'That is a better church than most of those I enter where respectable saints have the best seats, and there is no place for sinners,' said Livy when she got home. 'Spurgeon's congregation preached more eloquently to me than he did. The Magdalen cried as if her heart was broken, and I am sure those tears washed some of her sins away. The feeble old man looked as if he had found a staff for his trembling hands to lay hold upon, and the forlorn souls all about me, for a time at least, laid down their burdens and found rest and comfort in their Father's house. It did me more good than the preaching of all the bishops in London, or the finest pageant at St. Paul's; and I am truly glad I went, though the saucy conductor did smirk at me over the rosebud.' In contrast to this serious expedition, the old lady had a very jolly one not long afterward. A certain congenial Professor asked her one day what person, place, or thing in London she most desired to see. Clasping her hands with the energy of deep emotion, she replied,-- 'The home of the immortal Sairy Gamp. Long ago I made a vow, if I ever came to London I'd visit that spot. Let me keep my vow.' 'You shall!' responded the Professor with a responsive ardour, which caused Livy to dive into her waterproof without another word. Away they went in a pouring rain, and what people thought of the damp but enthusiastic couple who pervaded the city that day I can't say; I only know a merrier pair of pilgrims never visited those grimy shrines. They met several old friends, and passed several familiar spots by the way. Major Bagstock and Cousin Phenix stared at them from a club-house window. Tigg Montague's cab dashed by them in Regent Street, more gorgeous than ever. The brothers Cheeryble went trotting cityward arm in arm, with a smile and ha'penny for all the beggars they met; and the Micawber family passed them in a bus, going, I suppose, to accompany the blighted Wilkins to gaol. In a certain grimly genteel street they paused to stare up at a row of grimly respectable houses; for, though the name wasn't on any of the doors, they were sure Mr. Dombey still lived there. A rough dog lay on one of the doorsteps, and a curtain fluttered at an open upper window. Poor Di was growling in his sleep, and above there little Paul was watching for the golden water on the wall, while faithful Florence sung to him, and Susan Nipper put away derisive sniffs and winks in closets and behind doors for the benefit of 'them Pipchinses.' Coming to a poorer part of the city, they met Tiny Tim tapping along on his little crutch, passed Toby Veck at a windy street-corner, and saw all the little Tetterbys playing in the mud. 'Come down this street, and take a glimpse at St. Giles's, the worst part of London,' said the Professor; and, following, Livy saw misery enough in five minutes to make her heart ache for the day. A policeman kept near them, saying it wasn't safe to go far there alone.