The blue peacock with the red tail that I achieved in cross-stitch was not a performance of any grace.

Neither was I very much downcast at my failures in this field; I was not an ambitious needlewoman.

But when the fad for "Russian lace" was introduced into Polotzk by a family of sisters who had been expelled from St.Petersburg, and all feminine Polotzk, on both sides of the Dvina, dropped knitting and crochet needles and embroidery frames to take up pillow and bobbins, I, too, was carried away by the novelty, and applied myself heartily to learn the intricate art, with the result that I did master it.

The Russian sisters charged enormous fees for lessons, and made a fortune out of the sale of patterns while they held the monopoly.

Their pupils passed on the art at reduced fees, and their pupils' pupils charged still less; until even the humblest cottage rang with the pretty click of the bobbins, and my Cousin Rachel sold steel pins by the ounce, instead of by the dozen, and the women exchanged cardboard patterns from one end of town to the other.
My teacher, who taught me without fee, being a friend of our prosperous days, lived "on the other side." It was winter, and many a time I crossed the frozen river, carrying a lace pillow as big as myself, till my hands were numb with cold.