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- Чарльз Диккенс
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The
dreams
of
childhood
--
its
airy
fables
;
its
graceful
,
beautiful
,
humane
,
impossible
adornments
of
the
world
beyond
:
so
good
to
be
believed
in
once
,
so
good
to
be
remembered
when
outgrown
,
for
then
the
least
among
them
rises
to
the
stature
of
a
great
Charity
in
the
heart
,
suffering
little
children
to
come
into
the
midst
of
it
,
and
to
keep
with
their
pure
hands
a
garden
in
the
stony
ways
of
this
world
,
wherein
it
were
better
for
all
the
children
of
Adam
that
they
should
oftener
sun
themselves
,
simple
and
trustful
,
and
not
worldly-wise
--
what
had
she
to
do
with
these
?
Remembrances
of
how
she
had
journeyed
to
the
little
that
she
knew
,
by
the
enchanted
roads
of
what
she
and
millions
of
innocent
creatures
had
hoped
and
imagined
;
of
how
,
first
coming
upon
Reason
through
the
tender
light
of
Fancy
,
she
had
seen
it
a
beneficent
god
,
deferring
to
gods
as
great
as
itself
;
not
a
grim
Idol
,
cruel
and
cold
,
with
its
victims
bound
hand
to
foot
,
and
its
big
dumb
shape
set
up
with
a
sightless
stare
,
never
to
be
moved
by
anything
but
so
many
calculated
tons
of
leverage
--
what
had
she
to
do
with
these
?
Her
remembrances
of
home
and
childhood
were
remembrances
of
the
drying
up
of
every
spring
and
fountain
in
her
young
heart
as
it
gushed
out
.
The
golden
waters
were
not
there
.
They
were
flowing
for
the
fertilization
of
the
land
where
grapes
are
gathered
from
thorns
,
and
figs
from
thistles
.
She
went
,
with
a
heavy
,
hardened
kind
of
sorrow
upon
her
,
into
the
house
and
into
her
mother
's
room
.
Since
the
time
of
her
leaving
home
,
Sissy
had
lived
with
the
rest
of
the
family
on
equal
terms
.
Sissy
was
at
her
mother
's
side
;
and
Jane
,
her
sister
,
now
ten
or
twelve
years
old
,
was
in
the
room
.
There
was
great
trouble
before
it
could
be
made
known
to
Mrs.
Gradgrind
that
her
eldest
child
was
there
.
She
reclined
,
propped
up
,
from
mere
habit
,
on
a
couch
:
as
nearly
in
her
old
usual
attitude
,
as
anything
so
helpless
could
be
kept
in
.
She
had
positively
refused
to
take
to
her
bed
;
on
the
ground
that
if
she
did
,
she
would
never
hear
the
last
of
it
.
Her
feeble
voice
sounded
so
far
away
in
her
bundle
of
shawls
,
and
the
sound
of
another
voice
addressing
her
seemed
to
take
such
a
long
time
in
getting
down
to
her
ears
,
that
she
might
have
been
lying
at
the
bottom
of
a
well
.
The
poor
lady
was
nearer
Truth
than
she
ever
had
been
:
which
had
much
to
do
with
it
.
On
being
told
that
Mrs.
Bounderby
was
there
,
she
replied
,
at
cross-purposes
,
that
she
had
never
called
him
by
that
name
since
he
married
Louisa
;
that
pending
her
choice
of
an
objectionable
name
,
she
had
called
him
J
;
and
that
she
could
not
at
present
depart
from
that
regulation
,
not
being
yet
provided
with
a
permanent
substitute
.
Louisa
had
sat
by
her
for
some
minutes
,
and
had
spoken
to
her
often
,
before
she
arrived
at
a
clear
understanding
who
it
was
.
She
then
seemed
to
come
to
it
all
at
once
.
'
Well
,
my
dear
,
'
said
Mrs.
Gradgrind
,
'
and
I
hope
you
are
going
on
satisfactorily
to
yourself
.
It
was
all
your
father
's
doing
.
He
set
his
heart
upon
it
.
And
he
ought
to
know
.
'
'
I
want
to
hear
of
you
,
mother
;
not
of
myself
.
'
'
You
want
to
hear
of
me
,
my
dear
?
That
's
something
new
,
I
am
sure
,
when
anybody
wants
to
hear
of
me
.
Not
at
all
well
,
Louisa
.
Very
faint
and
giddy
.
'
