There she had been all her life learning far more complicated things than this, yet this familiar occupation was unknown to her! It was a pleasure to see her teacher impart to her this information; to see the eager, childlike delight as the knowledge became her own. We saw why this aged face gave the impression of perennial youth; why we thought her then, and still think of her, as a child; she had the freshness and curiosity of a child; every contact with her fellow-beings opened new vistas to her mind; every explanation begat other inquiries; she was tireless in her endeavours to learn. Human strength was not equal to the avidity she continually showed. As we were leaving she said, “Please ask them if I may touch their faces, then I shall know them _when I see them again_.” Those white fingers twinkled over every part of my face--“the moving finger” read, and seemed to read with uncanny skill. I was uneasy, except that it was done so delicately, done eagerly, yet lingeringly. It was as though she were probing my soul to find what manner of being I was. She felt my hair, my shoulders, my hands. I cannot recall now whether she made any comments. Then she did the same with Miss Wilkins, whose ready blush mounted while restively submitting to those searching fingers. Laura paused and began talking to Mrs. Lamson. The latter laughed, shook her head, replied on Laura’s fingers, seemingly arguing a point. “What does she say?” insisted Miss Wilkins. “She says that you are old and, when I told her no, she insisted. I told her you were not old, but were older than your friend, and then she cornered me by saying, ‘Ask her the year she was born.’ She always was obstinate under evasion.” Miss Wilkins blushed deeper than ever, but enjoyed Laura’s ready wit, though forbearing to satisfy her curiosity as to the tell-tale year. Though we attended strictly to business, it was not all work in those days; yet we had little time or money for amusement. But in Boston there is much to see and learn at little cost. The churches themselves are an education, and I was an inveterate church-goer, hearing Phillips Brooks the oftenest of any, but Minot Savage frequently, occasionally little old Cyrus Bartol (whom someone called “the moth-eaten angel”), Edward Everett Hale, James Freeman Clarke, Phillip Moxom, George Gordon, and others.