ottom of the dingle, getting my breakfast, I heard an unknown voice
from the path above--apparently that of a person descending--exclaim,
"Here's a strange place to bring a letter to;" and presently an old
woman, with a belt round her middle, to which was attached a leathern
bag, made her appearance, and stood before me.

"Well, if I ever!" said she, as she looked about her. "My good
gentlewoman," said I, "pray what may you please to want?" "Gentlewoman!"
said the old dame, "please to want!--well, I call that speaking civilly,
at any rate. It is true, civil words cost nothing; nevertheless, we do
not always get them. What I please to want is to deliver a letter to a
young man in this place; perhaps you be he?" "What's the name on the
letter?" said I, getting up and going to her. "There is no name upon
it," said she, taking a letter out of her scrip and looking at it. "It
is directed to the young man in Mumpers' Dingle." "Then it is for me, I
make no doubt," said I, stretching out my hand to take it. "Please to
pay me ninepence first," said the old woman. "However," said she, after
a moment's thought, "civility is civility, and, being rather a scarce
article, should meet with some return. Here's the letter, young man, and
I hope you will pay for it; for if you do not, I must pay the postage
myself." "You are the postwoman, I suppose?" said I, as I took the
letter. "I am the postman's mother," said the old woman; "but as he has
a wide beat, I help him as much as I can, and I generally carry letters
to places like this, to which he is afraid to come himself." "You say
the postage is ninepence," said I, "here's a shilling." "Well, I call
that honourable," said the old woman, taking the shilling and putting it
into her pocket--"here's your change, young man," said she, offering me
threepence. "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 t