But she couldn't make them hear her so she walked and walked and she thought she would get back to the orphan asylum, but instead she was moving further and further away from the town, and at last, hungry and alone, little Meg slipped into a side street and went to sleep. No one to love her, poor little Meg! slept. How long she slept she knew; not, but she was awakened and as she rubbed her eyes she saw a man standing by her and he had something in his hand—it was a dirty old handkerchief which he tied around her mouth and lifted her up and carried her away.
(Continued next week.)
NAN WALLER.
A SCHOOL, PIMP.
(Part II.)
After I was put in the depot a man came and took me to a school and put me down. After I had been there about five months, out came a man. He caught hold of my hand and jerked it up and down and went away with a frown on his face. I could not help laughing a little to myself, for he made such a funny face.
After a while a lot of children came out: some caught me over my mouth, while some others pumped and pumped and pumped until they pumped some water. The boy drank right out of my mouth. I am now looking awful, and am in us fit no more, for I am awfully sick, for I have always been out in the cold. (The end.)
MARY FRANCES ROC.ERS.
THE I  ITTLE III. IN OlltJ. 