fy
the inspector.'

The wretched creature was struck dumb. Falconer resumed.

'You're the sort of man that ought to be kept to your pound of filthy
flesh. I know what I say; and I'll do it. The law costs me nothing. You
won't find it so.'

The undertaker sold the houses, and no longer in that quarter killed the
people he wanted to bury.

I give this as a specimen of the kind of thing Falconer did. But he took
none of the business part in his own hands, on the same principle on
which Paul the Apostle said it was unmeet for him to leave the preaching
of the word in order to serve tables--not that the thing was beneath
him, but that it was not his work so long as he could be doing more
important service still.

De Fleuri was one of his chief supports. The whole nature of the man
mellowed under the sun of Falconer, and over the work that Falconer
gave him to do. His daughter recovered, and devoted herself to the same
labour that had rescued her. Miss St. John was her superior. By degrees,
without any laws or regulations, a little company was gathered, not of
ladies and gentlemen, but of men and women, who aided each, other, and
without once meeting as a whole, laboured not the less as one body in
the work of the Lord, bound in one by bonds that had nothing to do with
cobweb committee meetings or public dinners, chairmen or wine-flushed
subscriptions. They worked like the leaven of which the Lord spoke.

But De Fleuri, like almost every one in the community I believe, had his
own private schemes subserving the general good. He knew the best men of
his own class and his own trade, and with them his superior intellectual
gifts gave him influence. To them he told the story of Falconer's
behaviour to him, of Falconer's own need, and of his hungry-hearted
search. An enthusiasm of help seized upon the men. To aid your superior
is such a rousing gladness!--Was anything of this in St. Paul's mind
when he spoke of our being fellow-workers with God? I only put the
question.--Each one of these had his own trustworthy acquaintances, or
neighbours, rather--for like finds out like all the world through, as
well as over--and to them he told the story of Falconer and his father,
so that in all that region of London it became known that the man who
loved the poor was himself needy, and looked to the poor for their help.
Without them he could not be made perfect.

Some of my readers may be inclined to say that it was dishonourable in