Sure enough. _And this was once her home!_ She opened a disreputable door, and we climbed a dirty and fearfully rickety stairway; next we groped our way along a dark passage. "Mind, there's a broken board! Look out you don't break your ankle," said Callie. She spoke none too soon. I narrowly escaped an accident. Now we turned a corner and got a little better light, this disclosing another old partly-broken-down stairway with nearly all the balustrade gone. Up these we climbed, hugging, as we did so, the filthy wall, for safety. On reaching the top she rapped gently an a cracked door, but received no answer. She rapped louder. Still no answer. Presently some one called from somewhere below. Then she rapped still louder. This time a man's voice inquired, "Who's there?" There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, and then the door opened, disclosing two women, one young, one old, and three men, all young, but all old-looking, cadaverous, starved, ragged, filthy, and indescribably loathsome. Furthermore, the odor issuing through that open doorway was almost intolerable. Callie knew all, with the exception of the young girl, and called each by name; but, as usual, they did not recognize her, and, in the same manner as heretofore described, had to be convinced, whilst she again rehearsed her wonderful experience. Presently she said: "I'm going to hunt up some of the others, and I'm going to ask this lady to sing for you while I am gone. She's brought her autoharp with her." [Illustration: SHEET MUSIC THE SONGS MY MOTHER SANG. Words and Music by Mrs. FLORENCE ROBERTS. DUET Or SOLO. 1. One day I found a precious book Containing many a gem Of song my mother used to sing It takes me back again Across the vista of the years, When, by her loving voice, Melodious invitation came To make the Lord my choice. 2. She sang about the previous blood Christ shed on Calvary; And how, to save our souls from hell, He died in agony. "Come, sinners, to the gospel feast" Methinks I hear her still Singing, as silently she prayed "Lord, break that stubborn will." 3. This blessed soldier of the cross To her reward has gone; But oh, the tender memories She left in sacred song. And, tho' I wandered far from God, And wasted many years, The songs my mother used to sing Will oft-times bring the tears.]