled so oddly from the childish lips, that I
could not hide a smile as I looked down on my visitor. He stood just
outside my cabin-door--a small serious boy of about eight, with long
flaxen curls hardly dry from his morning bath. In the pauses of
conversation he rubbed his head with a big bath-towel. His legs
and feet were bare, and he wore only a little shirt and velveteen
breeches, with scarlet ribbons hanging untied at the knees.

"You're laughing!"

I stifled the smile.

"What were you laughing at?"

"Why, you're wrong, little man, on just one or two points," I answered
evasively.

"Which?"

"Well, about the sunshine in England. The sun is not always shining
there, by any means."