'God saves the world by the new blood, the children. To take her child from her, would be to do what you could to damn her.' 'It doesn't look much like salvation there.' 'You mustn't interfere with God's thousand years any more than his one day.' 'Are you sure she is the mother?' I asked. 'Yes. I would not have left the child with her otherwise.' 'What would you have done with it? Got it into some orphan asylum?--or the Foundling perhaps?' 'Never,' he answered. 'All those societies are wretched inventions for escape from the right way. There ought not to be an orphan asylum in the kingdom.' 'What! Would you put them all down then?' 'God forbid. But I would, if I could, make them all useless.' 'How could you do that?' 'I would merely enlighten the hearts of childless people as to their privileges.' 'Which are?' 'To be fathers and mothers to the fatherless and motherless.' 'I have often wondered why more of them did not adopt children. Why don't they?' 'For various reasons which a real love to child nature would blow to the winds--all comprised in this, that such a child would not be their own child. As if ever a child could be their own! That a child is God's is of rather more consequence than whether it is born of this or that couple. Their hearts would surely be glad when they went into heaven to have the angels of the little ones that always behold the face of their Father coming round them, though they were not exactly their father and mother.' 'I don't know what the passage you refer to means.' 'Neither do I. But it must mean something, if He said it. Are you a clergyman?' 'No. I am only a poor teacher of mathematics and poetry, shown up the back stairs into the nurseries of great houses.' 'A grand chance, if I may use the word.' 'I do try to wake a little enthusiasm in the sons and daughters--without much success, I fear.' 'Will you come and see me?' he said. 'With much pleasure. But, as I have given you an answer, you owe me one.' 'I do.' 'Have you adopted a child?' 'No.' 'Then you have some of your own?' 'No.' 'Then, excuse me, but why the warmth of your remarks on those who--' 'I think I shall be able to satisfy you on that point, if we draw to each other. Meantime I must leave you. Could you come to-morrow evening?' 'With pleasure.' We arranged the hour and parted. I saw him walk into a low public-house, and went home. At the time appointed, I rang the bell, and was led by an elderly woman up the stair, and shown into a large room on the first-floor--poorly furnished, and with many signs of bachelor-carelessness. Mr. Falconer rose from an old hair-covered sofa to meet me as I entered. I will first tell my reader something of his personal appearance.