Many other letters passed between Carlile and this lady, who became fired with the enthusiasm to become a volunteer in the good cause, and devote herself and whatever talent she might possess to the work under the direction of Carlile. The last, or the last but one of these Bolton letters was written on the last Christmas Day she was ever with her mother and her sisters, and we must pause for a moment in sympathy for that poor mother who was so soon to lose her brightest and best daughter. The time was close at hand when she would mourn this beloved daughter as one lost to her for ever. For, sad to say, she was one of those marble-hearted Christians who could forgive anything but unbelief; and though our sympathy goes out to her for her sorrow at that time, it is restricted by the fact that she never forgave Isis for the step taken. No, not even to death itself nor to the children of Isis after their mother's death. Here is the letter written on old-fashioned foolscap paper that feels like parchment, and is to-day in most excellent preservation, though all these letters (of which only the preceding ones have been before printed) have travelled many thousand miles and been exposed to many vicissitudes for more than sixty years. This next letter was written to Carlile on Christmas Day, and we can see how quickly the idea of helping in the work of reform had taken root and was carrying her on to the new and unknown life, and how her quiet and peaceful past was falling away from her, like loosened garments from her shoulders, to be left behind her as she steps into the new life.