going round with her to show her where the poor hid themselves. They
went down many streets, and the lady distributed her parcels. Then
they came to one of the worst, a very narrow street. The coachman
gave it one glance.

"Sorry, my lady," said the coachman, "but the carriage won't go
down."

The lady sighed.

"I am afraid we shall have to leave it," she said.

So the gallant greys dashed past.

Where the real poor creep I fear there is no room for Lady
Bountiful's fine coach. The ways are very narrow--wide enough only
for little Sister Pity, stealing softly.

I put it to my friend, the curate:

"But if all this charity is, as you say, so useless; if it touches
but the fringe; if it makes the evil worse, what would you do?"

[And questions a Man of Thought]

"I would substitute Justice," he answered; "there would be no need
for Charity."


"But it is so delightful to give," I answered.