Stories of Many Lands Part 3

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ruth]

From that old home he was carried forth to be laid by the side of his dear old wife; but from that lonely cottage little Ruth was led weeping, yet grateful, to her new home by the Rector and his wife, henceforth to be to them a dear and cherished child. Few were the tears she shed in that beautiful home, and tenderly were they wiped away; and if the Lord ever spoke to her again in her peaceful little chamber, through the darkness, it was in "the still, small voice" of blessing, love, and comfort.

CHRISTMAS,--A MOTHER'S EXCUSE.

It comes again, the blessed day, Made glorious by the Saviour's birth, When faintly in a manger dawned The light of G.o.d which fills the earth

On this sweet morn, in years gone by, Around one happy hearth we came, And wished each other joy and peace, Embracing in the dear Lord's name.

Now o'er a weary, wintry waste, My heart a loving pilgrim wends Her pious way, this holy time, To greet you, O beloved friends!

Fondly I long to take my place Beside your hearth, its joy to share,-- To sun me in the summer smiles Of the dear faces gathered there.

But baby eyes upraised to mine, And baby fingers on my breast, Steep all my soul in sweet content,-- Charm even _such_ longings into rest.

Yet, dear ones, let my name be breathed Kindly around the Christmas tree, And my soul's presence greet, as oft In Christmas times ye 've greeted me.

No unadorned and humble guest Comes that fond soul this blessed even She bears a jewel on her breast That radiates the light of heaven.

A rose, that breathes of Paradise, Just budded from the life divine, A little, tender, smiling babe, As yet more G.o.d's and heaven's than mine.

Born in the Saviour's hallowed month, A blessed Christ-child may she be, A little maiden of the Lord, Room for _her_ by the Christmas tree!

ABOUT SOME SCOTTISH CHILDREN.

CASTLE AND COTTAGE.

It would seem that little Bertha Blantyre had everything that her heart could wish. She was an only daughter, and a pretty, blooming, petted darling. Her father was a rich lord, and, what was better, a good and kind-hearted man. Her mother was a n.o.ble lady, and, what was more, a gentle and loving woman, and even little Bertha had from her cradle the t.i.tle of "Honorable," which is as much as our great Congressmen can boast. Yet I am sorry to say, this little lady was not always as happy and grateful as she should have been, but was sometimes sadly discontented, believing that other children were far happier than she.

All such little girls as had brothers and sisters to play with them, and run about with them in the woods and over the moors, she envied bitterly, even though they were the children of poor peasants,--never thinking it possible that they might be envying her at the same time.

Lord Blantyre resided princ.i.p.ally at Blantyre Castle, on a n.o.ble estate, among the heathery hills of Scotland. The Castle was very ancient, with towers, and turrets, and a ma.s.sive gateway, but it had many modern additions which beautified it, and gave it a cheerful, almost home-like look. Through the old moat there slowly ran a bright, clear stream, in which grew hosts of water-lilies, and other aquatic plants. Beyond this were soft, green, close-shaven lawns and shrubberies, and gardens full of fountains and statues and fairy-like bowers; the stables, full of beautiful horses and ponies; the kennels, where a pack of n.o.ble stag-hounds was kept; the dairy, the poultry-yard, and the pretty little houses of the gold and silver pheasants. Around all was a great wooded park, filled with fleet spotted deer.

In this park Bertha often walked with her mother, or was whirled along in a small open phaeton, drawn by two lovely white ponies, which Lady Blantyre herself drove.

In the wildest and most remote part of the park lived the gamekeeper, who, with his wife, had been born and bred on the estate, and from childhood had been in the service of the n.o.ble family. Lady Blantyre never pa.s.sed the cottage of Robert MacWillie in her drives without stopping to inquire after the health of his wife, who had once been her maid, and of their fine brood of little ones. During these visits Bertha became acquainted with the young foresters, and as she was of a simple and amiable disposition, and not a bit haughty or conceited, she liked them all heartily. But she especially took to a little girl about her own age, named Lilly, and a boy a year or two older, called Hughie.

