a very
trumpery little incident related in an absurdly circumstantial manner.
Oh, my young friends and fellow-sinners! beware of presuming to exercise
your poor carnal reason. Oh, be morally tidy. Let your faith be as your
stockings, and your stockings as your faith. Both ever spotless, and
both ready to put on at a moment's notice!

I beg a thousand pardons. I have fallen insensibly into my Sunday-school
style. Most inappropriate in such a record as this. Let me try to be
worldly--let me say that trifles, in this case as in many others, led
to terrible results. Merely premising that the polite stranger was Mr.
Luker, of Lambeth, we will now follow Mr. Godfrey home to his residence
at Kilburn.

He found waiting for him, in the hall, a poorly clad but delicate and
interesting-looking little boy. The boy handed him a letter, merely
mentioning that he had been entrusted with it by an old lady whom he did
not know, and who had given him no instructions to wait for an answer.
Such incidents as these were not uncommon in Mr. Godfrey's large
experience as a promoter of public charities. He let the boy go, and
opened the letter.

The handwriting was entirely unfamiliar to him. It requested his
attendance, within an hour's time, at a house in Northumberland Street,
Strand, which he had never had occasion to enter before. The object
sought was to obtain from the worthy manager certain details on the
subject of the Mothers'-Small-Clothes-Conversion-Society, and the
information was wanted by an elderly lady who proposed adding largely to
the resources of the charity, if her questions were met by satisfactory
replies. She mentioned her name, and she added that the shortness of
her stay in London prevented her from giving any longer notice to the
eminent philanthropist whom she addressed.

Ordinary people might have hesitated before setting aside their own
engagements to suit the convenience of a stranger. The Christian Hero
never hesitates where good is to be done. Mr. Godfrey instantly turned
back, and proceeded to the house in Northumberland Street. A most
respectable though somewhat corpulent man answered the door, and, on
hearing Mr. Godfrey's name, immediately conducted him into an empty
apartment at the back, on the drawing-room floor. He noticed two unusual
things on entering the room. One of them was a faint odour of musk
and camphor. The other was an ancient Oriental manuscript, richly
illuminated with Indian figures a