The Mrs A— mentioned in a former chapter was there: she had become a most zealous champion of mine. I cannot help laughing now at the recollection of her tall, commanding figure, as she sat that evening bolt upright in her chair, looking round with an air of defiance, as much as to say, “Let me see any one dare to make a noise.” If a chair creaked, or scissors dropped, her head was round in an instant. A little, unfortunate boy, about four years of age, who came with his mother because he could not be left at home, was singled out as her special victim. He could not move, however quietly, without her threatening face and finger being directed towards him. She seemed to exercise some mysterious spell over him, as he scarcely withdrew his eyes from her; and at last, when a halfpenny rolled off his lap under the table, he instantly followed it, and remained out of sight, as if unable to face her again after _that_. The energy of her character communicated itself to her needle. Presently this noisy needle stopped. I did not notice it at first, thinking that, perhaps, she was watching some fresh victim; but, as she continued idle, I looked up from my book, and said, “Are you waiting for anything, Mrs A—, that I can give you?” “Why, ma’am, you see I forgot to bring the sleeves out of the box, when I fetched my work, and I can’t go on any longer without ’em; but I have got such thick shoes on, I thought I should make such a racket in fetching ’em, that I should upset you altogether, and I had rather not finish my work than do that.” I knew what a self-denial it must be to her not to drive on to the end of her work, when she had intended to do so; and I appreciated her kind consideration accordingly. It has been quaintly said, that “there are more points in which a Queen resembles her washer woman than in which she does not.” Without dwelling upon these extremes, nothing is more certain than that whenever a lady goes amongst the poor, hoping to benefit them by her influence, she must be impressed much more by the points of resemblance that exist between them, than by the points of difference. Mothers’ Societies have a peculiar advantage in this respect. The sufferings and joys attendant on the mother’s life are common to all, and enable us to realise, more than any other circumstance or relation in life, that we are all children of one great family. The best lessons we can find for our poor sisters will be always those which we learn from our own hearts—from our own actual every-day experience. Sometimes I have repeated a portion of Scripture with them, which I had previously read with my own children; telling them what remarks I made upon it, and what the children said about it. This, besides interesting and amusing them more than a common explanation, has a better effect than saying, “You should teach your children so and so.”