"I GUESS he means trunk," replied my oldest nephew.

Recollections of my childish delight in rummaging an old trunk--it
seems a century ago that I did it--caused me to smile
sympathetically at Toddie, to his apparent great delight. How
delightful it is to strike a sympathetic chord in child-nature,
thought I; how quickly the infant eye comprehends the look which
precedes the verbal expression of an idea! Dear Toddie! for years
we might sit at one table, careless of each other's words, but the
casual mention of one of thy delights has suddenly brought our
souls into that sweetest of all human communions--that one which
doubtless bound the Master himself to that apostle who was
otherwise apparently the weakest among the chosen twelve. "An
awfoo funny chunt" seemed to annihilate suddenly all differences
of age, condition and experience between the wee boy and myself,
and--

A direful thought struck me. I dashed up-stairs and into my room.
Yes, he DID mean my trunk. _I_ could see nothing funny about it--
quite the contrary. The bond of sympathy between my nephew and
myself was suddenly broken. Looking at the matter from the
comparative distance which a few weeks have placed between that
day and this, I can see that I was unable to consider the scene
before me with a calm and unprejudiced mind. I am now satisfied
that the sudden birth and hasty decease of my sympathy with Toddie
were striking instances of human inconsistency. My soul had gone
out to his because he loved to rummage in trunks, and because I
imagined he loved to see the monument of incongruous material
which resulted from such an operation; the scene before me showed