ead, and a voice in my ear that whispered, "Son."

And as the word died away into a silence like the hallowed hush of
listening angels, and I stretched forth my arms with a cry of
unutterable longing and love, I say that He held one by the hand--even
the one who had plucked me out of the abyss into which I had fallen--and
I saw that it was Dorothy--Dorothy whom He had sought out and saved from
the shame to which my sin had driven her, and whom He had sent to
succour me, that so He might set upon my soul the seal of His pardon and
of His peace.

* * * * *

CHARLES KINGSLEY

Alton Locke

Charles Kingsley, English novelist, poet, and clergyman, was
born June 12, 1819, and died Jan. 23, 1875. The son of the
rector of Chelsea, London, Kingsley went from King's College,
London, to Cambridge, taking his B.A. degree in 1842, and
becoming rector of Eversley in 1844. He was made one of the
Queen's chaplains in 1859, and in 1873 was appointed canon of
Westminster. After publishing "Village Sermons" and "The
Saint's Tragedy," Kingsley took part with F.D. Maurice in the
Christian Socialist movement of 1848, attacking the horrible
sweating then rife in the tailoring trade, calling attention
to the miserable plight of the agricultural labourer, and the
need for sanitary reform in town and country. In "Alton Locke,
Tailor and Poet," first published in 1849, Kingsley writes
from the point of view of the earnest artisan of sixty years
ago, and the success of the book, following the author's
pamphlet on "Cheap Clothes and Nasty," did much to stimulate
social and philanthropic work in London and other great
industrial centres. Various editions of the novels of Kingsley
are obtainable.

_I.--A Sweating Shop_

I am a cockney among cockneys.

My earliest recollections are of a suburban street; of his jumble of
little shops and little terraces.

My mother was a widow. My father, whom I cannot recollect, was a small
retail tradesman in the city. He was unfortunate, and when he died, as
many small tradesmen do, of bad debts and a broken heart, he left us
beggars, and my mother came down and lived penuriously enough in that
suburban street.

My mother moved by rule and method; by God's law, as she considered, and
that only. She seldom smiled. She never commanded twice without
punishing. And yet