To the blind man begging by the wayside, to the poor wretch that comes to our door for alms, to the crippled old woman who sits muffled up on a doorstep and holds out a wrinkled hand, we owe something if we are Christians. We may not give money — usually we had better not give money — but we ought to give something. We represent Christ in this world, and we ought to treat every such case of need and misfortune as our Master would do if he were precisely in our place. We ought to give at least a patient answer, a kindly look, and sympathetic attention. This from Turgeneff's “Poems in Prose”: “I was walking in the street; a beggar stopped me — a frail old man. His tearful eyes, blue lips, rough rags, disgusting sores, — oh, how horribly poverty had disfigured the unhappy creature! He stretched out to me his red, swollen, filthy hand; he groaned and whimpered for alms. I felt in all my pockets. No purse, watch, or handkerchief did I find. I had left them all at home. The beggar waited, and his outstretched hand twitched and trembled slightly. Embarrassed and confused, I seized his dirty hand and pressed it: ‘Don't be vexed with me, brother! I have nothing with me, brother.’ The beggar raised his bloodshot eyes to mine, his blue lips smiled, and he returned the pressure of my chilled fingers. ‘Never mind, brother,’ stammered he; ‘I thank you for this; this too was a gift, brother.’ I felt that I too had received a gift from my brother.” The brotherly word was holiest alms.