HER BENNY.
CHAPTER I.
BROTHER AND SISTER.
Perhaps while in our glowing grate
The cheerful blaze is rising higher,
There's some one sitting desolate
Without a spark of fire.
Oh, what are we, that God hath blessed
Our winter homes and made them glad,
While other hearts ore sore distressed,
While other homes are sad?
t was getting dark, though the Town Hall clock had only just struck four. But a fog had hung all over Liverpool since morning, and everything was as damp and dismal as it well could be; and now, as evening came on, the fog had settled into a downright drizzle, converting the streets into what seemed to Nelly Bates (who was crouched in the shadow of St. George's Church) to be endless puddles.
