nd led her through the
long picture-gallery. This last was an awful place to Lilly; she was
frightened at the array of old-time Blantyres,--fierce soldiers in
armor, grim judges in enormous wigs, and grand ladies in vast hoops and
stupendous head-dresses.

At lunch, Lady Blantyre had her little guest sit beside her, and
pressed her to eat of delicate wild-fowl and luscious fruit. But Lilly
was scared out of the little appetite she had, not by his lordship, who
sat opposite, but by the solemn footman who stood behind her chair.
After lunch, Lady Blantyre played and sung for her, and showed her
Bertha's books and toys.

At length she left her alone for a time, while she went to dress. When
she returned to the drawing-room she could not see the child anywhere;
but presently she heard a stifled sob behind the curtain of a window,
looking towards the gamekeeper's cottage. She went to Lilly, and put
her arms about her, saying, "What are you grieving about, my dear?"

"Let me gae hame! I maun gae hame!" (I must go home) said Lilly.

"So you shall, darling," replied the lady.

When Lady Blantyre returned from the cottage, she found Bertha in the
nursery, sitting on the lap of her kind nurse Margery.

"Well, has my little daughter learned content from this day's
experience?" said the lady, smiling.

"Yes, mamma," replied Bertha. "I find that one must belong to the
MacWillies, to do as they do, and like it; but somehow, I wish I had
been used to their ways from the first, that is, if you and papa had
been so too. It seems to me that God meant that all people should live
nearly alike, and only have houses just big enough to hold them
comfortably, like the nests of the birds; and that all children should
run among the hills, and play with the brooks. Did n't he?"

"Perhaps he did, my child."

As for Lilly, she spoke her mind that night, to her pet kitten, as she
hugged it in her arms before dropping to sleep. "Are ye na glad that
we are na fine ladies, eh, Winkie?"

A CHARADE.

My _first_ is fair, as when it graced
The bowers of Paradise;
It glows in Cashmere's vale, and climbs
Where snowy Alp-peaks rise:
It glads the peasant-woman's heart,
And the Queen's imperial eyes.

My _second_ is a sacred name,
A name of high renown,
By poets sung, yet common 'tis,
As daisies on the down,
Though ladies grand and royal dames
Have worn it as a crown.

When William's