r house in the beginning of August, or latter
end of July, staid with us some months, and then he said he was
obliged to go for Scotland. My father seemed not pleased with him at
first, but they parted in great friendship, I thought; and I received
a letter from Cranstoun (which is now among my papers) full of respect
and tenderness for my father. But soon after he was gone my father,
who had either heard some ill of him, or was tired of so long an
affair, told me to let Mr. Cranstoun know, that I should wait the next
Sessions; but he must not come to his house till his affairs in
Scotland were settled. I obeyed his commands, and had a letter full of
love, and seeming misery, back in answer to mine; that he found that
he had lost my father's love, and feared he should mine too. He got
his mother and sisters to write to my father, and seemed to do all in
his power to force him to love him.

Some time after this he sent me word, that he had met with his old
friend Mrs. Morgan in Scotland, and that he would get some of those
powders he had before; and begged of me, if I loved him, to give them
to my father; for that they would make him kind to us again in this
affair, and make him stay with patience till the next Sessions; when,
upon his word, the appeal should be lodged. I wrote him back word, I
did not care for doing it, lest it should hurt my father's health. He
wrote me word, that it was quite innocent, and could not hurt him; and
how could I think that he would send any thing to hurt a father of
mine? and that self-interest would be reason enough lor him to take
care of his health.

Now, in this place, I must beg to clear up one thing, that I imagined
my poor father rich, and that Mr. Cranstoun did the same. As to
myself, it is, by all that's good, false. I have often told Mr.
Cranstoun, I knew my father was not worth what the world said; but
that if he lived I did not doubt but he would provide for us and ours,
as his business was so great, and life retired. I then supposed that
Mr. Cranstoun meant, by saying, that his own interests would make him
careful, to refer to such discourse.

Mr. Cranstoun's having then such strong reasons to know how necessary
my father's life must be, and I believing his honour to be so great,
and that his love was still greater; these were the reasons of my not
mistrusting that the powder would hurt my father, if I mixed it with
his tea. It not mixing well, I threw it away, and wrote h