It is more than ten years ago since I first saw her whom I now call Orphan Bess, and her baby sister. The first great shadow had then fallen upon her home, and I had to attend the funeral. This was in March, 1878. A very pale, fragile child our little maid was then, and her baby sister was more delicate still. She then sat on the floor, wondering at the tears of her mother, frightened at the strange faces and people that came to bear her father away, and trying to still the baby, which was wailing in the saddest tones. Oh, how unfit to be thrown on the world--the cold, rough world--without the strong arm of the father, and only the mother to shield! But a Greater Arm than the earthly father supported and maintained, and they were not left alone. A few months later the baby died, and Bess and the mother were left again. Years rolled on, and the mother and child struggled on together, and the promise of Him who cares for the widow and fatherless was proved faithful and true in their needs. But a darker cloud than ever now came, when the mother laid down and died. Ten years had rolled away, and in March, 1888, this great blow came upon Bess. These years had made a great change in our little maid, and when we saw her on the day of the funeral she seemed much altered--still pale and thin, small and fragile, and very deaf. I have seen many affecting sights and many sorrowful cases in my journey through life, but as we stood around the grave of the departed mother and father of Bess, in St. Thomas's churchyard, at Woolwich, on the 17th of March, 1888, I saw the saddest sight of all. The open grave, containing the remains of the father; the coffin ready to be lowered into it, containing the dead mother; and the pale, thin, deaf orphan, standing alone in the world. The blinding snow fell around, and the wind blew piercingly through the graveyard. A large crowd of strange faces, and the chief object of interest the orphan child. What wonder, then, that the child, frightened and trembling, should turn her face away from the coffin and crowd, and hide her sobs in the dress of a kind woman near? Alone in the world now, yet not alone. The hymn commencing, "For ever with the Lord," is sung softly, and as the strains are heard, we remember that "the Lord liveth." Though father and mother are dead, yet "the Lord liveth," who has promised to look to the orphan, and whose eyes are ever upon the needy. What a position to occupy! No father, no mother, no home, unable to hear, a helpless orphan girl cast upon the world! The words of the poet came into my mind at the moment-- "What is home without a mother? What are all the joys we meet, When her gentle smile no longer Greets the coming of our feet?"