long and dreary; being for the most a long straight road
with tall hedges at either side and an occasional cottage or tree
releiving the monotony of the scenery. But Helen, leaning back in her
comfortable carriage is not thinking of the passing scenery, but of the
extraordinary mission she is bent on.

At length the carriage stops, and Mrs. Cotton leads the way up to a
small tumble down dirty looking inn, whith an almost illegable
incription painted in white letters, "The jolly Dutchman, Thomas
Cotton."

Mrs. Cotton opens the door and Helen finds herself in a very small and
filthy dirty passage. A strong smell of beer and tobacco greet her on
entering. A door on one side of the passage is half open, and looking
through, Helen can see three or four rough looking men seated round a
table with mugs of beer before them and pipes in their mouths, and the
sounds that issue from the room are none of the pleasantest, for the men
are talking, laughing and shouting, not to say swearing.

In disgust Helen turns to the door of the other room. It is a kitchen
evidently and a remarkably dirty one too. A candle is burning in this
room, and by the light of it Helen can see a slovenly looking girl
stirring some horrid smelling stuff in a saucpan, while a very small
baby is yelling its heart out in a wooden cradle.

"Here Sally" cries Mrs. Cotton to the girl "how is the invalid"

"No better" replies Sally wiping her hands on her apron "I lit a fire
for him, 'cause he grumbled so about the cold."

"I dont wonder at it" responds Mrs. Cotton, "well mum," she continues
turning to Helen "perhaps you'll step upstairs, its that door there mum
with the handle off," and she points with her grimy finger to a door at
the top of the stairs. Helen climbs the ricketty staircase with a wild
fear and misgiving at her heart, wondering what the result of this
strange visit will be. A light is burning in the room she enters. It is
a damp cold place, a trifle larger than the passage below. A miserable
fire is doing its best to burn in the grate and judging by the amount of
matches strewn about, Sally must have been exerting many patient efforts
to get it to burn at all.

The window was minus a pane of glass and the cold wind blew right
through the room making the door bang to and fro with a madly monotonous
tone.

Helen glanced hastily round the room, but the corners being in
darkness, she had to hold the candle above her head to see anything at