r me in the way wherein I walked.

Keep me from the snares which he hath laid for me, and the gins of this
worker of iniquity.

The enemy hath persecuted my soul. He hath smitten my life down to the
ground. He hath made me dwell in darkness, as those that have been long
dead.

Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me. My heart within me is
desolate.

Hide not thy face from me in the day when I am in trouble.

For my days are consumed like smoke: and my bones are burnt as the
hearth.

My heart is smitten and withered like grass: so that I forget to eat my
bread.

By reason of the voice of my groaning, my bones cleave to my skin.

I am like a pelican of the wilderness. I am like an owl of the desart.

I watch; and am as a sparrow alone upon the house-top.

I have eaten ashes like bread; and mingled my drink with weeping:

Because of thine indignation, and thy wrath: for thou hast lifted me up,
and cast me down.

My days are like a shadow that declineth, and I am withered like grass.

Grant not, O Lord, the desires of the wicked: further not his devices,
lest he exalt himself.

Why now, Mrs. Lovick, said I, when I had read this meditation, as she
called it, I think I am very severely treated by the lady, if she mean me
in all this. For how is it that I am the enemy of her soul, when I love
her both soul and body?

She says, that I am a violent man, and a wicked man.--That I have been
so, I own: but I repent, and only wish to have it in my power to repair
the injuries I have done her.

The gin, the snare, the net, mean matrimony, I suppose--But is it a crime
in me to wish to marry her? Would any other woman think it so? and
choose to become a pelican in the wilderness, or a lonely sparrow on the
house-top, rather than have a mate that would chirp about her all day and
all night?

She says, she has eaten ashes like bread--A sad mistake to be sure!--And
mingled her drink with weeping--Sweet maudlin soul! should I say of any
body confessing this, but Miss Harlowe.

She concludes with praying, that the desires of the wicked (meaning poor
me, I doubt) may not be granted; that my devices may not be furthered,
lest I exalt myself. I should undoubtedly exalt myself, and with reason,
could I have the honour and the blessing of such a wife. And if my
desires have so honourable an end, I know not why I should be called
wicked, and why I should not be allowed to hope, that my honest devices
may be