The Eternal City

r one shoulder like a sack, and under the other arm a wooden cage containing a grey squirrel. It was a December night in London, and the So

his appearance, and of doubtful legality in his calling, he was dipping into side stre

an iron grid on the pavement there came the warm breath of the oven underground, the red glow of the fire, and the scythe-like swish of the long shovels. The boy blocked the squirrel under his armpit, dived into his pocket, and brought out some copper coins an

ame less, and things looked big in the thick air. The boy was wandering aimlessly through the streets, waiting for nine o'clock. When he thought the hou

ersons still in the streets loomed up on him out of the darkness, and passed in a moment like gigantic shadows. He tried to ask his way, but nobody would st

seen from there, and so he knew that he was in a square. It would be Soho Square, but whether he was on the south or east of it he could not tell, and consequently he wa

d fingers could scarcely hold the cage, which was also full of snow. By the light coming from a fanlight over the door in the porch he looked at his squirrel. The little thing was trembling pitifully in its icy bed, and he took it out and breathed on it to warm it, a

ed to see the big, cheerless house, almost destitute of furniture, where he lived with thirty or forty other boys. They trooped in with their organs and accordions, counted out their coppers to a man with a clipped moustache, who was blowing whiffs of smoke from a long, black cigar, with a straw through it, and then sat down on forms to eat their plates of macaroni and cheese. The man was

an upper room in Old Compton Street was breaking up for t

t road to our country a snowstorm has come, and w

y of answer, and cried

and God bless you

ed up by a feeble smile; his voice was soft, and his manner gentle. When the boys were gone h

ze before he began to realise that hi

"only a few steps, and y

f his house in Soho Square, he almost trod on a little black a

e this! Come, come," he said severely, "this is w

y monotone, "Don't hit me, sir. It was snow. I'll not com

, then turned to the do