One of my duties while engaged as a missionary on the Bowery was to
render reports of the work done for the missionary society. The
society had a monthly magazine and it was through that medium that
they got the greater part of their support.

In one of my reports I told the story of a London waif. The story made
such an impression upon the superintendent that he thought I was
romancing, and said so. My best answer to that was to produce the boy,
and I produced him. The boy told his own story. Then it was published
in a magazine and produced a strong impression. I think an extra
edition had to be printed to supply the demand.




CHAPTER IX

THE WAIF'S STORY


"I know nothing about my father," said the boy to me. "My mother
worked in the brick-yard not far from our cottage, where we lived
together. I went to school for two years and learned to read and
write, a little.

"Every evening I used to go to the bend in the road and meet my mother
as she came home. She was always very tired--so tired! She carried
clay on her head all day and it was heavy. I used to make the fire and
boil the supper and run all the errands to the grocery.