hat is with child has a father for it,' and whether
that father was a husband or no husband, was no business of hers; her
business was to assist me in my present circumstances, whether I had a
husband or no. 'For, madam,' says she, 'to have a husband that cannot
appear, is to have no husband in the sense of the case; and, therefore,
whether you are a wife or a mistress is all one to me.'

I found presently, that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass
for a whore here, so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she
said, but that, however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her
as it was; so I related it to her as short as I could, and I concluded
it to her thus. 'I trouble you with all this, madam,' said I, 'not
that, as you said before, it is much to the purpose in your affair, but
this is to the purpose, namely, that I am not in any pain about being
seen, or being public or concealed, for 'tis perfectly indifferent to
me; but my difficulty is, that I have no acquaintance in this part of
the nation.'

'I understand you, madam' says she; 'you have no security to bring to
prevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, and perhaps,'
says she, 'do not know very well how to dispose of the child when it
comes.' 'The last,' says I, 'is not so much my concern as the first.'
'Well, madam,' answered the midwife, 'dare you put yourself into my
hands? I live in such a place; though I do not inquire after you, you
may inquire after me. My name is B----; I live in such a
street'--naming the street--'at the sign of the Cradle. My profession
is a midwife, and I have many ladies that come to my house to lie in.
I have given security to the parish in general terms to secure them
from any charge from whatsoever shall come into the world under my
roof. I have but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam,' says
she, 'and if that be answered you shall be entirely easy for all the
rest.'

I presently understood what she meant, and told her, 'Madam, I believe
I understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of
the world, I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do
not abound in that neither': this I added because I would not make her
expect great things. 'Well, madam,' says she, 'that is the thing
indeed, without which nothing can be done in these cases; and yet,'
says she, 'you shall see that I will not impose upon you, or offer
anything that is unkind to you, and