long, dark, silent valley, and met the souls of the mothers of all
countries, who had come there, like me, to mourn ... and our tears
were very hot, and very bitter ... for we knew that it was the Valley
of Lost Childhood!




CHAPTER IV

PICTURES

Nothing is lost that our memories hold,
Nothing forgotten that once we knew;
And to-day a boy with curls of gold
Is running my fond heart through and through--
In and out and round and round--
And I find myself laughing without a sound
At the funny things he said that time
When life was one glad nursery rhyme.


It should not be so hard for mothers to give up their children. We
should grow accustomed to it, for we are always losing them. I once
had a curly-haired baby with eyes like blue forget-me-nots, who had a
sweet way of saying his words, and who coined many phrases which are
still in use in my family. Who is there who cannot see that
"a-ging-a-wah" has a much more refreshing sound than "a drink of
water"? And I am sure that nobody could think of a nicer name for the
hammer and nails than a "num and a peedaw." At an incredibly early age