To the child the world is a place of wonder. The sky arching overhead, the stars that come and go, the moon that follows him about. The clouds gathering and dissolving; now lighting up with exquisite color, now darkening with the frown of the thunder, fill him with wondering awe. The fluffy, wee chick, the clumsy puppy tumbling about at his feet, the funny monkey climbing to his masters shoulder or squatting on the top of the organ make him laugh aloud in wondering delight. The scarlet-coated Santa ringing his bell and inviting the children to keep his pot a-boiling; the Santa that lives in the shop and holds out a friendly hand for the letter that begs for the cherished toy swell his soul with a tremulous joyous wonder. He is a questioning, wondering, happy child. A h, the world is a glorious place IT he mountainous elephant swaying from side to side and gracefully curling his magic trunk to take a peanut from the quivering little hand is too, too wonderful for speech. No words can do him justice. The child stands before the solemn camel and contemplates him with round eyes and mouth. He vaguely wonders how so much sorrow ever settled on one lone face. He is fascinated by the mystery of him, this sad son of the desert. And the circus. My, the circus IT he most wonderful of wondering places.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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