After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes. My heart would feel light， peaceful， and happy， and one dream would follow another. Dreams of what？ They were all of them vague， but all of them full of pure love and of a sort of expectation of happiness. Usually， also， there would be some favorite toy — a china dog or hare stuck into the bed-corner behind the pillow， and it would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well cared — for it was there. Also， I would pray God to make everyone happy， so that every one might be contented， and also to send f？ine weather tomorrow for our walk. Then I would turn myself over on to the other side， and thoughts and dreams would become jumbled and entangled together until at last I slept soundly and peacefully， though with a face wet with tears.
Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness， the craving for love and for strength of faith， ever return which we experience in our childhood’s years？ What better time is there in our lives than when the two best of virtues — innocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for affection — are our sole objects of pursuit？
Where now are our ardent prayers？ Where now are our best gifts — the pure tears of emotion which a guardian angel dries with a smile as he sheds upon us lovely dreams of ineffable childish joy？ Can it be that life has left such heavy traces upon one’s heart that those tears and ecstasies are for ever vanished？ Can it be that there remains to us only the recollection of them？
快乐的，快乐的，不再回来的童年时代啊！怎能不让我热爱和珍视对你的回忆呢？这些回忆让我精神亢奋、心灵欢快，是我无限乐趣的源泉。
有时，我会回忆起流逝的岁月。那时跑不动了，我就在茶桌旁那把高背安乐椅上安逸地坐下来；夜深了，我早就喝光我杯里的牛奶，迷迷糊糊地合上眼睛，静坐在那儿聆听妈妈在同什么人说话，她的声音是那么婉转优美！那声音不停地在我的心灵深处**漾，让我想起那段美妙的时光。我用迷糊的睡眼渴望地看着妈妈的脸。忽然，妈妈的身影逐渐变小，她的面孔缩小成了一个小点。可是，我依然可以看到她，她笑眯眯地瞥了我一眼。不知什么缘故，我喜欢看见妈妈变得这么小的样子。我眨了眨双眼，她的样子变得和瞳人里的小孩儿一样大了。后来我被惊醒了，画面也不见了。我半眯着眼睛，举目四望，努力想使梦中的景象再现，却一点儿也想不起来了。我站起来，又马上惬意地躺回安乐椅上。