and she returned to her family a grateful and, in her own view, a rich woman.
When the story of her adventure reached New York, the Life-Saving Benevolent Association sent her a gold medal with an appropriate inscription, and a request that she would send back a receipt in her own name.
As she did not know how to write, Captain Dorr hit upon the expedient of having her photograph taken with the medal in her hand, and sent that in lieu of her autograph.
In a recent letter dictated at Walsingham, where Abigail Becker now lives,—a widow, cultivating with her own hands her little farm in the wilderness,—she speaks gratefully of the past and hopefully of the future.
She mentions a message received from Captain Hackett, who she feared had almost forgotten her, that he was about to make her a visit, adding with a touch of shrewdness: After his second shipwreck last summer, I think likely that I must have recurred very fresh to him.
The strong lake winds now blow unchecked over the