CHILDREN’S PAGE. * * * * * LADY AGNES HAMILTON. BY MISS HENRIETTA MATSON, NASHVILLE. The teacher was passing from one to another of her pupils, taking their names. “Missie, Capitola, Viola, Colly, Prudy, Vic,” were some of the names already recorded, but here was a little mite of a girl, who gravely gave her name as Lady Agnes Hamilton. The teacher smiled, but kindly said, “Agnes, is it not?” “No, Lady Agnes,” persisted the child, in a decided manner, that accorded well with the name. The little lady is, perhaps, seven years of age, but not larger than an ordinary child of four. Her face is of a rich olive tint, and now the scarlet mingles with the brown, as she becomes confused and excited under the teacher’s questioning. Her eyes and hair are brown, the latter with a golden tinge, falling in short, crisp curls around her neck and face. The small, sensitive mouth, with its childish bloom and sweetness, tempts the teacher to stoop down and kiss her to atone for disturbing her with doubts in regard to her title and rank. Afterward, the teacher, becoming acquainted with the little Lady’s mother, asked if that was her real name. “Her sure nuff name, Miss,” was the reply. “Young Miss, she done names de chile. I was stayin’ dar on de ole place, after de war, da _pays_ me an’ my ole man, kase we’se free, an’ we stays wid ’em a long spell. My little gal was born dar, an’ young Miss Sue, she say she so little an frail her name should allus be Lady. We calls her Lady most times, but her sure nuff name is Lady Agnes Hamilton. Miss Sue done writ it down. Lady feel mighty bad kase de teacher reckon her name somefin else. Nary odder name Miss, an’ dats de truff.” Her right and title thus established, the teacher no longer questioned the sweet-faced little Lady, and indeed, soon came to believe that the child belonged to nature’s true nobility. She was always, in school and out, a veritable little lady. Mingling with the dusky children, who were her playmates, some of them dirty and ragged, while her own garments were always daintily neat she never manifested any conscious superiority, but was always sweet and gentle and happy, whether the rain fell or the sun shone. The secret of her wonderful sweetness and gentleness was not in that her name was Lady, nor because she was a lady, but because very soon after the school began, this little girl, only seven years old, gave her heart to Jesus, and became as truly one of his children, as though she had waited until she was twenty. Jesus, her Saviour, was a real presence to her—a wonderful Friend, ever near to help her, and she was careful in what she said and did, because she was anxious to please Him in everything.