CHAPTER VIII.
SALLY'S FIRST SUNDAY AT CHURCH.
A feeling of Sabbath peace stole over little Pollie as she issued forth from her humble home on her way to Sunday-school. All was still, so quiet; the very court, usually noisy, seemed hushed. None of its uproarious inhabitants were about, only poor crippled Jimmy was sitting on the door-step warming himself in the feeble sunlight that flickered down from among the crowded chimneys.
The little girl paused to speak a few kind words to him.
"I wish you could come with me," she said; "it is so nice."
"What! be school nice?" repeated the boy, who seemed to have the same horror of learning as the more enlightened Sally Grimes.
"Yes," she replied; "indeed it is. They are all so kind to us there, and teach us such beautiful verses and texts about God and our Saviour."
"Be that Him you told me on?" he asked. "I ain't forgot what you told me afore—'Consider, and hear me, O Lord my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death.'"
"Oh, you are a good boy!" exclaimed the child encouragingly. "Now I will tell you my text for to-day, and when I come back you shall hear what my teacher says about 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'"