One day as Lady Blantyre and Bertha were driving along the sh.o.r.e of a miniature loch or pond, near Robert MacWillie's cottage, they saw Hughie and Lilly playing in a burn, or brook, which emptied into the little loch. Hughie was constructing a dam, with stones and turf and heather-branches cemented with clay, and Lilly was sailing a tiny boat, loaded with pebbles and flowers. Both were barefoot, and plas.h.i.+ng fearlessly in the burn. Lady Blantyre checked her ponies, and after watching the children awhile, called them to the side of her phaeton.

Hughie took off his Glengary cap, and held it in his hand, and Lilly was about to pull from her head a wild-looking wreath of daisies and purple heather-blooms, when Bertha exclaimed, "Don't take it off! it is so pretty; who made it?"

"Brother Hughie," answered Lilly, blus.h.i.+ng.

"How good he must be! Do you like playing and wading in the water and picking wild-flowers?"

"Yes," said Lilly, looking down, and drawing figures in the sand with her rosy little toes. "Hughie is gude. I like playing wi' the burn, and flowers are bonny wee things"; then, looking up timidly, she offered to her friend a bunch of water-lilies, which Hughie had waded far out into the pond up to his short kilt to obtain.

"Thank you," said Bertha. "O how sweet they are, a thousand times sweeter than those that grow in the moat, are n't they, mamma?"

Lady Blantyre smiled, for there was really no difference, the lilies at the Castle having been brought from this very pond.

"How long have you been at your great work there?" she asked of Hughie.

"For maist a week, my Lady; but for the last twa days Domine MacGregor has been down wi' an ill turn, and I hae (have) lost na time at schule (school), so I hae got on weel wi' it. It will soon be done noo."

"And what do you intend to do with it when it is finished?" asked the lady.

"I canna say, but I think we 'll play flood-time wi' it."

"What is that?"

"Your ladys.h.i.+p sees that wee-bit island; weel, we'll put on it some doggies and a cat."

"Not my wee puss, Winkie?" cried Lilly in alarm.

"No, auld black Tammy will do, and a chicken or twa, and we 'll watch the water rise and rise, till the puir creatures huddle togither and greet and cackle and howl, then I 'll loup (leap) intil the burn, and one after anither rescue them a'."

"O, how grand that would be!" exclaimed little Bertha, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with excitement.

"Rather cruel sport," said Lady Blantyre, shaking her head, yet smiling in spite of herself.

"Is it?" said Hughie, his countenance falling, "then I 'll no do it. I 'll but drive a' the duckies and fulish geese down here, and see them gae quacking and skirling over the dam. I hope _they'll_ no object to the sport."

"Probably not," said her ladys.h.i.+p, pleasantly.

"O mamma," said Bertha, looking up wistfully into her face, "how I should love to play so with water and pebbles, and little boats, and ducks and geese, and dams, all day long! How happy they must be!"

"Perhaps little Lilly thinks it would be a very happy thing to be in your place, my daughter," said Lady Blantyre.

"_Do_ you think so?" asked Bertha, wonderingly.

"Ay," answered Lilly, in a low, almost awestruck tone, "I think that to be Miss Bertha, and bide in a braw (fine) Castle, wad be next to being an angel, or a bonnie fairy princess."

All laughed at this, but on the way home Bertha was very thoughtful and sad. Every time she spoke, it was to bewail her hard lot in being allowed to take the air only in walks with her governess, or drives with her mamma, in being obliged to wear fine clothes, to learn music and dancing, "and other tiresome things," and never being free to run wild on the hills and heaths, wade in the ponds, and plash in the burns, like the little Macw.i.l.l.i.e.s.

Her mother tried to show her that, as her station was different from theirs, her education and habits should be different, and that she had a great deal to be thankful for, and might be very happy, if she would.

"Well, I think I ought at least to have a little brother to play with me. I think G.o.d might have given me _that_, and kept back some of the other things."

At this little burst of petulance, Lady Blantyre sighed and was silent for some moments. Then she said: "Would my little daughter like to try living at the cottage of the Macw.i.l.l.i.e.s for a day or two, just like one of their own?"

"O yes, mamma, and play with Lilly and Hughie?"