helping hand to the poor civilians, we took it into our heads
to invite some of 'em to a grand tea-fight in the big hall, so we asked
a lot o' the poorest who had faithfully kept the pledge through their
first teetotal Christmas; and it _was_ a scrimmage, I can tell you. We
got together more than forty of 'em, men and women, and there were about
three hundred soldiers and sailors, and their wives to wait on 'em an'
keep 'em company!"

"Capital!" exclaimed Miles, who had a sympathetic spirit--especially for
the poor.

"Good--good!" said Molloy, nodding his head. "That was the right thing
to do, an' I suppose they enjoyed theirselves?"

"Enjoyed themselves!" exclaimed the marine, with a laugh. "I should
just think they did. Trust Miss Robinson for knowin' how to make poor
folk enjoy themselves--and, for the matter of that, rich folk too! How
they did stuff, to be sure! Many of 'em, poor things, hadn't got such a
blow-out in all their lives before. You see, they was the very poorest
of the poor. You may believe what I say, for I went round myself with
one o' the Institoot ladies to invite 'em, and I do declare to you that
I never saw even pigs or dogs in such a state of destitootion--nothin'
whatever to lie on but the bare boards."

"You don't say so?" murmured Moses, with deep commiseration, and
seemingly oblivious of the fact that he was himself pretty much in
similar destitution at that moment.

"Indeed I do. Look here," continued the marine, becoming more earnest
as he went on; "thousands of people don't know--can't understand--what
misery and want and suffering is going on around 'em. City missionaries
and the like tell 'em about it, and write about it, but telling and
writin' _don't_ make people _know_ some things. They must _see_, ay,
sometimes they must _feel_, before they can rightly understand.

"One of the rooms we visited," continued Stevenson, in pathetic tones,
"belonged to a poor old couple who had been great drinkers, but had been
induced to put on the blue-ribbon. It was a pigeon-hole of a room,
narrow, up a dark stair. They had no means of support. The room was
empty. Everything had been pawned. The last thing given up was the
woman's shawl to pay the rent, and they were starving."

"Why didn't they go to the work'us?" asked Simkin.

"'Cause the workhouse separates man and wife, in defiance of the Divine
law--`Whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.' They was
fond o