forward. His monkey was almost as wonderful as his bear, only he was too
big for it, and was obliged to aim at reality in his representation of
this animal by means of a number of breakages; a defect that brought our
landlady on the scene. The enchantment of my father's companionship
caused me to suffer proportionately in his absence. During that period
of solitude, my nursemaid had to order me to play, and I would stumble
about and squat in the middle of the floor, struck suddenly by the marvel
of the difference between my present and my other home. My father
entered into arrangements with a Punch and Judy man for him to pay me
regular morning visits opposite our window; yet here again his genius
defeated his kind intentions; for happening once to stand by my side
during the progress of the show, he made it so vivid to me by what he
said and did, that I saw no fun in it without him: I used to dread the
heralding crow of Punch if he was away, and cared no longer for wooden
heads being knocked ever so hard.

On Sundays we walked to the cathedral, and this was a day with a delight
of its own for me. He was never away on the Sunday. Both of us attired
in our best, we walked along the streets hand in hand; my father led me
before the cathedral monuments, talking in a low tone of British
victories, and commending the heroes to my undivided attention.
I understood very early that it was my duty to imitate them. While we
remained in the cathedral he talked of glory and Old England, and dropped
his voice in the middle of a murmured chant to introduce Nelson's name or
some other great man's and this recurred regularly. 'What are we for
now?' he would ask me as we left our house. I had to decide whether we
took a hero or an author, which I soon learnt to do with capricious
resolution. We were one Sunday for Shakespeare; another for Nelson or
Pitt. 'Nelson, papa,' was my most frequent rejoinder, and he never
dissented, but turned his steps toward Nelson's cathedral dome, and