rd day's work to earn money
enough to buy, and many a wakeful hour at night to keep in order and to
mend, all were gone. They had been in bed when the alarm of fire had
awoke them, and had nothing on but their night-dresses when they were
saved. She had been an industrious, hard-working woman, had long
struggled bravely and womanfully against poverty and difficulties, but
this last blow seemed fairly to have broken her spirit; and when I went
to see her, I found her sitting at the fireside of the kindly neighbour
who had given her a night's shelter, looking the very image of blank
and helpless despair. She was a proud woman in her way, possessed of
that pride which one likes to see and so heartily respects, and which,
alas! is so fast dying out among us,--the pride of honourable
independence, which would willingly work day and night rather than
receive charity from strangers. The bugbear of her life, since ever she
had been left a widow with five helpless little ones to support, had
been the Union Poor's-house; and now want, starvation, and the Union
seemed staring her in the face. It was pitiful to see the spasm of
positive pain which crossed her face as I put a trifle into her hand on
leaving. She murmured a few words of thanks; but I heard her say with a
deep sigh, as I left the room, 'I'm nothing better than a beggar now,
living upon other folk's charity.'

The following day was a Sunday, the fire having taken place on a Friday
night. The lessons in my Bible-class were sooner over than usual that
day, and I took advantage of the short interval of time before the
concluding prayer was offered, to tell my class about the fire, and of
the utter destitution in which the poor widow and her children had been
left. All the girls seemed very sorry, and I heard them discussing the
subject as we were coming out, after the class had been dismissed. The
next morning I was told that a girl wanted to speak to me; and on going
down-stairs I found it was one of my scholars, Jane Hill. She had a
sweet, gentle countenance, and her modest manners, and the attention she
always gave to her lessons, had made her a great favourite with me. I
saw that she felt some timidity in telling me what she had come about,
so I spoke to her encouragingly, and, after a little hesitation, she
said:

'Please, ma'am, would you give this to the poor woman whose house was
burnt?' and, placing a small packet in my hands, she seemed inclined to
run away.