much I think that persons like myself, who in God's providence have not had to suffer from poverty, ought to sympathise with you: and I trust we do sympathise with you. Poverty and its troubles cannot altogether be got out of the way; but it is something to a poor woman to know that those who are in an easier condition of life don't look down upon her, that they really feel for her, and are prepared in every way in their power to help her.
Hitherto I have been speaking chiefly about married people, about mothers and so forth; but I ought to bear in mind that our invitation was to "working women" generally, and I daresay I have got before me a large number of young women who are not married, but who all possibly may look forward to that condition at some future time. Now remember that we did not force you into this place: we merely invited you. We gave you tickets, and you have accepted the invitation, and here you are; and as you are here you are bound to listen to anything I have to say to you. The first thing I wish to say is this—that the great charm of a young woman's character is her perfect modesty. That is the thing which makes a young woman beautiful. It is not the cut of her face, the colour of her eyes, the length of her hair, the
