rove me in the wrong, I was very angry with
her, for daring to contradict me, and not submitting as quietly to be
punished wrongfully, as the foot-boy was forced to do.

'This is all I know of my life hitherto.'

Thus ended Miss Lucy Sly: and Miss Jenny Peace commended Miss Lucy for
her free confession of her faults, and said, 'She doubted not but she
would find the advantage of amending, and endeavouring to change a
disposition so very pernicious to her own peace and quiet, as well as
to that of all her friends;' but they now obeyed the summons of the
supper-bell, and soon after retired to rest.

THURSDAY. THE FOURTH DAY.

Our little company, as soon as the morning school-hours were over,
hastened to their arbour, and were attentive to what Miss Jenny Peace
should propose to them for their amusement till dinner-time; when Miss
Jenny, looking round upon them, said, 'that she had not at present any
story to read; but that she hoped, from Miss Dolly Friendly's example
yesterday, some of the rest might endeavour sometimes to furnish out
the entertainment of the day.' Upon which Miss Sukey Jennett said,
'that though she could not promise them such an agreeable story as Miss
Dolly's; yet she would read them a letter she had received the evening
before from her Cousin Peggy Smith, who lived at York; in which there
was a story that she thought very strange and remarkable. They were all
very desirous of it, when Miss Sukey read as follows:

'Dear cousin,--I promised, you know, to write to you when I had anything
to tell you; and as I think the following story very extraordinary, I
was willing to keep my word.

'Some time ago there came to settle in this city, a lady, whose name was
Dison. We all visited her: but she had so deep a melancholy, arising, as
it appeared, from a settled state of ill health, that nothing we could
do could afford her the least relief, or make her cheerful. In this
condition she languished amongst us five years, still continuing to grow
worse and worse.

'We all grieved at her fate. Her flesh was withered away; her appetite
decayed by degrees, till all food became nauseous to her sight; her
strength failed her; her feet could not support her tottering body,
lean and worn away as it was; and we hourly expected her death. When, at
last, she one day called her most intimate friends to her bedside, and,
as well as she could, spoke to the following purpose: "I know you all
pity me; but, ala