" He complained,
one night, that his feet were hot and tired. His daughter arranged the
blankets around them, saying, "Is that better, papa?" when he answered,
"Yes, my love, I think it is; you know, my dear girl, these are the feet
that Christ washed."
Everything seemed to connect itself in his mind with little children. He
aroused one day, and said suddenly,--"You must know, my dear, the
Edinburgh cabmen are the most brutal set of fellows under the sun. I
must tell you that I and the little children were all invited to supper
with Jesus Christ. So, as you see, it was a great honor. I thought I
must buy new dresses for the little ones; and--would you believe it
possible?--when I went out with the children, these wretches laughed at
their new dresses."
"Of my brothers he often spoke, both those that are dead and those that
are alive, as if they were his own brothers. One night he said, when I
entered the room,--
"'Is that you, Horace?'
"'No, papa.'
"'Oh, I see! I thought you were Horace; for he was talking to me just
now, and I suppose has just left the room.
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