in a slow way. Oh! that it should
take so long to kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that so many
lives are wrecked in this way, that so many are driven to wrong, that
so many others should drift away into lives of hopelessness. I have been
stripped of all, and I am waiting for the worst."

Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers will, I
am sure, recognise that those are the words of an educated woman. Yes,
her education was begun in England and finished on the Continent. Were I
to mention the name of the writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that
name lives in story and song.

But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, and
teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out-patient's
ticket for a chest hospital.

She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; sometimes
she lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she will not be able to
earn her penny per hour; then there will be "homelessness," but not the
workhouse for her.

But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me not
thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I shall, indeed,
be very grateful for one when able to get about, for I shall need
something to set me up a bit.

"At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much better, yet
not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, I have a very bad
gathered finger, and this week I have not been able to do a stitch of
work; indeed, it is very little that I have been able to do this last
ten weeks. Oh, the cruel oppression of taking advantage and putting
extra work for less pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself!

"The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. Sister Grace
was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day while she was here,
because I could not do the work, that she sent a letter to him telling
him the fact of my suffering. She thinks I am in a very bad state
through insufficient food, and, Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but
God and myself really know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is
to get a proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a
week when I pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this up to
the present somehow or other; but all my treasures are gone, and I look
round and wonder what next!

"My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the past,
although long silent. It has been a great grie