You travel on up the bill, something pensive, and knock at the
door of the house on the top. 

A woman, comely with the inevitable comeliness of motherhood,
opens to you.  And nestling in her arms is a little boy with golden
hair and happy face, like one of Correggio's cherubs. 

You ask the child his name.  He kicks and crows, and looks up at
his mother; and in the end lisps roguishly, as if it was the merriest
joke in all this merry world, "Adum Mataddum." 

End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Bob Son of Battle, by Alfred Ollivant