e's
little ones, which speaks for itself.

"A little girl of six was deserted by both father and mother."

"Oh! _poor_ little thing!" exclaimed the sympathetic Di, with an amazing
series of pitiful curves about her eyebrows.

"Yes, poor indeed!" responded Seaward. "The mother forsook her first;
then her father took her on the tramp, but the little feet could not
travel fast enough, so he got tired of her and offered her to a
workhouse. They refused her, so the tramping was continued, and at last
baby was sold for three shillings to a stranger man. On taking his
purchase home, however, the man found that his wife was unwilling to
receive her; he therefore sent poor little baby adrift in the streets of
London!"

"_What_ a shame!" cried Di, with flashing orbs.

"Was it not? But, when father and mother cast this little one off, the
Lord cared for it. An inspector of police, who found it, took it to his
wife, and she carried it to Miss Rye's Home, where it was at once
received and cared for, and, doubtless, this little foundling girl is
now dwelling happily and usefully with a Canadian family."

"How nice!" exclaimed Di, her eyes, lips, and teeth bearing eloquent
witness to her satisfaction.

"But no doubt you have heard of Miss Rye's work, as well as that of Miss
Annie Macpherson at the Home of Industry, and, perhaps, contributed
to--"

"No," interrupted Sir Richard, quickly, "I do not contribute; but pray,
Mr Seaward, are there other institutions of this sort in London?"

"Oh! yes, there are several, it would take me too long to go into the
details of the various agencies we have for succouring the poor. There
is, among others, The Church of England `_Central Home for Waifs and
Strays_,' with a `Receiving House' for boys in Upper Clapton, and one
for girls in East Dulwich, with the Archbishop of Canterbury for its
President. Possibly you may have heard of the `_Strangers' Rest_,' in
Saint George Street, Ratcliff Highway, where, as far as man can judge,
great and permanent good is being constantly done to the souls of
sailors. A sailor once entered this `Rest' considerably the worse for
drink. He was spoken to by Christian friends, and asked to sign the
pledge. He did so, and has now been steadfast for years. Returning
from a long voyage lately, he went to revisit the _Rest_, and there, at
the Bible-class, prayed. Part of his prayer was--`God bless the
Strangers' Rest. O Lord, we thank Thee for this