Sabbath after Sabbath rolled on, and rain or shine my six boys were always in their places. They had learned to love the school, especially the sweet hymns; and their quick sympathies had gone out to one who at least always tried to treat them gently and kindly. Of their affection I had many unmistakable proofs. Once I remember walking in one of the quiet streets. I was suddenly startled by three sonorous cheers, and looking up I saw the "Marquis," Andrew Jackson, and Byron Clarke. Though not precisely the most agreeable greeting for a young lady, I could not in my heart do less than wave a return. Again, they frequently brought to our door presents of flowers and fruit. In one instance the latter bore such a striking resemblance to some rosy-cheeked apples in a neighbor's orchard that I was forced to reprove the boy, and the next Sabbath took for our "lesson talk" the eighth commandment. Not many days after the same child made his appearance at the kitchen, his hands filled with the first pond-lilies of the season; and as he gave them to me he said, "There, Miss Esther, you will like them, for _they's honest; God growed them in the outlet_." Never, from that day to this, have flowers brought more true gladness to my heart than did those pure white blossoms, plucked by swarthy hands in the "outlet" where "God growed them." We established a missionary society among them, and many a penny, previously devoted to fire-crackers and the like, now found its way down the red chimney of our "savings bank." Poor Bill Jones had less to give than any of the boys, and this I plainly saw troubled him a great deal. He had stopped dancing "Jim Crow," first on Sabbath, and of late on week-days; and this being his chief source of revenue, his spare pennies were few and far between. One day, with a bright face, he asked me "if it was not right to do good on Sundays?" Of course I replied yes; and then "if it was wrong to take money for doing good on Sundays?" This was a nice distinction--one which I felt him not capable of understanding should I attempt it. So I simply said, "No, I thought not." Though feeling rather curious, I had no opportunity just then of asking as to these pious earnings. Next Sabbath the teachers were requested to remain a moment. A gentleman arose, not a member of our school, saying that a few hours since he had witnessed a scene which had so touched his heart that he could not forbear cheering us with the glad tidings. Passing the "Harrison House," he noticed that the invariable group of Sunday-noon loungers had deserted their post. Just then his ear was caught by a clear melodious voice singing. It seemed to come from the bar-room. Yes, as he drew near, from the open windows of that den of pollution floated out on the summer air the words: "Watchman, tell as of the night, What its signs of promise are."