'Where's father now?' 'In the workhouse, stoneblind.'
"In a room with a roaring fire were seated some thirty men and a few
women with infants. The landlord's reception was anything but
gracious. In answer to our 'Good evening,' he growled out, 'We don't
want talk; those men want bread.' And hungry enough many seemed. So
while one was sent for a supply of bread, which was received with
unmistakable gladness, and devoured greedily, we spoke to them of
that living bread which came down from heaven. All were interested,
and one young man seemed to wince and to be ill at ease when the love
of God was spoken of. I could not but feel that conscience was at
work, perhaps memory carrying back his mind to a godly mother, who
once had spoken the same loving words, but had gone to her rest in
tears.
"We then entered a licensed lodging-house accommodating 350. This
was a sad sight, because three-fourths of the men were unemployed
poor, chiefly dock-labourers, willing and glad to work, if work could
be got. On many a face there were stamped hopelessness and apathy.
Two poor fellows were sipping a cup of tea, without milk or sugar,
given to them by a poor man, but they had not a morsel of bread; and
this was their breakfast,--a late one truly, for it was ten at night.
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