es was Prince Charles Edward, the Young
Pretender, who had been staying in London under the name of Mr. Brown,
and had managed to procure admission to the scene of his rival's
triumph. George the Fourth's coronation was a splendid ceremony; but the
portly monarch found it very exhausting, and whilst the peers were doing
homage in succession, he used up pocket-handkerchiefs innumerable in
wiping his streaming face, handing them when done with to the Archbishop
of Canterbury. His unfortunate Queen, Caroline, had vainly tried to be
present at the ceremony, but was repulsed at each of the doors she
attempted to enter, and had to drive away discomfited. William IV., to
please the political reformers of the period, wanted to dispense with a
coronation altogether, and the procession and banquet _were_ omitted.
Our present gracious Queen was crowned in the Abbey, in the flower of
her youth, in June, 1838, and the ancient building was crowded with all
that was eminent in the land as the crown was placed upon the girlish
head of the illustrious lady who for nearly half a century has worn it
so faithfully and so well.

THE LITTLE FLOWERS' WISH.

Some daisies grew in a green piece of turf just outside the palings of a
garden. The grass all round them was soft and fine; they had plenty of
room to grow in, and they were near enough to the road to see all that
went by. Would you not have thought they were contented?

Little yellow butterflies came and told them stories, little shadowy
clouds went scampering over the grass-plot, the pleasant warm sun shone
down on their little round faces. And yet they were unhappy with all
this.

Through a crack in the palings they had seen into the garden, and it
made them all long to be there. Flowers of different kinds grew happily
in the garden-beds. Some of them had sticks to lean against and some
were trained against the wall.

"Oh, what care is taken of them!" thought the foolish little daisies.

Every day the gardener came and watered these choice flowers. And a
stately lady paced the garden walks, and noticed if the flowers grew or
faded.

"Oh, if only we could get into the garden!" sighed the daisies, ruffling
all their little leaves; "oh, how much happier we should be if we were
only growing in there!"

Just then there came running out of the garden a little child with
golden hair. Whether he heard what the daisies said I do not know, but
it almost seemed as if he did.