"Pray keep that for yourself," said I; "you deserve it for your trouble." "Well, I call that genteel," said the old woman; "and as one good turn deserves another, since you look as if you couldn't read, I will read your letter for you.

Let's see it; it's from some young woman or other, I dare say." "Thank you," said I, "but I can read." "All the better for you," said the old woman; "your being able to read will frequently save you a penny, for that's the charge I generally make for reading letters; though, as you behaved so genteelly to me, I should have charged you nothing.

Well, if you can read, why don't you open the letter, instead of keeping it hanging between your finger and thumb ?" "I am in no hurry to open it," said I, with a sigh.

The old woman looked at me for a moment--"Well, young man," said she, "there are some--especially those who can read--who don't like to open their letters when anybody is by, more especially when they come from young women.

Well, I won't intrude upon you, but leave you alone with your letter.