The benevolent-looking old gentleman who had taken the superintendence of the soup department as a labour of love, told me that there had been a woman there by half-past five that morning, who had come four miles for some coffee.

There was a poor fellow breakfasting in the shed at the same time; and he gave the woman a thick shive of his bread as she went away.

He mentioned other instances of the same humane feeling; and he said, "After what I have seen of them here, I say, 'Let me fall into the hands of the poor.'" "They who, half-fed, feed the breadless, in the travail of distress; They who, taking from a little, give to those who still have less; They who, needy, yet can pity when they look on greater need; These are Charity's disciples,--these are Mercy's sons indeed." We returned to the middle of the town just as the shopkeepers in Friargate were beginning to take their shutters down.

I had another engagement at half-past nine.

A member of the Trinity Ward Relief Committee, who is master of the Catholic school in that ward, had offered to go with me to visit some distressed people who were under his care in that part of the town.