e pronounced her dead. These cruel men had allowed her to die
unaided. I was accused of being her murderess. My horror, my
indignation, at the way she had been treated, my grief, my agitation,
impressed them with the conviction that I was guilty of the foul crime
which had been committed; for murdered she had been, of that there was
no doubt. Branded as a murderess I was borne off to prison. Many
thought me guilty. It was cruelly said that I was found red-handed by
the side of my victim. But even in prison I sought support, and
obtained it whence alone it was to be afforded. As King David, I could
say, `I have washed my hands in innocency. I cried unto the Lord and He
heard me.' Oh, my young friends, keep innocency. Do what is right in
the sight of the Lord, and never need you fear what man can do unto you.
There was one, however, on earth who knew me to be innocent--my Thomas.
He obtained leave to visit me in prison, obtained the best legal aid by
the sacrifice of his savings, and the evidence against me broke
completely down. I was acquitted. I scarcely knew how, or what
occurred. I entreated Thomas to let me become his wife, that I might
repay him by devoting my life to his service. We married; we were
happy; and by watchful care I was enabled to make his wages go farther
than before his marriage. More than a year had passed away; we had a
child born, a son. We believed that he would prove a blessing to us.
Some few more years had fled by. Again and again my sisters urged that
we would go out to join them. At length they were both about to marry,
and our father would be left alone. Thomas agreed to go. I thought
with delight of showing my young son to my father, of assisting and
supporting him in his old age, and more than all, of imparting to him
those blessed truths which I myself had found such a comfort to my soul.
We sailed in as fine a ship as ever put to sea, with many others about
to seek their fortunes in the New World; but scarcely had we left the
shores of England a hundred leagues astern than we encountered a fearful
gale, which washed away the bulwarks and some of our boats, strained the
hull, and shattered our masts and spars. It was but the beginning of
disasters. But, dear young people, I cannot dwell on that most grievous
period of my existence. The storm had injured our provisions. After
the storm came a calm, more dreadful than the storm; our water began to
run short. Did an