I have every reason
to thank Heaven for a circumstance, which has proved to me how dear I am
to you, and has given me the happiness of gaining a friend and two dear
daughters. Can one complain of an event which has produced such
consequences, even though it was attended with some violence? But I
ought to do the savages justice,--this violence was as gentle as it
could be. I need only tell you Parabery was there, to convince you I was
well treated, and it was solely the sorrow of being parted from you that
affected my health. I shall be well now, and as soon as Jack can walk,
I shall be ready to embark for our happy island. I will now tell you how
I was brought away.

"When you and our three sons left, to make the tour of the island, I was
very comfortable; you had told me you might return late, or probably not
till next day, and when the evening passed away without seeing you, I
was not uneasy. Francis was constantly with me; we went together to
water the garden, and rested in the Grotto Ernestine; then I returned to
the house, took my wheel, and placed myself in my favourite colonnade,
where I should be the first to see your return. Francis, seeing me at
work, asked if he might go as far as the bridge to meet you; to which I
readily consented. He set out, and I was sitting, thinking of the
pleasure I should have in seeing you again, and hearing you relate your
voyage, when I saw Francis running, crying out, 'Mamma! mamma! there is
a canoe on the sea; I know it is ours; it is full of men,
perhaps savages.'

"'Silly little fellow!' said I, 'it is your father and brothers; if they
are in the canoe, there can be no doubt of it. Your father told me he
would bring it, and they would return by water; I had forgotten this
when I let you go. Now you can go and meet them on the shore; give me
your arm, and I will go too,' and we set off very joyfully to meet our
captors. I soon, alas! saw my error; it was, indeed, our canoe, but,
instead of my dear ones, there were in it six half-naked savages, with
terrible countenances, who landed and surrounded us. My blood froze with
fright, and if I had wished to flee, I was unable. I fell on the shore,
nearly insensible; still, I heard the cries of my dear Francis, who
clung to me, and held me with all his strength; at last my senses quite
failed me, and I only recovered to find myself lying at the bottom of
the canoe. My son, weeping over me, was trying to recover me, assisted
by one of