The Child’s Story Page #2

"The Child's Story" is a poignant short tale by Charles Dickens that reflects on the passage of time and the enduring nature of childhood. Through the lens of a narrator who recounts the journey of a child growing up, Dickens explores themes of innocence, nostalgia, and the bittersweet realities of growing older. The narrative moves through different phases of life, highlighting the emotional connection between the child and the world around them. With Dickens's characteristic empathy and vivid prose, the story captures the essence of childhood experiences and the inevitable changes that come with maturity.

• Short story

								

pressing forward on their journey without looking down it when the lady
stopped.

“My husband,” said the lady.  “I am called.”

They listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue, say,
“Mother, mother!”

It was the voice of the first child who had said, “I am going to Heaven!”
and the father said, “I pray not yet.  The sunset is very near.  I pray
not yet!”

But, the voice cried, “Mother, mother!” without minding him, though his
hair was now quite white, and tears were on his face.

Then, the mother, who was already drawn into the shade of the dark avenue
and moving away with her arms still round his neck, kissed him, and said,
“My dearest, I am summoned, and I go!”  And she was gone.  And the
traveller and he were left alone together.

And they went on and on together, until they came to very near the end of
the wood: so near, that they could see the sunset shining red before them
through the trees.

Yet, once more, while he broke his way among the branches, the traveller
lost his friend.  He called and called, but there was no reply, and when
he passed out of the wood, and saw the peaceful sun going down upon a
wide purple prospect, he came to an old man sitting on a fallen tree.
So, he said to the old man, “What do you do here?”  And the old man said
with a calm smile, “I am always remembering.  Come and remember with me!”

So the traveller sat down by the side of that old man, face to face with
the serene sunset; and all his friends came softly back and stood around
him.  The beautiful child, the handsome boy, the young man in love, the
father, mother, and children: every one of them was there, and he had
lost nothing.  So, he loved them all, and was kind and forbearing with
them all, and was always pleased to watch them all, and they all honoured
and loved him.  And I think the traveller must be yourself, dear
Grandfather, because this what you do to us, and what we do to you.
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