pageant that rolls past our view under the direction of the aristocrat
of literature made my late life seem poor and mean. How low we were! The
darkened costers are interesting as studies in animal life; but the more
pretentious persons whose humour reaches its highest flight in an
indecent story, and whose wit consists in calling someone else a
liar--how petty they are, and how fruitless is their friendship! I began
to feel like a patrician who surveys the mob from his lordly dais, and I
almost resolved to go back to the clubs and theatres once more.

Teddy increased so much in mental power that he took interest in fairy
tales, and he was a rigorous taskmaster. I was obliged to illustrate the
stories in varied ways. Once I was asked, "What's a gian'?" I said, "A
very, very big man." "Big as you?" "Far bigger." "How bigger? Has he got
legs, and heads, and--and things like that?" "We'll see. When I stand on
this chair I'm as big as a giant," but it was all of no avail, and only
after Teddy had seen a huge, knock-kneed being in a penny show did he
understand what a giant could be like. Then he asked for giant stories
on all occasions.

It struck me that I was neglecting Teddy's religious education. Hundreds
and thousands of such little fellows in and about London have no notion
of a God, or any ruling power save the policeman. I had a dark mind to
deal with, and Teddy's questions fairly beat me. Of course I took the
old orthodox ideas, and tried to make them simple, but Teddy posed me
like this:

"Do God live in a sky?"

"Far away. Yes; well, say in the sky."