I thanked this young castaway; and I said, in a
tone of Christian interest, "Will you favour me by accepting a tract?"
She looked at the title. "Is it written by a man or a woman, Miss? If
it's written by a woman, I had rather not read it on that account. If
it's written by a man, I beg to inform him that he knows nothing about
it." She handed me back the tract, and opened the door. We must sow the
good seed somehow. I waited till the door was shut on me, and slipped
the tract into the letter-box. When I had dropped another tract through
the area railings, I felt relieved, in some small degree, of a heavy
responsibility towards others.
We had a meeting that evening of the Select Committee of the
Mothers'-Small-Clothes-Conversion-Society. The object of this excellent
Charity is--as all serious people know--to rescue unredeemed fathers'
trousers from the pawnbroker, and to prevent their resumption, on the
part of the irreclaimable parent, by abridging them immediately to suit
the proportions of the innocent son. I was a member, at that time,
of the select committee; and I mention the Society here, because my
precious and admirable friend, Mr.
Pages:
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383