I laid my hand
upon her head; and asked her what her name was. She popped her thumb
into her mouth, and looked shyly about from one to another, but
never a word could I get her to say. "That's Lizzy," said the woman;
"she is a little visitor belongin' to one o' the neighbours. They
are badly off, and she often comes in. Sure, our childer is very
fond of her, an' so she is of them. She is fine company wid
ourselves, but always very shy wid strangers. Come now, Lizzy,
darlin'; tell us your name, love, won't you, now?" But it was no
use; we couldn't get her to speak. In the next cottage where we
called, in this row, there was a woman washing. Her mug was standing
upon a stool in the middle of the floor; and there was not any other
thing in the place in the shape of furniture or household utensil.
The walls were bare of everything, except a printed paper, bearing
these words:
"The wages of sin is death. But the gift of God is eternal life,
through Jesus Christ our Lord." We now went to another street, and
visited the cottage of a blind chairmaker, called John Singleton. He
was a kind of oracle among the poor folk of the neighbourhood.
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