He enters through a play-yard, where half a dozen little fellows, not very fashionable, though quite decent in their attire, are amusing themselves with tops and balls, and, if noise is a test of comfort, they are very happy. Ascending an outside stair, he turns into a somewhat spacious apartment. The roof indeed is not lathed and plastered, but there is all the more ventilation. Everywhere, although things are homely enough, there is an air of perfect cleanliness. Two or three excellent maps hang across and divide the apartment, in one end of which are the boys, in the other the girls. Let him look at either class, and what a strange study for the physiognomist or phrenologist are the faces and foreheads of the pupils. Some have countenances on which the traces of very early hard life are still visible; the lines of misery are scarcely yet effaced. There are others, free, good brows, which give unmistakeable evidence of shrewdness and talent; but on every face there is contentment. The teachers in both divisions are busy at the usual lessons; but, at the stranger’s visit, the classes are united, and an exercise is gone through by individuals of either sex, chosen promiscuously. In the back seat there starts up a little fellow about twelve years and a half, who, caught half-naked, begging through the streets some fifteen months ago, can read his Bible like the best of us; another reads a verse or two of poetry; a third small youth, whose only occupation, till within a year or so, was selling matches through the streets, is proved, after trial, to be far the best speller in the place, where there are not a few very good ones, and so on. The procedure is as orderly, and the advancement in secular and Christian knowledge, of these once outcast and forsaken children--now clothed and in their right mind--is as great as in any of the best public schools; and seems to have been _at least_ as rapid as among the children of what are called the respectable classes of society. And now a hymn is sung by all united, and, as they sit and sing, with folded arms and serious looks, there is enough, whether in the whole scene, or in the music so touchingly chanted, to send something like a tear into the corner of the eye. This over, the ranks are marshalled, and then pass down to the room below, where dinner waits; and, standing silently over the homely but substantial fare, a sign is made, when every eye is closed, and grace is said aloud. Enjoying themselves over their humble meal, our visitor leaves them, and heartily joins us in recommending a visit to such a scene, and inviting public attention to the principles on which these poor children are made what they are. The leading and moving principle is that of kindness and love--the endeavouring by all means to