I have been thinking with envy of the dear little chimney-sweepers knickety-knocketing their shovels about the streets at home all this week, and I see you with your open carriage boiling over with children giving them half-pence, and begging them not to be run over. ‘I, too, once gave halfpence to chimney-sweepers’, as the man said who had lived in Arcadia.
There was a charity meeting to-day at a new school, called ‘La Martinière,’ to which Fanny and I were duly summoned, and we went off at six in the evening, grudging the loss of our drive, but willing to give up everything in a good cause. We found in the suburbs a building as big as St. Paul’s, with twelve small babies of orphans playing in a play-ground. Our own servants found us a way upstairs, and forced open a door that was called the ‘ Ladies’ committee room,’ and we sat down by ourselves. Presently Sir H. Fane and Miss Fane arrived, and then another lady, and we all sat looking at each other for half an hour, and then Sir H. Fane wisely advised us to go away and take our drive, which we did. As three ladies are
