THE heart's-ease. 135 



perity. And thus delicately would he insinuate 

 the comfort which my fretful spirit was unwilhng 

 to receive in a more direct way. 



Tlie last Christmas that D. celebrated with the 

 militant church on earth, will long be remembered 

 by those who passed it with him. It fell on a Sun- 

 day ; and he had busied himself much on behalf of 

 his poor children, the wild little Irish, who attended 

 our dear schools. It is customary, on the Sabbath, 

 to give each child, on leaving the school, a thick 

 slice of bread and butter, except in cases of flagrant 

 misconduct, when the culprits must march past the 

 tempting board empiy-handed. Tiie importance of 

 this boon cannot be appreciated, but by those who 

 know something of the squalid misery that pervades 

 St. Giles, and that very few of our children tasted 

 any thing better than half a meal of potatoes on any- 

 day throughout the week. A good piece of well 

 buttered bread is a prodigious feast to them. 

 However on the day in question, D., as if conscious 

 that it was his last time of celebrating the happy 

 season among them, provided, for the afternoon, a 

 more luxurious entertainment. He filled his blue 

 bag with excellent plum-cake, and merrily remarked 

 to me, that for once all his clients would be satisfied 

 with its contents. To this he added the more dur- 

 able gift of some small books and tracts ; and very- 

 delightful it was to us, the teachers, as we stood 

 about him, to witness the reciprocal looks of love 



