, in fact. But where have you been?"

"We also have been skating," said Matilda.

"Indeed! I thought you had intended to spend the day somewhere in the
east-end attending some of those free breakfasts, and visiting the poor,
or something of that sort--as if there were not enough of city
missionaries, and sisters of mercy, or charity, or whatever you call
them, to look after such things."

"You are right, Ned," said Tom, "such was our intention, and we carried
it out too. It was only at the end of the day that we took to skating
on the Serpentine, and, considering the number of people we have run
into, or overturned, or tumbled over, we found a couple of hours of it
quite sufficient."

From this point Tom Westlake "harked back" and related his experiences
of the day. He possessed considerable power of graphic delineation, and
gradually aroused the interest of his gay and volatile but
kindly-disposed brother.

"Ned," said he, at last, "do you really believe in the truth of these
words, `Blessed are they that consider the poor?'"

"Yes, Tom, I do," replied Ned, becoming suddenly serious.

What Tom said to his brother after that we will not relate, but the
result was that, before that Christmas evening closed, he succeeded in
convincing Ned that a day of "jolly good fun" may be rendered
inexpressibly more "jolly," by being commenced with an effort to cheer
and lighten the lot of those into whose sad lives there enter but a
small amount of jollity and far too little fun.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 1.

A DOUBLE RESCUE--INTRODUCTION.

It is a curious and interesting fact that Christmas-tide seemed to have
a peculiar influence on the prospects of our hero Jack Matterby, all
through his life. All the chief events of his career, somehow, happened
on or about Christmas Day.

Jack was born, to begin with, on a Christmas morning. His father, who
was a farmer in the middle ranks of life, rejoiced in the fact,
esteeming it full of promise for the future. So did his mother. Jack
himself did not at first seem to have any particular feeling on the
subject. If one might judge his opinions by his conduct, it seemed that
he was rather displeased than otherwise at having been born; for he
spent all the first part of his natal day in squalling and making faces,
as though he did not like the world at all, and would rather not have
come into it.

"John, dear," said his mother to his father, one day not long after his
bir