that are made
are often sold to the poor at a low price. A most impressive scene is
witnessed during the winter months, when, on three evenings of the week,
all the basement rooms are crowded with the men's night-school, which
has, it is believed, no rival in England. The ordinary number of names
on the books exceeds twelve hundred. There are forty-nine classes, all
taught by ladies, the majority of them being deaconesses. The subjects
range from the elementary to the higher branches of general and
practical knowledge, including arithmetic, geography, geometry, freehand
drawing, and short-hand. The Bible is read in the classes on Monday and
Friday, and a scriptural address is given by some gentleman on
Wednesday. The school always closes with prayer and singing. The men
may purchase coffee and bread and butter before leaving, and of this
they largely avail themselves. A lending library is also attached to the
school. The highest attendance during last session was five hundred and
eighty-one, the lowest two hundred and eighty-seven.

The influence of this school is very great, and many pass on from it to
the men's Bible-class, which is held on Sunday afternoons in the largest
basement room.[70]

A servants' registry is attached to the deaconess house, and through its
means about four hundred servants are annually provided with places.

Nearly fifty deaconesses make their home at this central house, many of
them having work in the different parts of the city, perhaps at remote
distances, but returning at night to the home-like surroundings and
purer air of the central house. The large sitting-room, the common
living-room of the deaconesses, is a charming place. It is of great
size, but made cheerful and attractive by pictures, flowers, and bright
and tasteful decorations that are restful to the eyes. Both Mr. and Mrs.
Pennefather made it a principle of action to have the home life
cheerful, pleasant, and attractive, so that when the sisters come in
toward evening, tired physically, and mentally depressed and exhausted
by the long strain of hearing tales of misery, and seeing sights of
wretchedness and squalor the day through, they could be cheered not only
by the words of sympathy and love of their associates, but by the
silent, restful influences of their surroundings.

As I looked around the great room with deep-set windows, brightened by
flowers, and still more by the happy faces of the deaconesses, some of
whom we