Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a

tart on a certain brightly painted china plate, whose bird of

paradise, nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds, had been

wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and

which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand

in order to examine it more closely, but had always hitherto been

deemed unworthy of such a privilege. This precious vessel was now

placed on my knee, and I was cordially invited to eat the circlet of

delicate pastry upon it. Vain favour! coming, like most other

favours long deferred and often wished for, too late! I could not

eat the tart; and the plumage of the bird, the tints of the flowers,

seemed strangely faded: I put both plate and tart away. Bessie

asked if I would have a book: the word BOOK acted as a transient

stimulus, and I begged her to fetch Gulliver's Travels from the

library. This book I had again and again perused with delight. I

considered it a narrative of facts, and discovered in it a vein of

interest deeper than what I found in fairy tales: for as to the

elves, having sought them in vain among foxglove leaves and bells,

under mushrooms and beneath the ground-ivy mantling old wall-nooks,

I had at length made up my mind to the sad truth, that they were all

gone out of England to some savage country where the woods were

wilder and thicker, and the population more scant; whereas, Lilliput

and Brobdignag being, in my creed, solid parts of the earth's

surface, I doubted not that I might one day, by taking a long

voyage, see with my own eyes the little fields, houses, and trees,

the diminutive people, the tiny cows, sheep, and birds of the one

realm; and the corn-fields forest-high, the mighty mastiffs, the

monster cats, the tower-like men and women, of the other. Yet, when

this cherished volume was now placed in my hand--when I turned over

its leaves, and sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I had,

till now, never failed to find--all was eerie and dreary; the giants

were gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fearful imps,

Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread and dangerous

regions. I closed the book, which I dared no longer peruse, and put

it on the table, beside the untasted tart.

Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, and having

washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of

splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for

Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was -




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