“How is it, then, that your husbands let you come here?” “Why, ma’am, we goes on with our work here; and it helps us to get many a nice bit of clothes, that we should have to go without if we didn’t get them here, by paying a little at a time; and the children, too, you see, ma’am, is mostly in bed before we come.” “Do you not think that some of you could persuade your husbands to go to church with you, for once?” They shook their heads, and said they were afraid not. There were a few in the room who said they would go, if they could. I told them, if they would express to me what their wishes were, I would adopt any plan they liked best. With the exception of about six or eight, they said they would rather the meeting were continued as usual. “If that is the case,” I replied, “I will be here at the usual time next week, to meet any of you who cannot make it convenient to attend any place of worship; but remember, we must have no work done. I should not think that right on such a day.” When I entered the room the following week, I found thirty of the poor mothers assembled. We sat and chatted together for about a quarter of an hour; for we felt, on that occasion, that we were not bound to observe our rules with our usual strictness. I intended to read about our Saviour’s entrance into Jerusalem, and to dwell particularly on the tears He shed in the prospect of the destruction of that city, shewing from this how unwillingly God allowed His judgments to descend upon a nation, and that “He would rather they would turn from their wickedness and live.” The rest of the evening I thought we could occupy in the relation of a few anecdotes of soldiers, that had reached me from the seat of war. I had just begun to read, when the door opened, and a woman, passing hastily up the room, took her seat on a low box by the side of the fire. She leaned forward, resting her head on her arms, and began to weep bitterly. I looked up for an explanation. One of the women said, “She lost her baby, ma’am, a day or two ago, and she takes on terribly about it.” We all sat silently for some minutes, for we felt the sacredness of the presence of grief; they were precious minutes to me, full of earnest thought and feeling.