k to her eyes? or take the misery out of her heart?
No, no. She'd count over her gold, and say, with a horrid laugh, "It
comes too late--too late!"

Oh! how I wished that all who give only----_good advice_! to a poor,
tempted, starving, fellow creature, could have heard those dreadful
words: "Too late,--too late!"

THE LITTLE EMIGRANTS.

Tell you a story, Harry? Do you like to hear about poor people? Well,
jump up into my lap. So;--now look straight into my eyes.

Last night I went to see some poor Italian emigrants. I threaded my way
through dirty streets and alleys, and up rickety old staircases, where
it was so dark that I had to feel my way, and where I coughed and
choked at every step, with the tobacco smoke and bad air.

At last I opened the door of a small room, lighted with one window,
where were a dozen persons--men, women and children. Some were seated
on straw beds, which were lying upon the floor; some were sitting upon
old boxes, and others were looking out the window (as if bewildered)
upon the strange scenes in the street below.

Crouched upon the hearth, was a very old woman, with thin, gray locks,
toothless gums, and bare bosom. She was stretching out her skinny hands
over a few shavings that she had kindled into a blaze; while a little
baby lay in a shawl beside her, rubbing its eyes, and crying at the
smoke that was every instant puffed into its little face. On the
opposite side of the hearth, was a little boy and girl, quite naked to
the waist from whence hung a little dirty tunic to their bare knees. A
tin pan of _raw potatoes_ lay between them, which they were slicing off
with a great knife, and greedily devouring, as if they were
half-starved.

Harry, what do you think of that? How should _you_ relish a raw potato
for supper? How should you like to come from a warm, sunny country,
into a cold, chilly climate, and be obliged to go half-naked because
you had no money to buy clothes? How should you like not to be able to
understand a word anybody there said to you, or not to be able to make
_them_ understand _you_? How should you like to have _your_ mother, or
_your_ father, go wandering round, day after day, _making signs_ to
people, to try to get employment, and have to keep giving away one
article of their poor clothing after another for a loaf of bread? How
should you like to be turned out (even of that miserable room) into the
street, some stormy night, by a cruel landlord? How s