Och--it's a book for the poor that!" The sisters shuddered.

"And you think then that with envy, malice, and all uncharitableness at your heart, you are certain of Heaven?
For shame! Pluck the mote from your own eye!" "What sinnifies praching?
Did not the Blessed Saviour come for the poor?
Them as has rags and dry bread here will be ixalted in the nixt world; an' if we poor folk have malice as ye calls it, whose fault's that?
What do ye tache us?
Eh ?--answer me that.

Ye keeps all the larning an' all the other fine things to yoursel', and then ye scould, and thritten, and hang us, 'cause we are not as wise as you.

Och! there is no jistice in the Lamb, if Heaven is not made for us; and the iverlasting Hell, with its brimstone and fire, and its gnawing an' gnashing of teeth, an' its theirst, an' its torture, and its worm that niver dies, for the like o' you." "Come! come away," said Ellinor, pulling her father's arm.
"And if," said Aram, pausing, "if I were to say to you,--name your want and it shall be fulfilled, would you have no charity for me also ?" "Umph," returned the hag, "ye are the great scolard; and they say ye knows what no one else do.

Till me now," and she approached, and familiarly, laid her bony finger on the student's arm; "till me,--have ye iver, among other fine things, known poverty ?" "I have, woman!" said Aram, sternly.
"Och ye have thin! And did ye not sit and gloat, and eat up your oun heart, an' curse the sun that looked so gay, an' the winged things that played so blithe-like, an' scowl at the rich folk that niver wasted a thought on ye?
till me now, your honour, till me!" And the crone curtesied with a mock air of beseeching humility.
"I never forgot, even in want, the love due to my fellow-sufferers; for, woman, we all suffer,--the rich and the poor: there are worse pangs than those of want!" "Ye think there be, do ye?
that's a comfort, umph! Well, I'll till ye now, I feel a rispict for you, that I don't for the rest on 'em; for your face does not insult me with being cheary like their's yonder; an' I have noted ye walk in the dusk with your eyes down and your arms crossed; an' I have said,--that man I do not hate, somehow, for he has something dark at his heart like me!" "The lot of earth is woe," answered Aram calmly, yet shrinking back from the crone's touch; "judge we charitably, and act we kindly to each other.