t prizes in the end are meant to lead up to it, but
the way is long between them. And both one and the other are good in so
far as they lead us on to the highest judgment that is day by day passed
on our work. When prizes, and even the honour of well-deserved praise,
fail to attract, the thought of God the witness of our efforts, and of
the value in His sight of striving which is never destined to meet with
success, is a support that keeps up endurance, and seals with an evident
mark of privilege the lives of many who have made those dutiful efforts
not for themselves but in the sight of God.

The subject of play has to be considered from two points of view, that
of the children and ours. Theirs is concerned chiefly with the present
and ours with the future, far although we do not want every play-hour to
be haunted with a spectral presence that speaks of improvement and
advancement, yet we cannot lose sight of the fact that every hour of
play is telling on the future, deepening the mark of the character,
strengthening the habits, and guiding the lines of after life into this
or that channel.

Looking at it from this point of view of the future, there seems to be
something radically wrong at present with the play provided for children
of nursery age. In a very few years we shall surely look back and wonder
how we could have endured, for the children, the perverse reign of the
Golliwog dynasty and the despotism of Teddy-bears. More than that, it is
pitiful to hear of nurseries for Catholic children sometimes without
shrine or altar or picture of the Mother of God, and with one of these
monsters on every chair. Something even deeper than the artistic sense
must revolt before long against this barbarous rule. The Teddy-bear, if
he has anything to impart, suggests his own methods of life and defence,
and the Golliwog, far worse--limp, hideous, without one characteristic
grace, or spark of humour--suggests the last extremity of what is
embodied in the expression "letting oneself go." And these things are
loved! Pity the beautiful soul of the child, made for beautiful things.
_II y a toujours en nous quelque chose qui veut ramper_, said Pere de
Ravignan, and to this the Golliwog makes strong appeal. It is only too
easy to _let go_, and the Golliwog playfellow says that it is quite
right to do so--he does it himself. It takes a great deal to make him
able to sit up at all--only in the most comfortable chair can it be
accomplis