hould not choke, nor
the stony soil refuse!

Passing one evening through one of those dilapidated streets, to which the
doors, half torn from their hinges, and the broken windows, admitting the
raw, cold, gusty winds, gave so comfortless an aspect, I turned at a
sudden angle into a district which I had never before visited. Through the
low arch of a half-ruined bridge, a turbid stream rolled rapidly on,
augmented by the late rains. A strange-looking building, partly formed of
wood, black and decaying with age and damp, leaned heavily over the
passing waters; it was composed of many stories, which were approached by
a wooden stair and shed-like gallery without, and evidently occupied by
many families. The lamenting wail of neglected children and the din of
contention were heard within. Hesitating on the threshold, I leant over
the bridge, and perceived an extensive area beneath the ancient tenement;
many low-browed doors, over whose broken steps the water washed and
rippled, became distinguishable. As I gazed, one of them suddenly opened,
and a pale haggard woman appeared, shading a flickering light with her
hand. I descended the few slippery wooden steps leading to the strange
abodes, and approached her. As I advanced, she appeared to recognize me.

"Come in, sir," she said hurriedly; "there is one within will be glad to
see you;" and, turning, she led me through a winding passage into a dreary
room, whose blackened floor of stone bore strong evidence that the flood
chafed and darkened beneath it.

In an old arm-chair beside the rusty and almost fireless grate, sat, or
rather lay, a pale and fragile creature, a wreck of blighted loveliness.

"Helen," said the woman, placing the light on a rough table near her,
"here is the minister come to see you."

The person she addressed attempted to rise, but the effort was too much,
and she sank back, as if exhausted by it. A blush mantled over her cheek,
and gave to her large dark eyes a faint and fading lustre. She had been
beautiful, _very_ beautiful; but the delicate features were sharpened and
attenuated, the exquisite symmetry of her form worn by want and illness to
a mere outline of its former graceful proportions; yet, even amid the
squalid wretchedness that surrounded her, an air of by-gone superiority
gave a nameless interest to her appearance, and I approached her with a
respectful sympathy that seemed strange to my very self.

After a few explanatory sentences res