But Jamie stood his ground, answering, "My mither says you once made a
big mon alive after he had been dead four days. Rab is only a sma'
pony, and he's been dead but a wee bit while; so it's na a hard job for
you. Dinna say you will na do it."

"What _can_ the little lad mean, Mrs. Grey?" asked Lord Dundale,
utterly bewildered.

"I dinna ken (do not know), my lord," she replied, "unless, Heaven save
us! he takes you for the Lord of lords. I didna think the bairn was so
heathenish and so daft (foolish). You maun forgie (must forgive) the
poor child."

Lord Dundale dismounted, and, taking the little fellow by the hand, by
a few simple questions, soon found that this was indeed Jamie's strange
delusion.

"My poor little laddie," he said, "you are wofully mistaken. I cannot
bring your dear old pony back to life. You can never play with him, or
feed him, or ride him among the heather or along the burnside again.
Rab's work is done, and it is time he should rest. But, Jamie, I can
give you another pony in his place, one that I hope may serve your good
mother as well as Rab, and that you and Effie must love for my sake.
And now good by. I hope Jamie will yet know well the Lord most great
and good and loving, the only true Lord of life and death."

Taking a kindly leave of Mrs. Grey, the young Earl then rode on, but in
the course of the day the groom of the Castle galloped down to the
widow's cottage, leading the new pony, a handsome, sturdy little
animal, and so gentle and docile that not only Jamie but timid little
Effie could ride him with safety; and even the baby, when set on his
back, played with his mane and answered his whinny with a triumphant
crow.

So Jamie's faith, though mistaken, was rewarded; and his innocent,
fervent little prayer was answered, not by a Divine miracle, but by a
generous human heart, which also found its reward in proving the truth
of the Master's words,--"It is more blessed to give than to receive."

A CHARADE.

If my studious Lillian,
This charade will careful scan,
With knit brow and red lips pursed,
She will then unconscious show
To all such as care to know
An example of my _first_.

My _second_ is what divine truths are,
And Alpine heights that gleam afar,
And hills of Scottish heather;
And what are _not_ all human blisses,
The little loves of little misses,
Winds, waves, and April weather.

If from my _second_ some sad