ships, and Tiny went ashore.

It was about sunset that Tiny found himself in the street of the great
city. The workmen were going home from their labour, he thought at
first; but could it be a city full of workmen? he asked himself as the
crowd passed by him and he stood gazing on the poor. For he saw only
the poor: now and then something dazzling and splendid went past, but if
he turned again to discover what it was that made his eyes ache so with
the brightness, the strange sight was lost in the crowd, and all he
could see were pale faces, and hungry voices, and the half-clad forms of
men, and women, and children. And then he said to himself with a groan,
"The city is full of beggars."

As he said that, another thought occurred to Tiny, and he unfastened his
harp, and touched the strings. But in the din and roar of the city
wagons, and in the confusion of voices, for every one seemed to be
talking at the top of his voice, what chance had that harp-player of
being heard? Still, though the crowd brushed past him as if there was
no sound whatever in the harp strings, and no power at all in the hand
that struck them, Tiny kept on playing, and presently he began to sing.

It was _that_ they wanted--the living human voice, that trembled and
grew strong again, that was sorrowful and joyous, that prayed and wept,
and gave thanks, just as the human heart does! It was _that_ the people
wanted; and so well did they know their want that the moment Tiny began
to sing, the crowd going past him, heard his voice. And the people
gathered round him, and more than one said to himself with joy, "Our
brother has come at last!"

They gathered around him--the poor, and lame, and sick, and blind;
ragged children, weary men, desponding women, whose want and sorrow
spoke from every look, and word, and dress. Closely they crowded around
him; and angry voices were hushed, and troubled hearts for the moment
forgot their trouble, and the weary forgot that another day of toil was
before them. The pale woman nearest Tiny who held the little baby in
her arms, felt its limbs growing colder and colder, and once she looked
under her shawl and quickly laid her hand upon her darling's heart, but
though she knew then that the child was dead, still she stood there
smiling, and looking up towards heaven where Tiny's eyes so often
looked, because at that very moment he was singing of the Father in
Heaven, whose house of many mansions is large eno