Prayer-Book and Ledger.

White Ribbon, Issue 1, 1 July 1895, Page 7

Prayer-Book and Ledger.

By M.S.P.

A BTOBI FOUNDED ON FACT.

ALL KIOHTH KEHKKVED.

Chapter 11.

It was hot, as only London can be hot. Nevertheless, as the Rev Richard Joyce walked homewards, lie avoided the shadows cast by the houses and walked in the middle of the street, picking his way carefully among the cabbage-stumps, bones, ashes, etc., with which it was adorned. At the doors of the tumble-down, rickety dwellings, gossipped bloated, unkempt women, with miserable little specimens of humanity in their arms, while idle, unshaven men lolled under the windows, pipe in mouth and hands in pockets. Tattered children squabbling in the gutter completed the picture—for this was the abode of the " great unwashed." Evil odours seemed to Hing themselves at the passer-by from every sweltering refuse-heap, and the curate, accustomed though he was to such scenes, hurried along as quickly as the heat would permit. Presently he found himself in a more respectable neighbourhood, and soon turned into a long street, where each house resembled the other, being built with a bay

window and deep doorway. IT* rayi of the August sun poured down upon him relentlessly, and the very pavement Kemed to burn his feet. (Opening one of the iron gates, he ran eagerly up the steps, and let himself in with his latch key. The dining-room door stood open, as well as the window, but not a breath of air stirred the white curtains. Gertrude, looking paler and thinner than when we saw her last year, ! ■<n<d back wearily in the rocking-chair, he; baby on her knee. Rich .rd stooped to imprint a tender kiss upon her forehead before taking hi* little son and tossing him up to the ceiling. This was an occupation to which Master Lionel was very partial, and he testified his approval by lusty crows and kicks.

44 There, young man, that's as much as you'll get just now. Your unfortunate father will be worn to a shadow if you treat him in this way. Phew, how hot it is !" As he spoke Richard dropped into a chair, and taking out his ban 1kerchief wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

44 Well, dear, and how did the Mothers' Met ting get on this afternoon ? " he asked presently, while the baby contentedly munched his watch-chain. 14 Splendidly," rejoined his wife : 44 wc had three new members—one of them such a thin, halfstarved looking creature, it made my heart a to look at her. Mrs liarty finished paying for her shirt, and carried it off in great triumph I read to them a little, but it seemed better to let theiu tell their troubles, poor things ! and try and lead them to the great Healer." 44 I am afraid that meeting is too much for your sirength, dear ; you look so tired. By the way, did you get a letter from your father? What did he say ? 44 He thinks the wine he prescribed for me before baby's birth is not sufficient now that I'm nursing him, and says I should take stout also, to give me a little strength. He prescribes a tonic as well." She handed him the letter as she spoke, and, after perusing it in silence, he remarked, 44 I'm to glad I thought of writing to the doctor ; we shall soon have you strong again now, my lassie."

He rose and, after placing the child on her knee, crossed to the window and stood watching the postman as he worked his way up the street. After a moment's pause, Gertrude said, with a little tremble in her voice, 4< Somehow, I wish father hadn't said that; I would rather not take stimulants at all than take more. When I see those poor women, and think what dreadful lives some of them lead, in terror of their drunken husbands, I fancy sometimes-I don't know, but I think, perhaps, it would be better if we didn't take

it. And O, Richard, 1 saw such an awful sight this afternoon. As I went down John-Street, two policemen were taking a woman to the notice* station. She was drunk, and they had her by the arms—half dragging, half carrying her, she prong vigorously all the way. Her bonnet bad fallen oil her shoulders, her hair was hanging down bet back, while a crowd of street bovs w hooting and jeering, tearing her ragged gown, and tugging at her hair. The frenzied look in hef t terrible ! Suppose she has little children who call her mother, and perhaps a dear little baby crying for her while she is locked up there ! " Gertrude's soft brown eyes filled with tears, and. clasping her own baby to her breast, she buried her flushed, earnest face in his dainty pinafore. Richard strode across the room and took up a position upon the rug before replying. 44 My dear, please do not mention yourself in the same breath with that creature. Yen surely are not going t join those fanatical teetotallers."

( '/'(. fir roH'littl'tl )