"Pray how came you here ?" inquired the Lark, quite rejoiced to have a friendly chat.

"I have travelled a long way," answered the Daisy, and perhaps the history of some of my wanderings will interest you."

The Lark, quite delighted, eagerly begged her to proceed; and settled herself down cosily over her eggs to listen to the story.

The

My last home," said the Daisy, "was in a dark corner, in a small close alley, in a great town. I can hardly describe, and you would scarcely credit, the horrible state of the place. The dark dirty houses soared up high and black, as if trying for a glimpse of the blue sky, which their inhabitants never obtained there. pavement below was full of holes, which contained dark pools of filthy liquid, the washings from sooty roofs, and still dirtier floors. Every window was glazed with a film of dust and smoke, till the original glass, cracked and broken as it was, could scarcely be seen. The insides of these miserable dens must have matched their outer appearance; but of these I only heard. I a little scrap of earth,

grew

in a

about the size of an ant's nest, that chanced to be in one corner: and I tried to keep my green leaves and little flower-buds as clean as I could. But, after all, what could they be but dingy stunted things, fed on such wretched fare, and washed only in such polluted streams.

"One day a little child crawled out of one of the dens near, for I cannot call them homes. She was like one of my own poor little buds; for the childish beauty, that would have brightened her little face in a more wholesome atmosphere, was here withered and dwarfed to precocious age. Her blue eyes looked unnaturally large from the thin face, where every bone almost was sharply defined under the sallow unhealthy skin.

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Pretty little thing,' she muttered to herself, when she saw me, what are you? a feather of a white bird, or a flake of snow ?'

"I am a friend, little one,' I answered softly;

a poor one it is true, and not able to help you. But I can tell you stories, and whisper pleasant things to you.'

"Then her poor pale blue eyes were as near

being bright as they could be, and she clapped her small bony hands.

"Dear little thing,' she said, 'I don't know your name, or what you are, so I shall call you my Comfort. I heard mother say once before she died, that she had one "Great Comfort,' and it seemed to make her so happy, it must have been something nice. So I shall call you my Little Comfort,' and come and see you every day.'

"And the tiny creature kept her promise; and crawled out day after day to the low corner where I grew. And every bit of cheer and consolation that I could think of, did I pour, as well as I could, into the little withered heart. I murmured stories of the pleasant green fields, where the young lambs lie so cosily nestled up by the side of the old sheep, and the buttercups spread a sheet of gold for the sleek cows to feed And I tried to recollect some of the sayings of one of your family, a Lark I used to know once, who had flown up into the clear blue sky, and seen the stars shining so brightly.

on.