towers reaching to the very sky is going up. What can it be?"

"One of their pagodas," answered Lihoa, "and down there is the school
in which one of my nephews is being instructed in the learning of the
West. The white-faced women with the long veils brought him up because
my sister exposed him when a baby. They found and cared for him in the
great white house where a light burns in the window; there they bring
up the children which our women are not able to care for. Let us go
down and see what is going on at this time of the night."

Lohe and Lihoa went down to the long low orphanage in which the Sisters
of Mercy care for a hundred or more foundlings. The shutters were
drawn, but they found a tiny hole through which they could peep. In
the dormitory they saw four rows of small white beds, all spread with
beautiful white linen, and in each little bed lay a child. The most of
them were asleep, but a few were crying and fretting--for Chinese
babies have quite as many troubles as American children. Some of the
nuns were walking up and down between the rows of beds, lovingly
tucking up the fretful little beings, giving the bottle to some, and
rocking others with the utmost patience. Hardly did they quiet one
before another began to whimper, and so it went on. Shaking their
heads the two Chinamen slipped away. They had seen for themselves the
love and patience with which the Sisters care for these poor deserted
infants.

"I thought we were going to find them putting the children's eyes out,"
said Lohe, "when I heard the cries in there. These women show greater
love for these babes than their own mothers."

"Yes, yes," answered Lihoa. "It is wonderful. I wish our priests