"The boys' clothes are near completion, and the girls' outfits are being made, and greatly helped on by the kind-hearted exertions of Christian ladies in Liverpool and Birkenhead, who have brought to the Sheltering Home their own sewing-machines, and plied them at full speed on our behalf at the weekly sewing-meetings held on Wednesdays, from eleven till five P.M. At these gatherings, much to the gratification of the ladies, the little ones whose garments they were sewing, have sung for their pleasure children's sweet hymns of praise to Him by whose love they were being cared for.
"My heart, and the hearts of my few but loving helpers who live with me in the Home, have been nearly broken this afternoon by witnessing a sight so terrible, that we hope and pray we may never see the like again. A most depraved, drunken, and wicked father, set on by two women more wicked (because more cunning) than himself, dragged out of our Home by main force two dear little girls he had himself, when more sober, besought us many times to take in. They knelt, they prayed, they begged as for dear life to be left in the Home; when, refused by him again and again, they saw he was urged on by the women to drag them out, they gave way to their poor little wills and screamed, 'I won't go with you! I won't go with you! I know where you will take us to! You never cared one bit for us, but now, that we are clean and comfortable, and learning to read, you wish to take me back. If you do, I will get something to take my life away, rather than live with you!' And by the man's sheer force they were carried screaming from the Home; and the last thing we heard, through their shrieks, was the father uttering threats we cannot repeat. I ran to my little room to hide myself and weep; but I heard them screaming still, as the poor girls made one more desperate effort at resistance. Though now it is three hours since, I hear their screaming yet; and, dear friends, I think I shall hear it till I die. As a little band, we are completely petrified, bruised, and sore, quivering in every nerve, looking up earnestly to God to know His Will, and praying that we may have all the other dear ones left to train for Him; for the Roman Catholic spirit is bitterness itself against thus teaching the little ones.
"'Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak, but He is strong.'
"Dear friends, pray for our little ones. Money is useful, personal help is useful; the thoughtful gifts we receive from time to time are useful; but prayer—which 'moves the hand that moves the world'—is more useful than all beside. Pray for our children; for those we purpose taking to new homes in a distant land, that they may never disgrace the Home they have been sheltered in; and for those who have been torn away from us, that they may be preserved from temptation, and from becoming a curse. Then shall we joyfully take them forth, and in God's good time return, and again fill up this spacious Home, and feel it the greatest privilege of our life to labour among the poor neglected little ones of the streets of these large cities. Share then in the blessing wrapped up in the King's word, 'Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.'"
How great is the contrast in turning from these heart-rending details, to the following letters from across the Atlantic:—
"BELLEVILLE, June 7th, 1873.
"My dear Mrs. Merry,—I wish you had been with us to-day, and seen part of the result of all your patient toil and joyous service for the Lord daring the past five years' work among His little ones.
"Knowing the joy it would be to so many of them to see dear Miss Macpherson, we sent out postal-card invitations to those living within 25 miles. Some few were unable to accept; but between seventy and eighty children, with their employers, came in one by one, looking so brown and healthy. You would hardly recognise in the tall, slim youth, now quite a help to his master, a carpenter by trade, the little, tender-hearted George M—, eldest of three orphan brothers. It hardly seems three years ago since their father stood up in a gathering of Christians, and with failing breath declared what the Lord had done for his soul. Then you remember how quietly he passed away, leaving his three boys entirely in Miss Macpherson's care. All doing so well in Canada—Fred and little Johnnie still in their first homes.
"One great pleasure of the children was to roam over the Home under the orchard blossoms, glancing over the books of photographs and recognising some friend or mate with whom some far different days had been spent. Among the attractions were the tables of toys, pictures, books, &c., sent out by English friends; and here the little ones spent some of their hoarded cents, thinking so much of anything really English. About twelve o'clock we gathered in the flower garden in front, while sandwiches, buns, and milk were passed round among the children. Your sister sat with them chatting to them of old times, and answering many questions as to former companions and still loved though often silent English friends. Can you picture the eager listeners to the familiar voice of one who was to them the link between the sorrowful past and the happy future?—a Bible lesson on the lost sheep. My eyes often filled with tears when I looked at their bright faces, and blessed God for the open door for them in this country. There stood Jamie D—, who, with his little brother Hughie, formed one of the saddest photographs of childish wretchedness even Glasgow streets could produce; so bright, so well-dressed, though still with a little of the old look of childish care. William C—, the little fellow of four years old, whose mother died in India, and the father on his return sank in a London hospital, leaving little Willie friendless, was here with a lovely bunch of hot-house flowers ready to present to Miss Macpherson, and to receive from her one of the beautifully illustrated scrap-books made by little English children. Willie has been nearly three years in his happy home, surrounded by all the influences of education and refinement.
"Now the friends were gathering thickly, and listened while an earnest address was given to the boys by Miss Macpherson. When she ceased, first one and then another gentleman stood up and gave their earnest, hearty sympathy with and approval of the work, and of the character of the boys. And here I must tell you, in passing, we attribute much to the loving, tender training of your Hampton Home. It is not that Canadian farmers would put up with anything, or that a bad boy is so useful that his faults are overlooked; for here every single boy is thoroughly known, and discussed over all the country side. Mr. Grover, from the village of Colborne, quite cheered our hearts with the good accounts of the twenty in his neighbourhood, most of whom have joined his classes, and by their steady industrious conduct are recommending themselves.