A fragment of a verse, if nothing more, we were sure to get from her; and the mutilations did not trouble her, as she was not conscious of them. I saw, upon this occasion, she was bent upon getting possession of _this_ verse; and I therefore took care to repeat it distinctly two or three times. Next week, when it came to her turn, she repeated, in a triumphant voice, as if she thought her verse _now_ as good as any one’s—“Fear not, little flock; yer Father will be very ’appy to give yer the kingdom.” The narratives of Scripture, when explained and illustrated, interest them more than any story-book that I have ever found. The pressure of their domestic duties prevents many of them from attending a place of worship; and the imperfect way in which they read, obliges them to give more attention to the words than to the sense, and keeps their stock of book-knowledge very small. The history of Daniel in the lion’s den has the same charm for them as for children. I remember once, when reading the verse—“Then said Daniel unto the king, O king, live for ever.” I said, these words strikingly shewed how perfectly calm and self-possessed the prophet was. We might have supposed, from the terrible position in which he was, that he would have said at once, “Oh, take me away from this dreadful place!” but instead of that, he did not even forget to preface his answer to the king with the usual courtly phrase, “O king, live for ever.” After the meeting was over, I observed two women standing together, and talking about this. One of them was an Irishwoman, and a professed Roman Catholic. She was saying to the other—“And jist to think now, that he should have minded his manners, and all, at sich a time as that.” Little expressions of this kind are not only amusing, but valuable as a criterion by which to judge how far the women understand what is said, and are interested in it. A friend of mine, who attended the meeting once, was so much diverted by some of these original sayings and doings, that she said afterwards—“I am afraid you must find the society of polite people, who never say or do anything but what is strictly correct, rather dull after this.” CHAPTER VII. Giving and Receiving. “The world’s a room of sickness, where each heart Knows its own anguish and unrest! The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, Is his who skills of comfort best; Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone Enfeebled spirits own, And love to raise the languid eye, When, like an angel’s wing, they feel him fleeting by.” KEBLE.