CHAPTER XVIII.



"Come, child of misfortune, come hither!
I'll weep with thee, tear for tear."
--TOM MOORE.

The weaver's wife spoke very feelingly of the young governess who
had been so good to the family. Her voice trembled with emotion as
she told of her kindnesses, which had so won the hearts of the poor
folk thereabouts, that whenever they hear her name now, their
tongues leap at once into heart-warm praise of her. It seems to have
been her daily pleasure to go about helping those who needed help
most, without any narrowness of distinction; in the spirit of that
"prime wisdom" which works with all its might among such elements as
lie nearest to the hand. Children and gray-haired working men
crowded into the poor cottages to hear her read, and to learn the
first elements of education at her free classes. She left the town,
some time ago, to live in the south of England; but the blessings of
many who were ready to perish in Wigan will follow her all her days,
and her memory will long remain a garden of good thoughts and
feelings to those she has left behind. 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