CDttft an& t^e 



Drain," the punt with the name on it, and the 

 golliwog himself ; and I can further, if need be, as- 

 sure any disbeliever that I really found the little 

 dark-complexioned gentleman on the seat looking 

 very disconsolate, and he was wet! Could fur- 

 ther proof be needed, even by Sherlock Holmes? 

 The golliwog may, moreover, still be seen sitting 

 on a shelf over the window of my dressing-room, 

 and he is now dry. I have no wish to fortify my 

 case by keeping him permanently moist. 



I can not end this chapter without quoting 

 Harold Begbie's beautiful lines on Childhood : 



How like an open flow'r thou art, 

 Dear life aglow with all that's sweet, 



Blue sunny eyes, a bounding heart, 

 Innocent hands and feet. 



In what cool paths thy footsteps run, 

 A garden plot thine orbed earth: 



And all thy quest beneath the sun 

 Innocent joy and mirth. 



Thy prattle thrills the quivering lark, 

 Thy laughter tips the rippling corn, 



All happy things rejoicing mark 

 Thy coming, like the morn. 



85 



