-indulgent civilization goads all classes to live
beyond their incomes, and tempts them not to include the duty of
almsgiving in the expenditure of those incomes, it is well to remove a
due proportion of what one has beyond the reach of the ever-growing
monster of extravagance; and, being decided upon in an unbiased and
calm moment, it is the less likely to be too much for one's domestic
claims, or too little for one's religious duty. It frees one for ever
from that grudging and often comical spasm of meanness which attacks
so many even wealthy people when they are asked to give, because,
among all the large "expenses" to which their goods are willingly made
liable, the expense of giving alms of those goods has never been
fairly counted as an item not less needful, not less imperative, not
less to be felt as a deduction from the remainder, not less life-long
and daily, than the expenses of rent, and dress, and dinner-parties.

We had, as I say, no knowledge of political economy, and it must be
confessed that the objects of our charity were on more than one
occasion most unworthy.

"Oh, Regie, dear," Polly cried one day, rushing up to me as she
returned from a walk (I had a cold, and was in the nursery), "there is
such a poor, poor man at the corner of ---- Street. I do think we ought
to give him all that's left in the box. He's quite blind, and he reads
out of a book with such queer letters. It's one of the Gospels, he
says; so he must be very good, for he reads it all day long. And he
can't have any home, for he sits in the street. And he's got a ticket
on his back to say 'Blind,' and 'Taught at the Blind School.' And as I
passed he was reading quite loud. And I heard him say, 'Now Barabbas
was a robber.' Oh, he _is_ such a poor man! And you know, Regie, he
_must_ be good, for _we_ don't sit reading our Bibles all day long."

I at once gave my consent to the box being emptied in favour of this
very poor and very pious man; and at the first opportunity Polly took
the money to her _protege_.

"He was so much pleased!" she reported on her return. "He seemed quite
surprised to get so much. And he said, 'GOD bless you, miss!' I wish
you'd been there, Regie. I said, 'It's not all from me.' He _was_ so
much pleased!"

"How did he know you were a _miss_, I wonder?" said I.

"I suppose it was my voice," said Polly, after a pause.

As soon as I could go out, I went to see the blind man. As I drew
near, he was--as Polly t