Your honour, sir! Are you not that man's friend! I am not a friend, madam, to his vile actions to the most excellent of women.

Do you flatter me, sir? Then are you a MAN.But oh, sir, your friend, holding her face forward with great eagerness, your barbarous friend, what has he not to answer for!

There she stopt: her heart full; and putting her hand over her eyes and forehead, the tears trickled through her fingers: resenting thy barbarity, it seemed, as Cæsar did the stab from his distinguished Brutus !

Though she was so very much disordered, I thought I would not lose this opportunity to assert your innocence of this villanous arrest.

There is no defending the unhappy man in any of his vile actions by you, madam; but of this last outrage, by all that's good and sacred, he is inno

cent.

O wretches; what a sex is yours!-Have you all one dialect? Good and sacred!—If, sir, you can find an oath, or a vow, or an adjuration, that my ears have not been twenty times a day wounded with, then speak it, and I may again believe a MAN.

I was excessively touched at these words, knowing thy baseness, and the reason she had for them.

But say you, sir, for I would not, methinks, have the wretch capable of this sordid baseness !—Say you, that he is innocent of this last wickedness? Can you truly say that he is?

By the great God of heaven!

Nay, sir, if you swear, I must doubt you!If you yourself think your WORD insufficient, what reliance can I have on your OATH!-O that this my experience had not cost me so dear! But were. I to live a thousand years, I would always suspect the veracity of a swearer. Excuse me, sir;

but is it likely, that he who makes so free with his GOD, will scruple any thing that may serve his turn with his fellow-creatures?

This was a most affecting reprimand!

Madam, said I, I have a regard, a regard a gentleman ought to have, to my word; and whenever I forfeit it to you—

Nay, sir, don't be angry with me. It is grievous to me to question a gentleman's veracity. But your friend calls himself a gentleman-you know not what I have suffered by a gentleman!—And then again she wept.

I would give you, madam, demonstration, if your grief and your weakness would permit it, that he has no hand in this barbarous baseness: and that he resents it as it ought to be resented.

Well, well, sir, [with quickness] he will have his account to make up somewhere else; not to me. I should not be sorry to find him able to acquit his intention on this occasion. Let him know, sir, only one thing, that, when you heard me in the bitterness of my spirit, most vehemently exclaim against the undeserved usage I have met with from him, that even then, in that passionate moment, I was able to say [and never did I see such an earnest and affecting exaltation of hands and eyes] Give him, good God! repentance and amendment: that I may be the last poor creature, who shall be ruined by him!—and, in thine own good time, receive to thy mercy, the poor wretch who had none on

me!'

By my soul, I could not speak.-She had not her Bible before her for nothing.

I was forced to turn my head away, and to take out my handkerchief.

What an angel is this!-Even the gaoler, and his wife and maid, wept..

- Again, I wish thou hadst been there, that thou mightest have sunk down at her feet, and begun that moment to reap the effect of her generous wishes for thee; undeserving, as thou art, of any thing but perdition!

I represented to her, that she would be less free where she was from visits she liked not, than at her own lodgings. I told her that it would probably bring her, in particular, one visitor, who otherwise I would engage [but I durst not swear again, after the severe reprimand she had just given me] should not come near her, without her consent. And I expressed my surprise, that she should be unwilling to quit such a place as this; when it would be more than probable, that some of her friends, when it was known how bad she was, would visit her.

:

She said, the place, when she was first brought into it, was indeed very shocking to her but that she had found herself so weak and ill, and her griefs had so sunk her, that she did not expect to have lived till now; that therefore all places were alike to her for to die in a prison, was to die, and equally eligible as to die in a palace [palaces, she said, could have no attractions for a dying person:] but, that since she feared she was not so soon to be released as she had hoped; since she was suffered to be so little mistress of herself here; and since she might, by removal, be in the way of her dear friend's letters; she would hope, that she might depend upon the assurances I gave her, of being at full liberty to return to her last lodgings (otherwise she would provide herself with new ones, out of my knowledge as well as out of yours :) and that I was too much of a gentleman, to be concerned in carrying her back to the house she had so much reason to abhor; and to which she had been once before most vilely betrayed to her ruin.

I assured her in the strongest terms [but swore not] that you were resolved not to molest her; and, as a proof of the sincerity of my professions, besought her to give me directions (in pursuance of my friend's express desire) about sending all her apparel, and whatever belonged to her, to her new lodgings.

She seemed pleased; and gave me instantly out of her pocket her keys; asking me, if Mrs. Smith, whom I had named, might not attend me: and she would give her further directions: to which I cheerfully assented: and then she told me, that she would accept the chair I had offered her.

I withdrew; and took the opportunity to be civil to Rowland and his maid; for she found no fault with their behaviour, for what they were; and the fellow seems to be miserably poor. I sent also for the apothecary, who is as poor as the officer (and still poorer, I dare say, as to the skill required in his business;) and satisfied him beyond his hopes.

The lady, after I had withdrawn, attempted to read the letters I had brought her. But she could read but a little way in one of them, and had great emotions upon it.

She told the woman she would take a speedy opportunity to acknowledge her civilities and her husband's, and to satisfy the apothecary; who might send her his bill to her lodgings.

She gave the maid something; probably the only half-guinea she had: and then with difficulty, her limbs trembling under her, and supported by Mrs. Rowland, got down stairs.

I offered my arm: she was pleased to lean upon it. I doubt, sir, said she, as she moved, I have behaved rudely to you: but, if you knew all, you would forgive me.

I know enough, madam, to convince me, that

there is not such purity and honour in any woman upon earth; nor any one that has been so barbarously treated.

She looked at me very earnestly. What she thought I cannot say; but, in general, I never saw so much soul in a woman's eyes as in hers.

I ordered my servant (whose mourning made him less observable as such, and who had not been in the lady's eye) to keep the chair in view; and to bring me word how she did when set down. The fellow had the thought to step into the shop, just before the chair entered it, under the pretence of buying snuff; and so enabled himself to give me an account, that she was received with great joy by the good woman of the house; who told her, she was but just come in: and was preparing to attend her in High Holborn.-O Mrs. Smith, said she, as soon as she saw her, did you not think I was run away?—You don't know what I have suffered since I saw you. I have been in a prison! -Arrested for debts I owe not!-But, thank God, I am here!-Will you permit your maid—I have forgot her name already

Čatharine, madam

Will you let Catharine assist me to bed?—I have not had my clothes off since Thursday night.

What she further said, the fellow heard not, she leaning upon the maid, and going up stairs.

But dost thou not observe, what a strange, what an uncommon openness of heart reigns in this lady? She had been in a prison, she said, before a stranger in the shop, and before the maid-servant: and so, probably, she would have said, had there been twenty people in the shop.

The disgrace she cannot hide from herself, as she says in a letter to Lady Betty, she is not solicitous to conceal from the world!