ions, the
disappointments, and contumelies, that she has met with; but, like
cowards, should have slid out of the world, basely, by some back-door;
that is to say, by a sword, by a pistol, by a halter, or knife;--but here
is a fine-principled woman, who, by dint of this noble consideration, as
I imagine, [What else can support her?] that she has not deserved the
evils she contends with; and that this world is designed but as a
transitory state of the probation; and that she is travelling to another
and better; puts up with all the hardships of the journey; and is not to
be diverted from her course by the attacks of thieves and robbers, or any
other terrors and difficulties; being assured of an ample reward at the
end of it.

If thou thinkest this reflection uncharacteristic from a companion and
friend of thine, imaginest thou, that I profited nothing by my long
attendance on my uncle in his dying state; and from the pious reflections
of the good clergyman, who, day by day, at the poor man's own request,
visited and prayed by him?--And could I have another such instance, as
this, to bring all these reflections home to me?

Then who can write of good persons, and of good subjects, and be capable
of admiring them, and not be made serious for the time? And hence may we
gather what a benefit to the morals of men the keeping of good company
must be; while those who keep only bad, must necessarily more and more
harden, and be hardened.

***

'Tis twelve of the clock, Sunday night--I can think of nothing but this
excellent creature. Her distresses fill my head and my heart. I was
drowsy for a quarter of an hour; but the fit is gone off. And I will
continue the melancholy subject from the information of these wretches.
Enough, I dare say, will arise in the visit I shall make, if admitted
to-morrow, to send by thy servant, as to the way I am likely to find her
in.

After the women had left her, she complained of her head and her heart;
and seemed terrified with apprehensions of being carried once more to
Sinclair's.

Refusing any thing for breakfast, Mrs. Rowland came up to her, and told
her, (as these wretches owned they had ordered her, for fear she should
starve herself,) that she must and should have tea, and bread and butter:
and that, as she had friends who could support her, if she wrote to them,
it was a wrong thing, both for herself and them, to starve herself thus.

If it be for your own sakes, said she