the ground with a terrible shock.

I started from the window, feeling, for an instant, faint and sick.
In a few moments I returned, and looked out again. Both the fallen
ones had regained their feet, and passed out of sight, and Biddy,
who had witnessed the last scene in this half comic, half tragic
performance, was giving the pavement a plentiful coating of ashes
and cinders.

I may be permitted to remark, that I trust other housekeepers, whose
pavements are washed on cold mornings--and their name, I had almost
said, is legion--are as innocent as I was in the above case, and
that the wrong to pedestrians lies at the door of thoughtless
servants. But is it not our duty to see the wrong has no further
repetition?

It has been remarked that the residence of a truly humane man may be
known by the ashes before his door on a slippery morning. If this be
so, what are we to think of those who coolly supply a sheet of ice
to the side walk?






CHAPTER XII.

REGARD FOR THE POOR.