r. In solitude and misery,
abandoned by all, unassisted by Art, uncomforted by Friendship, with
pangs which if witnessed would have touched the hardest heart, was I
delivered of my wretched burthen. It came alive into the world; But I
knew not how to treat it, or by what means to preserve its existence.
I could only bathe it with tears, warm it in my bosom, and offer up
prayers for its safety. I was soon deprived of this mournful
employment: The want of proper attendance, my ignorance how to nurse
it, the bitter cold of the dungeon, and the unwholesome air which
inflated its lungs, terminated my sweet Babe's short and painful
existence. It expired in a few hours after its birth, and I witnessed
its death with agonies which beggar all description.

But my grief was unavailing. My Infant was no more; nor could all my
sighs impart to its little tender frame the breath of a moment. I rent
my winding-sheet, and wrapped in it my lovely Child. I placed it on my
bosom, its soft arm folded round my neck, and its pale cold cheek
resting upon mine. Thus did its lifeless limbs repose, while I covered
it with kisses, talked to it, wept, and moaned over it without
remission, day or night. Camilla entered my prison regularly once every
twenty-four hours, to bring me food. In spite of her flinty nature,
She could not behold this spectacle unmoved. She feared that grief so
excessive would at length turn my brain, and in truth I was not always
in my proper senses. From a principle of compassion She urged me to
permit the Corse to be buried: But to this I never would consent. I
vowed not to part with it while I had life: Its presence was my only
comfort, and no persuasion could induce me to give it up. It soon
became a mass of putridity, and to every eye was a loathsome and
disgusting Object; To every eye but a Mother's. In vain did human
feelings bid me recoil from this emblem of mortality with repugnance:
I withstood, and vanquished that repugnance. I persisted in holding my
Infant to my bosom, in lamenting it, loving it, adoring it! Hour after
hour have I passed upon my sorry Couch, contemplating what had once
been my Child: I endeavoured to retrace its features through the livid
corruption, with which they were overspread: During my confinement this
sad occupation was my only delight; and at that time Worlds should not
have bribed me to give it up. Even when released from my prison, I
brought away my Child in my arms.