Many years ago, in a city whose name I cannot now recall, there lived a poor woman, whose husband had died, leaving nothing but a little son. For some time, she continued to support herself, and her son, whom she dearly loved, by working early and late at the spinning-wheel. But, after a while, a heavy misfortune fell upon her: it was no less than the loss of eyesight. So she was obliged to give up her spinning; for now she could distinguish neither the web nor the woof. You can imagine her distress at being deprived so suddenly of seeing the great and beautiful spectacle of fields, flowers,[65] and sky, which every day presents to our gaze. Still, she would not have heeded all this; but she found herself cut off, at the same time, from all means of subsistence.