After the benediction, before we had hardly thought of turning in our places, we felt the pressure of a baby’s hand. Little Clara, aged five, had hastened to us. She had come to church alone. It was sweet to look at her and know what an angel of light she is. Her mother, though an invalid, takes in washing. She hires some one to carry the clothes. Clara wishes to grow. “Why?” “So I can tote de clothes.” In former days, long before she came to earth, her parents were prosperous. They bought land and built two houses, one for themselves and one to rent. Her father, still in the prime of life, is paralyzed and blind. Day after day he sits by the fire, unable to read, or work, or move. We have seen his blind, twitching face light tenderly at the touch of his only child. Clara led us along slowly, and we chatted with the missionary and her friends. One young lady has bought land, built a house for herself and furnished it well with carpet and organ. She is helping her sisters in their education. We met many whose friends were at school. We shook hands with the good deacons. Some young girls were waiting at home for us. They wished to talk about “going North.” As soon as they had left, a friend sent by us an orange to Mrs. Knowles. In her one dark room, over a smoky fireplace, she was sitting, paralyzed, rheumatic and very “painy,” without kith or kin to help her, dependent on neighbors for food, wood and water; her lot did not seem an enviable one. “The children are mighty kind to me.” Boys come in and cut a stick of wood at a time. She cooks meal, her chief article of food, in three different ways, “so as to have a little variety, you know.” Often suffers for “suthing t’eat;” seldom knows whence the next dinner will come. As we left the room we heard crying. Leaning by the fence, alone and screaming, was a little girl. “What is it?” “A boy threw a rock and hit me here,” showing her side. “Where is your home?” “Right over yonder.” “Shall I take you there?” “No; mother is not there.” It proved that her sister and friend were frolicking and helping (?) Mrs. Knowles. Her sister answered the appeal for help. “Hush, Queen; quit making such a fuss.” The friend explained: “She never did like to be hit by a rock, nohow.” We noticed the feet of the friend. A piece of leather tied around them, showing the bare toes. Many children can not go to Sunday-school because they have no shoes.