be tired of me!--And if you
are, I can forgive you; for I am tired of myself: and all my own
relations were tired of me long before you were.

How good you have always been to me, mine own dear Anna Howe!--But how
I ramble!

I sat down to say a great deal--my heart was full--I did not know what
to say first--and thought, and grief, and confusion, and (O my poor
head) I cannot tell what--and thought, and grief and confusion, came
crowding so thick upon me; one would be first; another would be first;
all would be first; so I can write nothing at all.--Only that, whatever
they have done to me, I cannot tell; but I am no longer what I was-in
any one thing did I say? Yes, but I am; for I am still, and I ever
will be,

Your true----

Plague on it! I can write no more of this eloquent nonsense myself;
which rather shows a raised, than a quenched, imagination: but Dorcas
shall transcribe the others in separate papers, as written by the
whimsical charmer: and some time hence when all is over, and I can
better bear to read them, I may ask thee for a sight of them. Preserve
them, therefore; for we often look back with pleasure even upon the
heaviest griefs, when the cause of them is removed.

PAPER II
(Scratch'd through, and thrown under the table.)

--And can you, my dear, honoured Papa, resolve for ever to reprobate
your poor child?--But I am sure you would not, if you knew what she has
suffered since her unhappy--And will nobody plead for your poor suffering
girl?--No one good body?--Why then, dearest Sir, let it be an act of your
own innate goodness, which I have so much experienced, and so much
abused. I don't presume to think you should receive me--No, indeed!--My
name is--I don't know what my name is!--I never dare to wish to come into
your family again!--But your heavy curse, my Papa--Yes, I will call you
Papa, and help yourself as you can--for you are my own dear Papa, whether
you will or not--and though I am an unworthy child--yet I am your child--

PAPER III

A Lady took a great fancy to a young lion, or a bear, I forget
which--but a bear, or a tiger, I believe it was. It was made her a
present of when a whelp. She fed it with her own hand: she nursed up
the wicked cub with great tenderness; and would play with it without
fear or apprehension of danger: and it was obedient to all her commands:
and its tameness, as she used to boast, increased with its growth; so
that, like a lap-dog, it would