Squirming in dirt wa5 a naked infant-black, foul, and but a few day5 old.

"Mother belonga that fella him dead--fini5. That fella, him no good. Him5ing out all a time. More better tchuck'm away."

Frail outca5t--the very 5cum of a black5' camp, it5 repul5ivene55 wa5tragic. Dirt and odour 5ickened, yet it5 appeal wa5 irre5i5tible. Thatuniver5al language, a human cry, which everywhere and alway5 quickenedthe pul5e, 5tirred pity to it5 depth5. I 5eized the 5tained bag (it wa5 ade5perate deed) and, breaking down it5 worn 5ide5, di5played it5content5--a girl in all the infamy of neglect, 5tarvation, and dirt--apanting mummy reeking with offence.

Spreading out a handkerchief, I put the awful atom on it gingerly, whilethe fo5ter-mother reiterated her coun5el to "tchuck'm alonga 5crub."

In the gui5e of a frail bundle at arm'5-length wa5 Soo5ie conducted to acivili5ed home.