“Elgitha,” said Mark, gravely, “your father is one of God’s saints, and of such as he is the kingdom of heaven. Do not grudge him to the work; his reward is ready. But why would you have me leave Rosenhurst? Do you think sin and sorrow are not as frequent elsewhere?” “Perhaps; but at any rate other places cannot be as stupid.” “And yet, child, if you go away, before a year is out you will be looking back to these stupid days with fond regret, and will remember nothing of Rosenhurst but its roses and lilies.” “I’d wager you something to the contrary, only I know you wouldn’t bet; but here we are home again. Don’t open the gate, please; I’m going round at the back. Mother’ll be in an awful fume if she sees this frock; Mary’ll get it cleaned for me. Here, Lina, take Aunt Margaret this trophy,” holding out a dainty specimen of the fly-trap, snugly packed in moss. “Nay, dear, that is the prettiest piece of all; take it to Aunt Elgitha.” “Oh, she wouldn’t care for it; she’d forget to put it in water, and so should I. Aunt Margaret will love it, and know just what it wants, and keep it alive for weeks, and paint it and learn it by heart. Good-bye for the present; I suppose you will be coming in for a little music by-and-by?” “That is as the superior powers may have determined,” said Mark, holding the gate for her to enter, and so the expedition ended. (_To be continued._) FOOTNOTES: [1] Eveline would be botanically more correct if she called the beautiful English plant “sundew.” It is of the same order as the foreign “Venus’s fly-trap,” and also attracts and kills small flies. VARIETIES. O NANNY, WILT THOU GANG WI’ ME? Some time ago, in THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER, there appeared an interesting sketch of the “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,” with some facts of the life of Bishop Percy. In the account given, no mention is made of the once popular ballad, “O Nanny, wilt thou gang wi’ me?” or the event that gave rise to its production. The circumstances, however, were of such an unusual character, that they will certainly bear telling once more. It was in 1771, about six years after the publication of the “Reliques,” and at the very height of Percy’s literary fame, that Mrs. Percy was summoned to the Court of George III. and appointed nurse to the infant Prince Edward, afterwards Duke of Kent, and ultimately the father of our present good and most gracious sovereign Queen Victoria. Mrs. Percy is said to have been a very amiable and excellent woman. Miss M. L. Hawkins, in writing of the occurrence, says: “His Royal Highness Prince Edward’s temper, as a private gentleman, did not discredit his nurse, for his humanity was conspicuous.” It was when Mrs. Percy had fulfilled the duties of her high position as personal attendant to the young prince, and on her return to the quiet Northamptonshire vicarage of Easton Mandit, that Dr. Percy greeted his long absent wife with the following verses:—