I should be afraid of the accusation of “telling as new what everybody knows,” if I had not so often seen good and excellent people, from whom I could learn much on most other points, almost entirely fail in anything which they attempted amongst the poor, just because they did not recognise the fact that the law of “doing as we would be done by” applies as much to our intercourse with the poor as with our equals. I remember a case in point. One of our poor mothers had for some months brought with her a very fine baby. He was a beautiful child, and so sweet-tempered, that she had no difficulty in keeping him quiet. She was very proud of him, of course, and used to seat him on the table, and resort to a variety of little manœuvres to induce us to notice and praise him. But when he began to cut his teeth, a sad change occurred. He became thin and pale, and so did the poor mother, through her night-watching, and hard work; and we could hardly recognise in them the bright child and happy mother we used to see. At last, the little fair head became covered with sores—very sorrowful to witness; and, instead of now shewing off her child, the poor stricken mother concealed him as much as possible with her shawl, and sat apart from the rest of the company. One evening, a visitor came in and staid about an hour with us. She evidently had not been much accustomed to such society, and did not feel at home in it. Whilst I was taking the money for the work, she tried to talk to some of the women, but I saw that she found great difficulty in it. Presently, a feeble cry attracted her attention to the poor baby; with a look of great disgust, she said to the mother— “Why, what have you been doing with that child’s head?” “What did you say, ma’am?” answered the mother, hoping, I suppose, that she had mistaken the question. It was repeated. The mother looked very angry, and replied, “I hav’n’t been doing of nothing with it. I suppose rich people’s babies get bad heads, sometimes, as well as poor people’s?” Many in the room sympathised with her, as I plainly saw, when looking up from my account-book. It seemed as if an evil spirit had suddenly alighted amongst us, and taken possession of us all; for every countenance looked more or less angry. Such is the wonderful power of a few words. When shall we ever duly estimate the omnipotence of words? I had finished my accounts, so I rose from my seat, and went across the room to fetch something that I did _not_ want; and, as I passed the offending head, I stroked the little pale face, and said— “Poor baby! how sad it is that it must begin to suffer so soon, and give its poor mother so many anxious nights and weary days.” The baby smiled upon me its accustomed smile; and, by the time I was back to my seat, I saw the mother’s head bent over the child; the quiet tears were dropping upon its face, and the evil spirit was gone.