Ignorant of books, human faces were the scrolls from which they had been reading for ages.

They had been the sunshine and shadow of their lives.
Iola had found a school-room in the basement of a colored church, where the doors were willingly opened to her.

Her pupils came from miles around, ready and anxious to get some "book larnin'." Some of the old folks were eager to learn, and it was touching to see the eyes which had grown dim under the shadows of slavery, donning spectacles and trying to make out the words.

As Iola had nearly all of her life been accustomed to colored children she had no physical repulsions to overcome, no prejudices to conquer in dealing with parents and children.

In their simple childish fashion they would bring her fruits and flowers, and gladden her lonely heart with little tokens of affection.
One day a gentleman came to the school and wished to address the children.