There was many a fine, intelligent young face hurried blushing through that maze--many a bonny lad and lass who will be heard of honourably hereafter.

The variety of utensils presented showed that some of the poor souls had been hard put to it for things to fetch their soup in.

One brought a pitcher; another a bowl; and another a tin can, a world too big for what it had to hold.

"Yo mun mind th' jug," said one old woman; "it's cracked, an' it's noan o' mine." "Will ye bring me some ?" said a little, light- haired lass, holding up her rosy neb to the soupmaster.

"Aw want a ha'poth," said a lad with a three-quart can in his hand.