she 'ad, that I would, miss.' They are firmly affectionate, and we have had very good traces the last day or two." One instance of this kindliness struck me a good deal the afternoon I was there. At four o'clock, Jemima Finn, a big laundry girl, brought "the ladies a tiny jug of cream for their tea from a humble dairy in a street near by; and I was told that every day, since their arrival to live in Moon Street, night and morning had cream been sent. At first "the lady" had thanked the sender, but explained that they could not afford themselves such a luxury; but when the answer came that no payment was expected, and that if they would accept it it would be a pleasure to give them what they had been used to, the lady and her helper drank with gladness the tea with its gift cream; and perhaps the prettiest part of this little episode was the final speech on the subject by the donor: "It's all I can do to show you how we feel your coming to live with us." I began at the end of the story, so before I leave off I will tell you what led to this work, and then what remains to be done. Some years ago "the lady" of the laundry girls and a friend had become Visitors in one of the central London Workhouse Infirmaries, and there, in constant intercourse with the women patients, they had gradually learnt the extreme difficulties of their lives. Most of them came from one quarter; many of them were laundresses; all of them knew sin and shame, and their story was always the same. Turned out, or left to shift for themselves, with no respectable lodgings to be had, and nowhere but the public-house to go to for their dinners and recreation, they sometimes payed highly for a chair in a friend's room, and were exposed to every kind of temptation and degradation. In the summer time they lived extravagantly on their high wages; in the winter starved, or worse. And all this came before the eyes of "the lady" and her friend when they went to look after a young woman who had been a long time in one of their wards. Their visit fell in the dinner-hour, and they met unkempt laundry women trooping out for their dinners, and half-drunk women, whom they had known in the Infirmary, lolling about the street. Unsavoury fish was hawking on one side, a woman sat on a doorstep selling out portions of a big pie on the other, and public-houses were conveniently near for all drinking purposes. Clearly an eating-house and a lodging-house for the single women among the laundresses was needed. If the women were to be called to a higher life, their response must at least be made a possibility. "But". in the words of an entry I find in a chronicle of this uphill work-“ difficulty after difficulty came in the way; the neighbourhood was far from all likely to join in the scheme; we had no experience, and only 51. of money to start with. However, the plan would not be put aside." Three friends entered warmly into the plan, a consultation was held, and it was decided to take two first-floor rooms in a central street, and so provide a place for the laundresses to eat their dinners, and where classes might be held-in fact, a pied à terre for the work that was to be. A band of workers was gradually enrolled of heads and subs, undertaking certain days and diverse duties. Reading in laundries on ironing days; visiting in the homes (!); a penny bank; children's, girls', and women's classes; meetings, with work, reading, and music; and this has been patiently carried on through more discouragements than I have time to mention; through good report and evil report; through the old story of failure and treachery within the camp, and alternate coldness and sharp opposition from without; and, despite all this, it has lived and grown-as all work must do that is needed and that is living work. At length, in June, 1879, a whole. house was taken and fitted up as coffee and lodging-house, and such has been its success that now more room is urgently called for. Only ten lodgers can be taken in at present, and until there is a separate eating-room, with an independent entrance, men have to be content with eating their dinners only on the premises, and have to buy their suppers and carry them away, as after a certain hour no men are allowed to remain in the coffee-house, which is also a lodging-house. I said I could. not here record all the discouragements of the way the workers met with; but I cannot resist quoting from the chronicle before mentioned some entries that touched me considerably; and with these, and a few words from the laundresses themselves, I will close a paper which I fear may have been too long, but which will not have failed in its object if it awakens practical interest in this effort-such interest as may enable "the lady" to gain her desire, and take the second house, and welcome the would-be lodgers and customers, to whom at present she must say, "We have no room." Entry No. 1 is dated Friday, November 15, 1878. "We visited the Laundresses in Moon Street, Race_Street, &c. Many promised to come to our Tea." "December 1st. only three came." A Tea was given, but "December 2nd. Tea for girls. About 22 came with shawls over their heads and smelling strongly of drink. One said, when she was asked if she would take the Pledge, that perhaps she would take it for a time, but wouldn't she break out on Boxing Day! We found four girls from 18 to 20 years old could neither read nor write, so we promised to teach them. We then sang with them until we broke up. I think on the whole some were pleased.' "Penny Reading, December 9th. On the whole this was a failure." "I called at Mrs. Fib's to beg her to let Sarah come to me. I think she and another girl from there will come next time. I had only one girl at my class to-day, and only three washerwomen