irth, and sometimes, being quite exhausted, they faint
away, and become insensible to what is passing; and when they recover a
little strength, find that the child, whether still-born or not, is
completely lifeless. In such a case, is it to be expected, when it could
answer no purpose, that a woman should divulge the secret? Will not the
best dispositions of mind urge her to preserve her character? She will
therefore hide every appearance of what has happened as well as she can;
though if the discovery be made, that conduct will be set down as a
proof of her guilt.

To be convinced, as I am, that such a case often happens, the reader
would wish perhaps to have some examples and illustrations. I have
generally observed, that in proportion as women more sincerely repent of
such ruinous indiscretions, it is more difficult to prevail upon them to
confess; and it is natural. Among other instances which might be
mentioned, I opened the bodies of two unmarried women, both of them of
irreproachable and unsuspected characters with all who knew them. Being
consulted about their healths, both of them deceived me. One of them I
suspected, and took pains to prevail with her to let me into the secret,
if it was so; promising that I would do her the best offices in my power
to help her out of the difficulties that might be hanging over her: but
it was to no purpose. They both died of racking pains in their bowels,
and of convulsions. Upon laying out of the dead bodies, in one of the
cases a dead child, not come to its full time, was found laying between
the unhappy mother's limbs; and in the other, a very large dead child
was discovered, only half born. Such instances will sufficiently shew
what a patient and fixed resolution the fear of shame will produce. A
young unmarried woman, having concealed her pregnancy, was delivered
during the night by herself. She was suspected; the room was searched,
and the child was found in her box, wrapped up in wet clothes. She
confessed that the child was hers, but denied the having murdered it, or
having had an intention to do so. I opened the child with Mr. Pinkstan,
of St. Alban's-street, and the lungs would not sink in water. Her
account of herself was this: she was a faithful and favourite servant in
a family, which she could not leave without a certainty of her situation
being discovered; and such a discovery she imagined would be certain
_ruin_ to her for life. Under this anguish of mind she w