The delight which a little girl sometimes experiences in getting
hold of a doll that belonged to her mother when she was a little
girl--a quaint, china-headed and china-haired little creature,
with low neck and short sleeves and very full ruffled skirt--is
a tame thing when compared with the feelings that any girl must
experience over a doll now in the British Museum. This doll is
almost three thousand years old.
When some archeologists were exploring an ancient Egyptian royal
tomb they came upon a sarcophagus containing the mummy of a
little princess seven years old. She was drest and interred in
a manner befitting her rank, and in her arms was found a little
wooden doll.
The inscription gave the name, rank and age of the little girl
and the date of her death, but it said nothing about the quaint
little wooden Egyptian doll. This, however, told its own story.
It was so tightly clasped in the arms of the mummy that it was
evident that the child had died with her beloved doll in her
arms.
The simple pathos of this story has touched many hearts after
thousands of years. The doll occupies a place in a glass case in
the British Museum, and there a great many children have gone to
look at it.--_Youth’s Companion._
(811)
=Dollar, His First=--See _Money, Earning_.