readers," said one, "and Anna Maria is the
youngest."

Nothing could induce either to utter a
word, so formidable did the trial appear. At
last Anna Maria made a start, and I believe
would not have come to a stop very rapidly
had not I myself been compelled to leave. I
was much struck with the familiarity and
affection which they seemed to feel towards
their benevolent patron. They talked and
laughed and ran about as children should
and do talk and laugh and run about in the
presence of grown-up people, when grown-up
people have the milk of human kindness in
them; and this happy freedom seemed to
make their friend as happy as themselves.

"I should be sorry if these children were
taken from me," said Mr. Major.

"And so should I too," added his daughter.
"One becomes attached to them insensibly,
and then the history of their sufferings and
their destitute position have won our hearts."

The children had just kissed the hands of
their patrons, and were running across the
court-yard. We stood and looked after them
in silence, and I don't know which was the
more touching feature in the scene, the
kindly beaming smile of the good man who
had saved them from want, and perhaps from
worse, or the unconscious delight of the
children themselves. It would be worth a
fortune to be able to create such a scene
as that—a man need not envy a prince
who could feel that amount of satisfaction
derived from the contemplation of his
own benevolent acts. In some part of
the present month Mr. Major again goes
through the earthquake districts—his sole
object being not to distribute alms to stop
the importunate voice of the poor, but to
relieve them practically and permanently, by
teaching them how to help themselves, how
to build, how to work, how to save, and how
to think. There are many who look upon
his efforts with great jealousy and suspicion;
many of the priests and of the authorities do
not like him; the latter like to have the
management of money matters in their own
hands; the former are afraid of cultivating
independence of character; so that, generally
speaking, he has worked alone, trusting to
his own indomitable courage and perseverance
for success. Some contributions to the
work he has received from Switzerland;
more would be desirable, and would be well
disposed of.

In the month of June my attention was
attracted by two young boys, who were
playing on small harps and singing in the
streets of Naples. On inquiring whence they
came from, they told me from Vigglano, that
traditional country of music, where, for I do
not know how many generations, the people
have been bred to the harp, and the violin,
and the flute, and whence they have carried
the music they created to all parts of the
world. The lads were aged twelve and
fourteen years; the eldest had been to Paris, the
youngest was making his first start in life;
but they were now prohibited from leaving
the country, so that they were trying to get
smaller gains by playing and singing (and
they did both very well) in the capital and
the neighbourhood. They remembered the
English gentleman who had been amongst
them in the beginning of the year very well,
but they did not know that four children,
younger than themselves, from the same
village, were now residing under that
Englishman's care.

Since I began this article his Majesty has
resolved, at last, on the distribution of
a portion of the funds subscribed amongst
the sufferers by the earthquake. Upwards
of thirty-two thousand ducats are to be
given to the monasteries and churches, and
a large sum to be devoted to the establishment
of offices for lending money on pledges.
Other sums are to be distributed amongst the
poor according to certain conditions. More
than nine months have passed away since the
occurrence of that dire disaster, and yet only
now has it been even resolved to distribute
the charitable fund. The English, with their
subscriptions, were on the ground in a month
or two. We may estimate by these facts the
comparative energy of the Englishman and
the Neapolitan authorities.

  LIFE AND DEATH IN SAINT GILES'S.

THE Medical Officers of Health,—captains
of sanitary militia,—in this Metropolis, at
the end of their second year of work, have
marshalled and sent out on general home
service, a second squadron of reports. Last
year we passed under review the entire
squadron, and applauded its equipment.
This year we might do the same, but let us
avoid sameness. We take, therefore, a single
man out of the ranks, and question him.

The bulkiest of the reports is that which
depicts the condition of Saint Giles's during
the year of grace last past. And because
Saint Giles's is a name that stands for a large
thought in London, a parish that we are
accustomed vaguely to regard as the Inferno
set over against the Paradise of Saint James's;
also because its medical Officer of Health,
Doctor George Buchanan, has evidently
spent no little time and skill in working out
his report with an elaborate care that gives
it a particular importance, we will fasten upon
the report about Saint Giles's for a few
minutes.

The district contains the two parishes of
Saint Giles and Saint George, Bloomsbury.
It is a three hundred and eighteenth part
of the area of town within the bills of
mortality, and it lies at the heart of London.
Why should it there represent a heart
disease, why is it sickly? Far above high
water-mark, it has the rare blessing of standing
over gravel, and there is no quarter of