We shall now leave Samuel Jones, and accompany his mother to Dover. On her arrival, she assumed her maiden name, which I shall call Lucy Cambridge; and such was her simplicity and quietness of deportment, that she was never suspected of being other than she seemed. She readily obtained a situation in a weave-room, and by industry and close application, she quickly learned the grand secret of a successful weaver--namely, "Keep the filling running, and the web clear." The wages were not then reduced to the present low standard, and Lucy transmitted to her son, monthly, all, saving enough to supply her absolute necessities. As change is the order of the day in all manufacturing places, so, in the course of change, Lucy became my room-mate; and she whom I had before admired, secured my love and ardent friendship. Upon general topics she conversed freely; but of her history and kindred, never. Her respectful deportment was sufficient to protect her from the inquiries of curiosity; and thus she maintained her reserve until one evening when I found her sadly perusing a letter. I thought she had been weeping. All the sympathies of my nature were aroused, and throwing my arms around her neck, I exclaimed, "Dear Lucy, does your letter bring you bad news, or are any of your relatives"----I hesitated and stopped; for, thought I, "perhaps she _has_ no relatives. I have never heard her speak of any: she may be a lone orphan in the world." It was then she yielded to sympathy, what curiosity had never ventured to ask. From that time she continued to speak to me of her history and hopes. As I have selected names to suit myself, she has kindly permitted me to make an extract from her answer to that letter, which was as follows: "My Dear Son,--in your letter of the 16th, you entreat me to leave the mill, saying, 'I would rather be a scavenger, a wood-sawyer, or anything, whereby I might honestly procure a subsistence for my mother and myself, than have you thus toil, early and late. Mother, the very thought is intolerable! O come away--for dearly as I love knowledge, I cannot consent to receive it at the price of my mother's happiness.' "My son, it is true that factory life is a life of toil--but I am preparing the way for my only son to go forth as a herald of the cross, to preach repentance and salvation to those who are out of the way. I am promoting an object which was very near the heart of my dear husband. Wherefore I desire that you will not again think of pursuing any other course than the one already marked out for you; for you perceive that my agency in promoting your success, forms an important part of _my_ happiness."