ture, colour and curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten
them! Where do you find prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager
expressions? Nowhere! And though their faces become prematurely old,
and their eyes become hard, still Dame Nature had not forgotten them at
birth; she, at any rate, had done her best for them.

Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, and I
will bring hundreds of children from below the line that will compare
with them in beauty of body, face and hair. But they must be under four
years of age! No! no! the children of the upperworld have not a monopoly
of Dame Nature's gifts.

And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good share of
them, but the pity is they get so little chance of exercising them.
For many splendid qualities wither from disuse or perish from lack of
development. But some survive, as the following stories will prove.

It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who wished to
learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was visiting in the
worst quarters of East London.

As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the dirt
within and without were almost too much for us. The box-like rooms, the
horrible backyards, the grime of the men, women and children, combined
with the filth in the streets and gutters, made us sick and faint. We
asked ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous
or intelligent could live under such conditions?

The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality
it was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it. It was very
narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women
discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite
side.

They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not
favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores of times,
and consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my address was also
well known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do
in that street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous
non-recipients.

I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging
or unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a
marked characteristic of that unclean street. As we entered the house
from which no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her
neighbour, "They are going to see the old