"Somebody shewed him kindness at last," said Mr. Carlisle, looking into the lustrous eyes which were so full of their subject.
"Who, do you think?"
"Impossible for me to guess—since you were not here."
"One of the most noted thieves in London went to one of the city missionaries and told him of the boy and recommended him to his kindness."
"Impelled by what earthly motive?"
"The misery of the case."
"Why did he not teach him his own trade?"
"The question the missionary put to him. The thief answered that he knew a thief's life too well."
"I should like to see you before a committee of the House of Commons," said Mr. Carlisle, taking two or three steps away and then returning. "Well?"
"Well—the missionary put the child with some decent people, where he was washed and clothed. But it is impossible for met to tell, as it was too bad to be told to me, the state to which squalor, starvation, and all that goes with it, had brought the child. He went to school; and two years after was well, healthy, flourishing, intelligent, one of the best and most useful lads at the establishment where he was employed. Now Lord Cushley has sent him to Australia."