old woman who has to go out to daily work must need her money as
soon as it is earned. I am very sorry."

My husband did not reply for some time. My words appeared to have
made considerable impression on his mind.

"Do you know where Polly lives?" he inquired at length.

"No; but I will ask the girl." And immediately ringing the bell, I
made inquiries as to where Polly lived; but no one in the house
knew.

"It cannot be helped now," said my husband, in a tone of regret.
"But I would be more thoughtful in future. The poor always have need
of their money. Their daily labour rarely does more than supply
their daily wants. I can never forget a circumstance that occurred
when I was a boy. My mother was left a widow when I was but nine
years old--and she was poor. It was by the labour of her hands that
she obtained shelter and food for herself and three little ones.

"Once, I remember the occurrence as if it had taken place yesterday,
we were out of money and food. At breakfast-time our last morsel was
eaten, and we went through the long day without a mouthful of bread.
We all grew very hungry by night; but our mother encouraged us to be
patient a little and a little while longer, until she finished the
garment she was making, when she would take that and some other work
home to a lady who would pay her for the work. Then, she said, we
should have a nice supper. At last the work was finished, and I went
with my mother to help carry it home, for she was weak and sickly,
and even a light burden fatigued her. The lady for whom she had made