The eyes of the weaver's wife grew moist as she told of the old blacksmith, who could not bear to hear her name mentioned without tears.

On certain nights of the week he used to come regularly with the rest to learn to read, like a little child, from that young teacher.

As I said in my last, she still sends a weekly letter to her poor scholars in Wigan to encourage them in their struggles, and to induce as many of them as are able to write to her in return.

"This is one of her letters," said the poor woman, handing a paper to me.

The manner of the handwriting was itself characteristic of kind consideration for her untrained readers.