Oh for the humblest tuck-shop where a mug of hot coffee and a snack could be had by a homeless wanderer; and as I thought and plodded savagely on, collar up, hands in pockets, through the black tangles of that endless wood, suddenly the sound of wailing children caught my ear! It was the softest, saddest music ever mortal listened to.

It was as though scores of babes in pain were dropping to sleep on their mothers' breasts, and all hushing their sorrows with one accord in a common melancholy chorus.

I stood spell-bound at that elfin wailing, the first sound to break the deathly stillness of the road for an hour or more, and my blood tingled as I listened to it.

Nevertheless, here was what I was looking for; where there were weeping children there must be habitations, and shelter, and--splendid thought!--supper.

Poor little babes! their crying was the deadliest, sweetest thing in sorrows I ever listened to.