them to swell the ranks of evil livers—to
perish? This is not the will of our Heavenly
Father; and must not we, who so often pray
'Thy will be done,' do what we can to rescue
them? Within a month of the date of
this letter," the second part of the first
circular goes on to say, "a very suitable
little house, close to my father's gate, became
vacant, and was secured for the Children's
Home. A Christian woman offered her services
as matron, and on the first Sunday in Lent I
brought home two children, one twelve years
old, from Devonshire farm service; one fourteen
years old, from a court in Holborn, both
sad cases, for which this special Home was
needed. A third, an orphan aged fifteen, was
sent here as a temporary inmate, having been
turned away in consequence of the gross misconduct
of one in the rank of her employers. She
quickly got another situation, and I have now
six children" (this was February, '65, it must be
remembered; at this present date, August, '68,
there are twenty); "but one of them, aged twelve,
is in King's College Hospital, poor little child!
She was left upon the streets of London at six
years old, her father forsaking her after her
mother's death, and she had lived almost entirely
upon the refuse picked up in the streets; so that
the diseased state of her body was pitiable. She
came to me from Newport Market Refuge.
Though she had lived in the midst of evil, she
is a dear little thing, and we all wish to have
her back again as quickly as possible. These first
cases were very urgent ones, so that I could
not delay admitting them till the house was
repaired and adapted to its new use. As soon
as the alterations are completed we shall, I
hope, receive sixteen or eighteen, and we shall
have the power of spreading into adjoining
cottages, if we are enabled to do so."

Another letter, dated Lent, '66, says: "I
cannot tell to the public the story of my poor
children's sad early lives. I believe I should
be almost overwhelmed with help if the awful
need could be fully realised. My youngest
child is only eight years old. There are
several other children under nine years old
pressing for admission—must they be left as
a prey? I believe this is the only Home
open to such very little ones of this class.
All the penitentiaries send, or try to send,
children—Clewer, Wantage, Ditchingham,
East Grinstead, and St. George's, all beg
me to receive poor little ones too young for
their houses. Very painfully has the pressure
for admission proved the necessity for such a
shelter. Applications are made from all parts
of England, and many are of necessity rejected
for lack of space and funds."

This home, so pressingly needed, and so
lovingly begun, has hitherto been supported
rather by chance scraps than by any settled run
of subscriptions. The coal merchant gave two
tons of coals; a sugar-baker a constant supply
of treacle; a grocer sent them tea; and rice,
in the respective quantities of a whole bag, a
half bag, and a quarter bag came from different
donors. A dying woman in the lady's brother's
parish begged her husband to make a supply of
three-legged stools, which she hid under her
bed, for the Leytonstone Home; and the Lady,
in her circular, says: "Most useful they have
been, serving, in our early days, as seats, tables,
washstands, &c." This man still continues to
send them from time to time things which his
wife, before her death, told him they would
want. Beds and chairs, crockery and clothing,
with many money gifts, also came in. The
village shop sent them a large contribution of
matches, blacklead, &c.; the shoemaker sent
a bundle of boots and shoes; the sadler,
brushes, and such like articles of his trade, in
memory of his eldest girl, once in the Lady's
service, and now "sleeping in our churchyard."
The baker gave them a flour bin and a cat to
drive away the mice; the ironmonger a kitchen
fender; some Spanish fowls and bees were
sent: all of which gifts were of the utmost value,
for the children who go to the Home are of such
an age, and for the most part have lived a life
of such semi-starvation, that they require
abundant food and warm clothing, and the
Lady's own small resources were quite
exhausted in fitting up the laundry, the real
"workshop" of the establishment.

In the laundry, which was anciently a stable
—for the Lady is one of those capable shifty
people who can make use of anything and
transfer functions with the skill of a magician—
six or eight young ones, with their teacher,
wash by machinery between sixty and a
hundred dozen articles, and three or four dozen
shirts, in the week; and I can answer for the
work being done quite as well as if all the
little laundry-maids were full-grown women;
and perhaps even a little better; young
creatures having naturally an immense pride in
doing the work of men and women as well as
their elders, consequently taking more pains.
This laundry work is "capital work for them,"
says the Lady, "because it must be done
heartily, and thoroughly, and quickly." More
than half the washing is for themselves, and so
unpaid; the rest is paid for, and provides
firing and light for the whole family. They
take in needlework also, which helps in the
clothing; and some of the inmates provide a
little towards their own support; but what is
provided does not average a shilling a week for
each.

There are now twenty children, four invalids,
and four superintendents in this Home.
The invalids are taken, not only to do them
good by careful nursing and fresh air, but also
for the benefit it is to the children to have
sick folk about, to whom they may be useful,
and for whom they must be gentle, thoughtful,
and self-sacrificing. Then there is a dear old-
fashioned woman to "grump" at them—kind,
and generous, and good, but with just those
useful grumpy ways that keep children straight
without too much mental hardship—an invaluable
part of the training of children, and
specially valuable in a home made up of love