would be improved when she saw them next, she then proceeded to another cottage. I hope it is not unkind in me to say that she certainly did make, in this, as in everything else, a show that was not conciliatory, of doing charity by wholesale, and of dealing in it to a large extent.
She supposed that we were following her ; but as soon as the space was left clear, we approached the woman sitting by the fire, to ask if the baby were ill.
She only looked at it as it lay on her lap. We had observed before, that when she looked at it she covered her discolored eye with her hand, as though she wished to separate any association with noise and violence and ill-treatment, from the poor little child.
Ada, whose gentle heart was moved by its appearance, bent down to touch its little face. As she did so, I saw what happened and drew her back. The child died.
“Esther !” cried Ada, sinking on her knees beside it. “Look here ! O Esther, my love, the little thing ! The suffering, quiet, pretty little thing ! I am so sorry for it. I am so sorry for the mother. I never saw a sight so pitiful as this before ! O baby, baby !”
Such compassion, such gentleness, as that with which she bent down weeping, and put her hand upon the mother′s, might have softened any mother′s heart that ever beat. The woman at first gazed at her in astonishment, and then burst into tears.
Presently I took the light burden from her lap ; did what I could to make the baby′s rest the prettier and gentler ; laid it on a shelf, and covered it with my own handkerchief. We tried to comfort the mother, and we whispered to her what Our Saviour said of children. She answered nothing, but sat weeping—weeping very much.
When I turned, I found that the young man had taken out the dog, and was standing at the door looking in upon us ; with dry eyes, but quiet. The girl was quiet too, and sat in a corner looking on the ground. The man had risen. He still smoked his pipe with an air of defiance, but he was silent.
An ugly woman, very poorly clothed, hurried in while I was glancing at them, and coming straight up to the mother, said, “Jenny ! Jenny !” The mother rose on being so addressed, and fell upon the woman′s neck.
She also had upon her face and arms the marks of ill-usage. She had no kind of grace about her, but the grace of sympathy ; but when she condoled with the woman, and her own tears fell, she wanted no beauty. I say condoled, but her only words were “Jenny ! Jenny !” All the rest was in the tone in which she said them.
I thought it very touching to see these two women, coarse and shabby and beaten, so united ; to see what they could be to one another ; to see how they felt for one another ; how the heart of each to each was softened by the hard trials of their lives. I think the best side of such people is almost hidden from us. What the poor are to the poor is little known, excepting to themselves and God.
We felt it better to withdraw and leave them uninterrupted. We stole out quietly, and without notice from any one except the man. He was leaning against the wall near the door ; and finding that there was scarcely room for us to pass, went out before us. He seemed to want to hide
