give her love to Laura Bridgman, and sat down again upon her little
bench, in the solitude of her perpetual silence and blindness.

When I had been over the institution, and seen the admirable work of
the inmates, and was about leaving, I had to pass near this lovely
child again. When I was within three or four feet of her, she put
out her hand and took hold of me. It seemed as if she knew me from
the rest of the party, after I had thus by chance spoken to her
imprisoned soul. No one will wonder that I could not keep the tears
out of my eyes.

I visited another collection of children, who might have been still
more unfortunate than these but for the wise charity of the people
of Manchester. The Swinton Union School is a large, noble building,
in the outskirts of Manchester. The school is a fine looking place,
surrounded by nice gardens and grounds. It can contain one thousand
children; there were then in it six hundred and fifty. They have a
fine, large, well-ventilated school room. They have a large place to
wash themselves, with a sufficient number of separate, fixed basins,
arranged to admit and let off water, a towel and piece of soap for
each child; and they are obliged to wash their faces and hands three
times a day. There are great tanks where they are all bathed twice a
week.

They have a fine infant school for the little ones, most admirably
managed. The large girls are taught to wash, and iron, and do
housework. The boys are, some of them, taught the tailor's trade,
and some the shoemaker's, and others the baker's. It was a pretty
sight to see the little fellows sitting on their legs, making their
own jackets and trousers, and laughing together, and looking as