“Wednesday evening,” she writes, “I had a reception in my room. The guests were dirty, ragged, pitiful boys; some of them can read, some cannot, but all of them are spell-bound by the wonderful stories of _St. Nicholas_ and _The Youth’s Companion_. If the children who sent these papers and magazines sacrificed anything in so doing, may they be blessed for it; they would be could they see the happy, wondering faces of the children, who almost reverently turn the pages and spell out the stories.” * * * “I wish it were possible for you to come into my sewing-school of a Tuesday evening. At two o’clock the girls assemble—noisy, rough girls,—racing and laughing they burst into the room where I wait for them: a room where a family of father, mother and five children live, one of many, in some old barracks that were used in the war. We begin with reading of Scripture and a short prayer, and sometimes the girls sing with their rich, full voices; then we are all ready for the work, which is sometimes sewing, sometimes cutting. There is a great deal of commendable rivalry among the girls as to which shall sew best and fastest, so their tongues run fast until I silence them with a proposal to read or tell a story. They are deeply interested in ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ and beside we are having ten minute talks on Physiology, and the care of the body. The immorality among the women and young girls is something to make one’s heart ache, and my daily prayer is that I may do something to turn them to better, purer lives. “When a garment is finished, the maker buys it for a trifling sum, within the means of the poorest. My other school meets Thursdays, in a school-house, and is conducted on nearly the same plan.