ttom 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 Mumper's 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,
'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 genteely to me, I should have charged you nothing. Well, if
you can read, why don't you open the letter, instead of keeping