"So leave, oh! leave the children To ignorance and woe, And I'll come in and teach them The way that they should go." CHARLES MACKAY. --_Souls of the Children._ CHAPTER I. _HIS BROTHER--THE PHILANTHROPIST._ As Robin was standing rubbing his tear-stained eyes outside the church door, a man, who considered himself a philanthropist, but was not, passed by. He saw the disreputable-looking child, observed that he stood almost inside the church porch, and thought it a nice opportunity for holding forth to this young sinner on the error of his ways. Judging correctly by Robin's outward appearance that he was a little scapegrace, a regular scamp of the streets, and assuming incorrectly that he was hardened within, he set to work on the much-practised principle of making hard, harder. "Come, come, my lad, what are you idling there for? If you don't want to go into the church you had better be off about your business. Don't you know now"--this in a would-be patronising tone--"that idling is very sinful?" While the gentleman was speaking, Robin had been running his bright eyes all over him, and inwardly speculating how best he might secure his pocket handkerchief: finding, however, that he was expected to reply, he hung his head and said, "Dunno." "You don't know!" repeated the gentleman, getting wroth. "Did your mother never tell you that verse out of the Bible--'If a man will not work, neither shall he eat?'" "Dunno," said Robin, more helplessly than before. "Gracious me! what ignorance, and in a Christian land! Where do you go to school, lad?" "Doesn't go nowheres," said Robin. "But you are over the age; the Board ought to know of this. What's your home address?" taking out his pocket-book. "Eh?" questioned Robin. "Don't you understand me, child? Where do you sleep at night?" "Hany wheres." "Well, where?" "Nowheres in 'ticlar." The gentleman returned his pocket-book to the seclusion of his pocket in a mild, not an acute, fit of despair. "Did not suppose there was such a case left in London--a homeless child! Really very interesting; wonder what his ideas of religion are?" This man never gave a thought to the poor little starving body. "Now, my lad, you have heard of God, of course?" "Yes, zir." "Ah! What do you know about Him?" "Don't know nothink but His name--give us a 'ap'ny, zir." "Gracious me! what depravity! Confesses that he knows nothing of God, and in the same breath asks for a halfpenny." This the gentleman whispered to himself; aloud, he said, "Listen, boy, I am really anxious to help you, but I make it a rule never to give to beggars. You are a strong lad, and should work for your living. But your ignorance is frightful; you tell me to my face you know nothing of your Creator. Now you must go to school--Will you? I will give you the address of one that will receive you."