"I see the stars, too, sometimes,' said the little child, and they look so kind and gentle; but oh! so far, far off.' "Then I told her of all the flowers that grew in the hedges and lanes; the roses and honeysuckles, and the graceful meadow-sweet. "I have seen flowers, too, in the shopwindows in the streets,' said she, ‘but I never touched one, though I should like it, they look so soft and bright.' "Poor little one! she ought to have lived among flowers and birds, for she was a tender, gentle-hearted little creature; and she was dying fast in the unwholesome air of that wretched den. Day after day the dull eyes grew more sunken, and the little lips more white; while the feeble feet tottered more and more, as she crept about the dirty pavement, or sat idly playing with a few oyster-shells, her only toys. Many a bitter blow and rough push did she receive from the wretched, wicked people she lived among, but she took it all very patiently. At last, one day, the cruel woman with whom she dwelt, and who grudged her every mouldy crust she gave her, scolded her fiercely for letting the few damp sticks, which she had put up for a fire, burn out; and, after giving her some rough shakes, she snatched me up angrily from the corner and flung me over the wall into the street. I heard one piteous cry of, 'Oh, my Comfort! my poor little Comfort! Don't take it away from me.' And that was the last I knew of my dear little childfriend; except that, after I was cast out of the alley, I fell on the ledge of a wall in the outer street, and I soon after saw a little, roughly knocked-up coffin of bare boards, carried out on the parish bier, and trotted off to the buryingground-alone-but not more lonely than the child had been in her sorrowful, neglected, short life. There was no pall or covering over the miserable coffin, but I shed down two or three withered leaves and buds upon it. I could not regret her; for did I not know that the stunted, withered little heart, that had never known a joy or a pleasure, was now expanding in the brighter light of another sun? "In fact, I have only one regret," continued the Daisy, with tears in her pink eyes; “I am only grieved that perverse fate brought me here, and that I was not permitted to grow and blossom over her grave. "Dear friend," said the Lark, "there are many, many such perishing little ones in our great towns-children without a play-ground, without toys, without flowers; and our only consolation, insufficient as it is, is, that though man neglects and despises them, the great Father of all loves and cares for them, and Heaven has in store for them the joys and blessings they were denied here!" "And this is the end of my story," said the Daisy. LITTLE PRINCESS MARJORIE. HERE was a Queen in the West countrie, She had one little daughter, fair to see; Her eyes were like stars, and her locks of gold, In waving curls, to her small feet rolled. Fair, fair, passing fair, With her locks of golden hair, The Queen she combed them, at morn and eve, And thick in the tresses white pearls did weave; She plaited red gold, she twined-in the gem, Till the little head grew weary of them. Fair, fair, passing fair, Those heavy braids of jewelled hair, They clad her fine, in satin and silk, Red as the ruby, and white as the milk, And each tress gleamed brightly as down it rolled. With robe, and crown, and plaited hair, She looked at the daisies that bloomed on thelea,— With her pensive, childish air, Was this little Marjorie! This tender Princess grew sick and thin, Her footsteps faltered, she hung down her head, With those clouds of golden hair, Was little Princess Marjorie! |