And even if they could have been purchased for us, would
we, the primitive children of those dear, dark ages, have ever thought
of wrenching off the cracked blonde head of Ethelinda and buying a
new, strange, nameless brunette head, gluing it calmly on Ethelinda's
body, as a small acquaintance of mine did last week, apparently
without a single pang? Never! A doll had a personality in those times,
and has yet, to a few simple backwoods souls, even in this day and
generation. Think of Charles Kingsley's song,--"I once had a sweet
little doll, dears." Can we imagine that as written about one of these
modern monstrosities with eyeglasses and corsets and vinaigrettes?
"I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world,
Her face was so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled;
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played on the heath one day,
And I sought for her more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.
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