CHAPTER XVI.
"Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings.
Croak not, black angel; I have no food for thee." -- King Lear.
I lingered a little while in the work-room, at the Mechanics' Institution, interested in the scene.

A stout young woman came in at a side door, and hurried up to the centre of the room with a great roll of coarse gray cloth, and lin check, to be cut up for the stitchers.

One or two of the classes were busy with books and slates; the remainder of the girls were sewing and knitting; and the ladies of the committee were moving about, each in quiet superintendence of her own class.

The room was comfortably full, even on the platform; but there was very little noise, and no disorder at all.

I say again that I never saw a more comely, clean, and well conducted assembly than this of three hundred and fifty factory lasses.