'I heard the voice of Jesus say, "I am this dark world's Light; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright." I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my Star, my Sun; And in that Light of life I'll walk Till travelling days are done.' CHAPTER I. DWELLING IN DARKNESS. 'Not even the tenderest heart, and next our own, cold too!' OME, Chrissie, we must go home; little Nat is so tired, and I can't feel my hands in this biting wind. Give me Tony's string, and take the ha'pence, child. How much is it?' 'One, two, three, fourpence ha'penny, grandfather, and I have fivepence. Yes, I'm ready, and, oh, I am very So saying, the speaker, a frail, stunted-looking little girl, took some coppers from the hat of the old blind man at her side, and, after stowing them away with great care under some few remaining primroses in her basket, slipped her hand into his, and the three left their accus tomed post near one of the Hyde Park gates, and turned to seek the shelter of their home. Nat, a pale little lad about seven years old, insisted on carrying his sister's basket, now, happily, nearly cleared of its fragrant load. Though spring was well advanced by almanac rules, it was far colder than it had been in the early days of January, and the piercing east wind chilled one's blood and one's hopes together, coming, as it did, just when there was reason to expect pleasant genial spring days. The early shrubs in the Park, which had been tempted into opening their flower-buds during a deceitful spell of mild weather, now looked as if they were bitterly repenting such rashness, and devoutly wished the tender petals safe under their little brown coats again. The very evergreens shivered in the wind, though they had bravely encountered a hard winter. It was scarcely five o'clock, yet few people were out, and those who had ventured for a drive in open carriages soon turned homeward, while the riders in the Row could hardly hold their horses' reins. A fine sleet began to strike spitefully, like bits of glass, in people's faces, and even those most comfortably clad, or who, muffled in fur, rolled by in luxurious carriages, had epithets at hand, not the most civil, respecting our English climate. The blind man and his grandchildren, however, patiently trudged home in silence, far too much inured to hardships to think of making any complaint of the weather. The wide thoroughfares were soon exchanged for gloomy back streets, and finally for Lamb Court, a locality which, though not nearly so bad as many in our great city, looked the reverse of inviting this wintry afternoon. The houses were old and dilapidated, the street ill-paved and full of pools of muddy water, and the rain found its way from off the roofs, if not by an orthodox, certainly by a direct route. What matter though it streamed heavily in its descent on the heads of the luckless passersby! Here and there some ragged clothing, which, though it had possibly been washed, could scarcely have been described as clean, dangled from the upper windows. Water was a scarce luxury here, soap much scarcer, and, as a result, cleanliness was almost unknown. Of the sanitary state of such dwellings inquire not. Why should you? Nobody cared, and nobody either knew or spoke about it. Sometimes, however, the fierce and awful voice of fever would speak in ringing tones in those homes of the rich, not so far off, into which it had stealthily crept from these haunts of poverty, startling the authorities into a tardy and often but superficial search after its cause. But no fever raged now in Lamb Court, and no one paid any heed to its poor, and, of course,' disreputable inhabitants. Certainly most of the wretched dwellers therein richly deserved the ill name they all received as a class. Born to a life of poverty and ignorance, often bordering on starvation and heathenism, and frequently with a further inheritance of crime and disgrace, what wonder that they failed not to furnish, year by year, a constant relay of thieves, vagabonds, and 'roughs,' which make up the dangerous class' of our London population? Drunkenness was at the root of most of the evil. It formed the earliest temptation, and soon the habitual sin, and thus a bar to all hope of happiness and prosperity. Even here, however, all was not perfect darkness. Like stars in a midnight sky, there glittered now and then the light of heavenly truth, reflected in some human heart, and shedding its healing ray amid surrounding darkness. Rare, very rare, it is true, were such shining lights, but they were not unknown, and were all the more precious amid such scenes of sorrow, and pain, and sin. Picking his way carefully along the broken pathway, Tony, a terrier more remarkable for certain canine virtues than for personal beauty, led the feeble steps of his sightless master in tolerable safety. With his tail between his legs, his little paws soaked with cold rain, his rough coat mud-bespattered and dripping, the faithful little creature hurried no faster towards his well-known shelter than his master could easi y follow, and his brown eyes were now and then turned wistfully backwards to watch the somewhat uncertain footsteps. Their safety was now his sole responsibility, as he pattered up the uneven and creaking staircase of one of the poorest lodging-houses in the squalid street, for Chrissie and Nat had tarried at the little corner shop, marketing. The wearied old man, glad to reach even so poor a |