"You see, he is so good, and old, and kind, and earns so much, that since my poor husband died he's been such a stay. And now for him, too, to be in a 'osspital it does seem so hard! I can't help taking on a bit, about it; for he never seemed like other boys, playing and liking to run about the streets; for all he thinks about is to earn money and bring it home. Once he brought me five shillings and three-pence halfpenny in one week, as much as I can make myself some times with the mangle; and then, poor boy, he'd pull off his jacket and wet soppy boots, and turn away at that handle, after tramping about through the cold muddy streets all day. He's never tired, he says, and he lights my bit of fire of a morning, and helps wash his brothers, and now--oh! what shall I do?" But the thought of her boy's suffering made the poor woman dry her eyes, and by the time she was composed we were back again in the street where Guy's Hospital stands, and then, after muttering a hope that Sammy would mind his brother Pete didn't set his pinafore a fire, the mother entered the building, and we parted. "And how's the leg, Bill?" I asked him some time later. "A'most well, mum, ony I can't get it quite straight yet, being a bit drawn; but it never hurts now." "Down by Brick Lane still?" "No, ma'am; mother lives close by Camberwell, in one o' them streets out o' Walworth Road, and does clear starching now; and as soon as the leg gets quite well I'm a-going to have a barrer." But his ambition was never gratified, for soon after the little hero was in a respectable situation and doing well. CHAPTER FOUR. A MORNING WITH MISERY. I give these as so many random recollections of my life or narratives related to me from time to time, and I have, as being more in keeping with the mood in which they are written, naturally given prominence to those which lean towards the sad and pathetic side of life. My dealings with little Bill encouraged me to visit here and there in the poorer portions of London, at first in fear and trembling, for the rougher men that hung about the entrances to the courts and often blocked the way inspired me with horror and dread, but somehow before long I found that I had become known, and I and my basket were welcome visitors in many a dark home, and at last I had no hesitation in penetrating the worst portions of that doleful district, back of Drury Lane and the portion swept away to make room for the Courts of Justice. I remember well one morning that I had with misery in its haunts and my search for a house of whose occupants I had been told. I had been considering for some few minutes rather at fault, when I came upon a group of boys engaged in a game of buttons upon the pavement, and my inquiring for Burt's Buildings created quite a little scene of excitement. "Burt's Buildings, ma'am?" said one, as all rose to stare at me. "It's first turning to the left after you gets down Popper's Court."