would come up to tea. I had made the room very comfortable. "I hope I have not been premature in sug. gesting the Penny Bank; they seemed pleased about it. I told them there was no percentage. Mrs. Stout and Mrs. Brown will allow reading in their laundries. We must have patience for the next three months." "Such a number of girls arrived to-day; some were very wild. They turned out the gas! and before they separated there was great confusion. It all shows what need there is to try and improve them." "We had 22 to-day; they behave better, though still 'Whoop!' when a friend comes in." "To-day some were so naughty, giving sudden little yells, and whenever any one knocked calling out, Come in if you're fat! stay out if you're lean!'" 6 "March 4. There is so much fecklessness about the people here, so careless, and content to live in filth. "The girls told one of us that they wished they could be like the murderer Peace and be put in the waxworks." "A bad women's fight was going on to-day. A crowd of boys and girls formed a ring, and Betsy and Jemima had a regular stand-up fight. We separated them, and soon afterwards one after another of these girls came up stairs. Jemima's face all bleeding! but they were quite quiet with us, and sang nicely and did a great deal of mending." "It is too terrible to think of what goes on among the girls from twelve to sixteen. On Easter Day some one came in saying, 'There is Sally Dun blind drunk out there,' and so she was, the centre of a group of boys and girls all drunk. "The next day she told me that another girl had given her 'a drink,' a mere child of fourteen! She is one of the many girls I do not know what to do with; they would be willing to go to service, but I cannot answer any questions, and who would be willing to take girls from such a neighbourhood? and yet if they had earlier been sent away to some home or industrial school they would have been saved from what they now are." And now for a brighter entry-the last in 1880. From a summary of the year's work we read : "Though we cannot but regret many mistakes and faults of which we have been guilty in the manner of working, yet as we look back on the past year there are many causes of thankfulness. People seem to come to us as a matter of course for advice and help. "One young man told his fiancée he was glad she came to us; it would keep her safe and sober. "Seven out of the fourteen girls sent to Haberdashers' Hall are still training there well, and when Annie Lawrie came to see us dressed like the neatest of little maids, and told us how happy she was in service, and that she went to Haberdashers' Hall on Sundays, and we remembered the poor little halfstarved being she used to be, we felt that there at least was one young woman saved from the sin and misery which seem the natural lot of girls in this part. Annie's little sister is longing to go to be trained too: we want 17. to send her. "It is difficult to tell how much real influence we may have had on the all-prevailing evil of drunkenness, but I hope some few girls have learnt to know something of its evil, and to prefer evenings with us to evenings at the public-house. A great deal of good is done by teaching the value of money, and Mrs. Stones (the Mission Woman) has worked very effectively at this by the Penny Bank. "One woman saved 32s. for the expenses of her confinement. A man by denying himself in beer and tobacco saved enough to take himself and his wife into the country for a day or two at Bank Holiday time, and so on. "Then some good must have been done by the sale of ready-made clothes. The laundry people come in and buy as fast as we can supply, which, considering the paucity of under garments and decent clothing, is clearly a gain, and any one wishing to help in a small way might do so by sending us ready-made undergarments of unbleached calico. "The classes have improved in order. The gas is not turned out; there are no knockings of the wall, whoops, or cries of 'Come in if you're fat!' &c. The girls are learning to kneel when we have prayers, and sing almost reverently. Jemima Dash remarked critically, "The ladies are strict; why once it might have been almost murder in this room,' and I think the improvement is a fact. It touched me to hear in answer to some girl's remark, I wonder the ladies are not afraid to be out in a place like this at night,' another say, 'Every one knows them, and even the chaps stand back and make room for them, and I've 'eard them stop swearing.' "The Laundry Readers continue to be warmly welcomed, and now more laundries are open to us if we had more Readers. "The lodgings are far more popular and have sheltered many girls who, turned out to lodge where they could, would otherwise have had no respectable place to go to. Our entertainments and paying teas have been thronged. On August 2nd over 30 girls came, paying 4d. each; they were pleased with the food, and the 4d. a head cleared the cost. At the entertainment there were about 320 people, and 15s. worth of penny refreshments were sold, so the evening passed innocently enough in listening to music and drinking coffee." And now I must retract from my promise of letting the girls plead for themselves; for, on second thoughts, I feel as if it would be betraying their confidence to quote from their letters-the ill-spelt, ill-written scrawls written to "the lady" when taking her much-needed rest in the country -begging for classes to begin again, longing for her return. The difficulty I found in reading them did not wholly arise from the writing or spelling, as I puzzled over a petition to stay at a training home, “but I suppose I must go back and be what I was before," or disentangled from a confession of misdemeanours, the protest that the penitent