“That child’s table manners aren’t nice. Did you see him put his hands into his saucer of spinach?” “He does so delight in green things!” In our studies she took no interest. But she had that soul-culture which bestows its delicate flower upon the mind. One knew quite enough if one was well behaved and a good Catholic. Indeed it was her opinion that our brains were too early crowded with a lot of useless knowledge. She could find no manner of use for the history of pagans, and as for arithmetic, she had never known how to add. But on the other hand our health, our cleanliness, our happiness, were entirely her affair. She sang to put us to sleep, she sang to amuse us, she sang to encourage us to take our first steps. All my memories reverberate with the tintinnabulation of her songs. There was one cradle song in which we became by turns general, cardinal and emperor, and the refrain of which was designed to encourage us to wait with patience for the brilliant future. “_Meanwhile wait, and on my lap_. _Lovely cherub, take your nap_.” The lovely cherubim, however, were seldom in haste to take their naps. There was also the “Charming Nest” which “naughty little sharp-eyed imps” tried to destroy, though it ought to be respected, for “_It was the hope of Spring time_ _And all a mother’s love_.” Sometimes it would be the prisoner Silvio Pellico who in heart-rending strains longed for his Italian breezes. One of my earliest plays was the escape of Silvio Pellico, though I had no idea who he was. My favourite songs were perhaps “The Pool” and “Venice.” I call them thus because I knew no other titles for them. “The Pool” told of a fearful tragedy from drowning: _Little children, have a care_ _When you run across and follow._ _There’s a deep pool hidden there_ _By the dark trees in the hollow._ _Listen to what happened there_, _When a child with golden hair_, _Slipped away from his mamma-a-a._ The fair child was running after a dragon-fly, and “the maiden with golden wings” enticed him into the cold water. That would teach him not to steal away from the maternal arms! As for “Venice,” I remember likewise the first lines, with all their doggerel: _If God should favor-ize_ _My noble enterprise_, _I’ll hie me to Ven-ize_ _And spend my days in joy._