must not put in a word, when they take it into
their heads to be angry! What a fine time a person of an equal condition
would have of it, if she were even to marry such a one!--His poor dear
mother spoiled him at first. Nobody must speak to him or contradict him,
as I have heard, when he was a child; and so he has not been used to
be controlled, and cannot bear the least thing that crosses his violent
will. This is one of the blessings attending men of high condition! Much
good may do them with their pride of birth, and pride of fortune! say
I:--All that it serves for, as far as I can see, is, to multiply their
disquiets, and every body's else that has to do with them.

So, so! where will this end?--Mrs. Jewkes has been with me from him,
and she says, I must get out of the house this moment. Well, said I, but
whither am I to be carried next? Why, home, said she, to your father and
mother. And can it be? said I; No, no, I doubt I shall not be so happy
as that!--To be sure some bad design is on foot again! To be sure it
is!--Sure, sure, said I, Mrs. Jewkes, he has not found out some other
housekeeper worse than you! She was very angry, you may well think. But
I know she can't be made worse than she is.

She came up again. Are you ready? said she. Bless me, said I, you are
very hasty! I have heard of this not a quarter of an hour ago. But I
shall be soon ready; for I have but little to take with me, and no kind
friends in this house to take leave of, to delay me. Yet, like a fool, I
can't help crying.--Pray, said I, just step down, and ask, if I may not
have my papers.

So, I am quite ready now, against she comes up with an answer; and so I
will put up these few writings in my bosom, that I have left.

I don't know what to think--nor how to judge; but I shall never believe
I am with you, till I am on my knees before you, begging both your
blessings. Yet I am sorry he is so angry with me! I thought I did not
say so much!

There is, I see, the chariot drawn out, the horses too, the grim
Colbrand going to get on horseback. What will be the end of all this?

Monday.

Well, where this will end, I cannot say. But here I am, at a little poor
village, almost such a one as yours! I shall learn the name of it by
and by: and Robin assures me, he has orders to carry me to you, my dear
father and mother. O that he may say truth, and not deceive me again!
But having nothing else to do, and I am sure I shall not sleep a wink
t