Mr. Stringer had been sent for out, and was
not come back; and when they ran screeching
and screaming to the shop, crying a child was
burnt in the court hard by, and Mr. Stringer
was wanted, as there was no one to go but a
little mite of a shop-boy—for Mr. Stringer had
but just begun business—what does she do,
but catches up a bottle of stuff for burns, claps
her bonnet over her pretty white rose, throws
her shawl on, and, dressed in her beautiful new
wedding-gown, comes to this horrid den of
dirt and wickedness. She did me up as best
she could, and then seeing my poor father
crying too, and all the people standing round,
and yet not a word to comfort him, she said,
very gently and kindly, to him,

"' Pray don't grieve so: she will be better
by-and-by, poor dear. Don't groan so badly,
poor child! You are very sorry for her, poor
man—but don't take on so.'

"But the more she spoke in this kind way,
all the more he cried, till at last he seemed as
if he could contain himself no longer, and he
groaned, and almost roared out.

"' Are you the father?' said the young lady.
' Where is the mother?'

"' Oh! here—here—here—my precious
child, my sweet baby!' cried my poor mother
—and then went on, ' It was all of you—you
big brute—you—you pushed your own baby
into the red-hot flames, as you were a-trying
to get at me!—yes, my baby—my poor—'

"' Don't speak so loud, good woman,' said
the young lady, gently. ' Lay the child upon
the bed,' turning round—' Bless me!—why,
there is not a bed!'

"' We are very poor people, ma'am,' a
woman began; ' not a penny to bless ourselves
with. If you'd please to—'"

"I remember my father's voice to this day—

"' Silence!' he called out, in such a passion,
' would you beg money from the lady to spend
in more gin? Give 'em nothing, ma'am—
give none of us nothing—only tell me what's
to be done to save the poor little thing's
life.'

"She hesitated, turned, and looked round
the miserable apartment. Too true, there
was not an apology for a bed; there was not
even clean straw.

"' Take her up in your arms,' said she to
my father, 'and follow me.' And she stooped
and picked up her bonnet, and gathered her
great shawl round her, and stepped out into
the rainy, sleety, windy night; and my father
—for some poor creature had lent an old shawl
to throw over me—took me and carried me
after her: and a turn of the alley which led
into the court, brought us out into the street,
where the apothecary's shop stood. I was
carried through, and up two pair of stairs, and
into a little mite of a room—but all so clean
and nice—and laid, oh! in such a delicious bed
—and oh! it felt so comfortable—it soothed
me, like—and I fell fast asleep."

The two girls were silent for some time.
Ella spoke first.

"What a good woman!" was the remark she
made; "but was she only an apothecary's wife,'
she went on; " and was her name Stringer?
What a horrid ugly name! Are you sure it
was Stringer?"

"Yes, Miss—Stringer and Bullem—that
was the name over the shop-door."

"What! did they keep a shop?"

"To be sure they did."

"How long did you stay there?"

"I never went away no more, Miss. When
I got better, the lady began to talk to me.
I was a little mite of a thing, but I was
quick enough. She found what bad ways I
was bringing up in; that I had never had
once heard of Our Saviour—not even of my
Maker—far from ever hearing of the Bible—
or having it read, or being taught to pray,
or—"

The two young girls looked at each other,
but said nothing. Matty, in broken and
interrupted sentences, went on:

"So she kept me; for she could not bear to
send me back to that pit of iniquity in which
she had found me. And as I lay in my bed,
one day, and they thought I was asleep, I
heard her arguing the point with her young
husband—

"' Why, child, you cannot pretend to adopt
all the poor neglected children in this bad
town?'  he said.

"' Oh no! I know one can do little—little
enough: it is but one drop of water in the
vast ocean—only one little, little drop; but
the oyster took it into its shell, and it became
a pearl. Let me keep this poor little one.
I don't mean to be foolish—indeed, I don't—
I will only clothe her, and feed her, and send
her to the charity school: indeed, they will
half clothe her there. Do—do, dear John,—
she is such a miserable object! What is she
to do ? Let her be taught her duty—let her
not be a poor ruined wretch, body and soul
at once.'

"The young lady would have moved a stone
with her talking. Her husband was not very
persuadable; he was not like her. He was
rather a cold-hearted, selfish young man, but he
couldn't refuse her; and so, when I got better,
I was sent to one of the great charity schools
in the city, where I learned a deal; but my
sweet Mrs. Stringer took a pleasure in teaching
me herself, and so I learned a deal more."

Enough of Matty's tale.

Mrs. Stringer, when she devoted such
means as she could command to the rescue
of one poor child from the misery in which
she was living, and raised her from
deplorable ignorance, as regarded all higher
things, to a knowledge of the supreme and
only real good, little thought how extensive
her good deed would prove; and that in
providing for the religious and moral education
of this wretched child, she was preparing
the means of a religious education, imperfect,
yet still in some sort a sound religious education,
for two children of wealth and luxury,