sides being a hard-working man, Solomon Flint was a public man, and a
man of note. In the district of London which he frequented, thousands
of the public watched for him, wished for him, even longed for him, and
received him gladly. Young eyes sometimes sparkled and old eyes
sometimes brightened when his well-known uniform appeared. Footmen
opened to him with good-will, and servant-girls with smiles. Even in
the low neighbourhoods of his district--and he traversed several such--
Solomon was regarded with favour. His person was as sacred as that of a
detective or a city missionary. Men who scowled on the world at large
gave a familiar nod to him, and women who sometimes desired to tear off
people's scalps never displayed the slightest wish to damage a hair of
the postman's head. He moved about, in fact, like a benign influence,
distributing favours and doing good wherever he went. May it not be
said truly that in the spiritual world we have a good many news-bearers
of a similar stamp? Are not the loving, the gentle, the
self-sacrificing such?--in a word, the Christ-like, who, if they do not
carry letters about, are themselves living epistles "known and read of
all men?"

One of the low districts through which Solomon Flint had to pass daily
embraced the dirty court in which Abel Bones dwelt. Anticipating a very
different fate for it, no doubt, the builder of this region had named it
Archangel Court.

As he passed rapidly through it Solomon observed a phenomenon by no
means unusual in London and elsewhere, namely, a very small girl taking
charge of an uncommonly large baby. Urgent though his duties were,
Solomon would have been more than human if he had not stopped to observe
the little girl attempt the apparently impossible feat of lifting the
frolicsome mass of fat which was obviously in a rebellious state of
mind. Solomon had occasionally seen the little girl in his rounds, but
never before in possession of a baby. She grasped him round the waist,
which her little arms could barely encircle, and, making a mighty
effort, got the rebel on his legs. A second heave placed him on her
knees, and a third effort, worthy of a gymnast, threw him on her little
bosom. She had to lean dangerously far back to keep him there, and
being incapable of seeing before her, owing to the bulk of her burden,
was compelled to direct her course by faith. She knew the court well,
however, and was progressing favourably, when a l