pse into the home of one of our pupils, you
can more easily understand what we have to work against among these
people. In a miserable old hovel, of one small room, lives a family of
eleven, father, mother, five children, two pitiful little orphans, to
whom the mother out of the kindness of her heart has given shelter, and
a young man and a young woman as boarders. The mother toils hard each
day to furnish bread for the little ones, and does what she can to keep
her family respectable. The father is what is termed, "no 'count." He
has no regular employment, but, when so inclined, will chop wood, and
thus earn a few dimes. Their house is lighted by one small window, in
which bunches of rags and papers supply the absence of glass. The room
is heated by an old fire-place, which is crumbling to decay. The
furniture consists of two straw beds covered with ragged quilts, a
little pine table, and four broken chairs. I need not tell you of the
moral atmosphere which exists in such a home. Yet this is only a type of
the home we see too often when we are making our round of calls.

SACRIFICES FOR EDUCATION.

Our school refuses none on account of age. Pupils are there, from the
little three-year-old who attends the "Kinny-garten," as they call it,
to those who are forty and fifty years old. I have been exceedingly
interested in one woman who is now attending school in the primary room.
She said to me: "I done sent my daughters through school and now I
thought I would try and get a little education myself."

One of the good brothers well expressed this idea of sacrifice on the
part of the parents for the education of their children when he said, "I
only wants to be a stepping-stone for my children. If I can help them to
rise higher than I have got, that is all I ask."

One poor woman told me she spent less than a dollar per week for
provisions for a family of eight persons in order to save money to keep
her children in school.

The oldest pupil in my school, a man over thirty years of age, said to
me one day, "I wish I could have gone to school when I was young, for as
a fellow grows older, his remembrance comes shorter."

* * * * *

OUR YOUNG FOLKS.

Two little girls, about eight and nine years old, have just been to my
room. The older one said, "This yere chile wants a dress to wear to
Sunday-school to-morrow, and her ma says if it don't fit she can cut it
off and make it over." I found