did love "the lady," and would do better for her sake, but would tell her herself what she had been an' done" and would never do again; confessions fraught with something of the same pathos as those of Dr. Johnson, "Whether I have not lived resolving till the possibility of performing is past, I know not. God help me, I will try!" And again, eight years later, “I will not despair! Help me, help me, 0 my God!" You will confess that work is called for in this district of laundresses and brickfields; I hope I have shown that a beginning has been made, and for its development and permanent growth we ask for help and sympathy in prayer, service, money. SOPHIA M. PALMER. The Hon. S. M. Palmer, 30, Portland Place, London, W., will give any information desired. THE MOTHER WITH NINE SONS. From the Romaic. THERE were nine sons of their mother, and a daughter only one ; They have sent a ring to woo her from Salonica plain— Eight of the brethren loth were they, but Constantine was fain. O give her, give her, mother, into the far countrie, And come there weal, or come there woe, I will bring her back to thee. It fell that on the leap year all the nine brethren died : The mother went out often to sit by the grave-side, And over the grave-stones of eight she hath set cypress fair, Now Constantine heard this her cry in the place whereof was he— And never heed their telling, it is leasings that they tell." "Thou wottest, Arethusa, that back to home we fare?" "Yes, if the homesteads were not changed, and the highways not so bare." And I owe him to bring back again this weary soul of mine. (Arethusa knocks at the Mother's door.) "Now open, open, it is I, Arethusa, dear Minnie." "Is it Arethusa come again who is wed in the far countrie?" Open, open, mother mine; Arethusa, none but she, Wilt not believe me, mother dear? it is Arethusa sure." "Now put in thy betrothing-ring by the keyhole in the door- And straightway when the mother saw that self-same golden token H. F. BRAMWELL. NOTE.-There is a Servian form of this ballad, which differs significantly in some of its motives. The daughter, not the mother, is lonely and prays for help. Two angels are sent to raise up her brother Yovan. He does not ride "Hades," but brings for gifts a cake of grave-loam, and keepsakes of his shroud. Both mother and daughter die. The Greek version is almost pagan; the Servian, wholly Christian. The incidental resemblances to the Saga of Siegfried, to Lenore, and the Wife of Usher's Well, are obvious. No. 262.-VOL. XLIV. SKETCHES AND REMINISCENCES BY IVAN TOURGENIEFF. In the beginning of the present year a new daily paper, Poriadok (Order), was founded at St. Petersburg, and in the feuilletons of the first and fourth numbers appeared two short sketches by M. Tourgenieff, entitled "Sketches from my Note-book: Reminiscences, Personal and Other." They are now for the first time translated from the original Russian. In a few prefatory lines the author warns his readers against identifying the narrator too closely with the actual writer. As will be seen, the sketches are complete in themselves; but there is reason to suppose that from time to time other tales referring to the same olden times will be published. Nothing can exceed the delicacy with which the portraits of Alexis and his wife are filled up, or the fidelity with which the language and style of the period have been preserved; and every effort has been made to give the English translation, as far as possible, the naturalness and simplicity of the original. PORTRAIT SKETCHES OF THE I. ALEXIS SERGEIVITCH. MANY years ago there lived on his estate of Bleak Valley, about forty miles from our village, a cousin of my mother's, Alexis Sergeivitch Teleguin, a retired sergeant of the Guards, and well-to-do landed proprietor. He constantly resided on his property, and therefore never visited us; but twice every year I was sent to pay my respects to him, at first with my tutor and then alone. Alexis Sergeivitch was always pleased to see me, and I generally stayed at his house three or four days. I saw him for the first time as a boy of twelve, and he was then already above seventy. He was born under the Empress Elisabeth, in the last year of her reign. He lived quite alone with his wife, Malania Pavlovna, who was some ten years younger. Their two daughters had long been married, but seldom came to Bleak Valley in consequence of a family quarrel, and Alexis Sergeivitch rarely, if ever, mentioned their names. I fancy I see before me now the old house, the very type of a country gentleman's mansion in the steppes. Though only one-storied, it was spacious and commodious, having been built in the beginning of the present century of marvellously thick pine-beams— such are nowhere to be seen in our degenerate days, but were then brought from the forests lying beyond Fiesdrienski-and contained a number of rooms, which, however, it must be confessed were rather low, and dark, because, in order to keep them as warm as possible, the windows were of the smallest dimensions. As is always the case-or, to speak more correctly, as was formerly the fashion-the domestic offices and lodgings surrounded the house on all sides, and were separated from it only by a garden, small, but rich in fruit trees, and especially in transparent apples and pipless pears, whilst for ten miles round stretched the level steppe, with its fat black soil. There was nothing to vary the dull monotony of the scene, neither tree nor church-tower, only here and there a creaking windmill with its torn and broken sails. In truth it was well named Bleak Valley. Indoors, the rooms were filled with plain, substantial furniture; but one could not but be struck with a kind of sign-post placed near the window of the salon, and covered with |