ffer it--is, that
the little chap in your arms may grow up to bless his mother as heartily
as I bless mine, but that can never be, so long as you love the strong
drink and refuse the Saviour."

At that moment a loud cry was heard outside. They all rose and ran to
the door, where a woman, in the lowest depths of depravity, with her
eyes bloodshot, her hair tumbling about her half-naked shoulders, and
her ragged garments draggled and wet, had fallen in her efforts to enter
the public-house to obtain more of the poison which had already almost
destroyed her. She had cut her forehead, and the blood flowed freely
over her face as the missionary lifted her. He was a powerful man, and
could take her up tenderly and with ease. She was not much hurt,
however. After Seaward had bandaged the cut with his own handkerchief
she professed to be much better.

This little incident completed the good influence which the missionary's
words and manner had previously commenced. Most of the women began to
weep as they listened to the words of love, encouragement, and hope
addressed to them. A few of course remained obdurate, though not
unimpressed.

All this time young Sam Twitter remained in his dark corner, with his
head resting on his arms to prevent his being recognised. Well did he
know John Seaward, and well did Seaward know him, for the missionary had
long been a fellow-worker with Mrs Twitter in George Yard and at the
Home of Industry. The boy was very anxious to escape Seaward's
observation. This was not a difficult matter. When the missionary
left, after distributing his tracts, Sammy rose up and sought to hide
himself--from himself, had that been possible--in the lowest slums of
London.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

TELLS OF SOME CURIOUS AND VIGOROUS PECULIARITIES OF THE LOWER ORDERS.

Now it must not be supposed that Mrs Frog, having provided for her baby
and got rid of it, remained thereafter quite indifferent to it. On the
contrary, she felt the blank more than she had expected, and her
motherly heart began to yearn for it powerfully.

To gratify this yearning to some extent, she got into the habit of
paying frequent visits, sometimes by night and sometimes by day, to the
street in which Samuel Twitter lived, and tried to see her baby through
the stone walls of the house! Her eyes being weak, as well as her
imagination, she failed in this effort, but the mere sight of the house
where little Matty was, sufficed t