grieved, and order me a decent funeral, and save me, or rather
this part of me, from the dreadful stake, and the highway interment;
and the young men and maidens all around my dear father's will pity poor
Pamela! But, O! I hope I shall not be the subject of their ballads and
elegies; but that my memory, for the sake of my dear father and mother,
may quickly slide into oblivion.

I was once rising, so indulgent was I to this sad way of thinking, to
throw myself in: But, again, my bruises made me slow; and I thought,
What art thou about to do, wretched Pamela? How knowest thou, though the
prospect be all dark to thy short-sighted eye, what God may do for thee,
even when all human means fail? God Almighty would not lay me under
these sore afflictions, if he had not given me strength to grapple with
them, if I will exert it as I ought: And who knows, but that the very
presence I so much dread of my angry and designing master, (for he has
had me in his power before, and yet I have escaped;) may be better for
me, than these persecuting emissaries of his, who, for his money, are
true to their wicked trust, and are hardened by that, and a long habit
of wickedness, against compunction of heart? God can touch his heart in
an instant; and if this should not be done, I can then but put an end to
my life by some other means, if I am so resolved.

But how do I know, thought I, that even these bruises and maims that I
have gotten, while I pursued only the laudable escape I had meditated,
may not kindly have furnished me with the opportunity I am now tempted
with to precipitate myself, and of surrendering up my life, spotless and
unguilty, to that merciful Being who gave it!

Then, thought I, who gave thee, presumptuous as thou art, a power over
thy life? Who authorised thee to put an end to it, when the weakness
of thy mind suggests not to thee a way to preserve it with honour? How
knowest thou what purposes God may have to serve, by the trials with
which thou art now exercised? Art thou to put a bound to the divine
will, and to say, Thus much will I bear, and no more? And wilt thou dare
to say, That if the trial be augmented and continued, thou wilt sooner
die than bear it?

This act of despondency, thought I, is a sin, that, if I pursue it,
admits of no repentance, and can therefore hope no forgiveness.--And
wilt thou, to shorten thy transitory griefs, heavy as they are, and weak
as thou fanciest thyself, plunge both body and sou