endured," inspired a sentiment of
gratitude to heaven; and her eyes filled with delicious tears, when, at
the conclusion of his letter, wishing to supply the place of her unworthy
relations, whose want of principle he execrated, he assured her, calling
her his dearest girl, "that it should henceforth be the business of his
life to make her happy."

He begged, in a note sent the following morning, to be permitted to see
her, when his presence would be no intrusion on her grief; and so
earnestly intreated to be allowed, according to promise, to beguile the
tedious moments of absence, by dwelling on the events of her past life,
that she sent him the memoirs which had been written for her daughter,
promising Jemima the perusal as soon as he returned them.

CHAP. VII.

"ADDRESSING these memoirs to you, my child, uncertain whether I shall
ever have an opportunity of instructing you, many observations will
probably flow from my heart, which only a mother--a mother schooled in
misery, could make.

"The tenderness of a father who knew the world, might be great; but could
it equal that of a mother--of a mother, labouring under a portion of the
misery, which the constitution of society seems to have entailed on all
her kind? It is, my child, my dearest daughter, only such a mother, who
will dare to break through all restraint to provide for your
happiness--who will voluntarily brave censure herself, to ward off
sorrow from your bosom. From my narrative, my dear girl, you may gather
the instruction, the counsel, which is meant rather to exercise than
influence your mind.--Death may snatch me from you, before you can weigh
my advice, or enter into my reasoning: I would then, with fond anxiety,
lead you very early in life to form your grand principle of action, to
save you from the vain regret of having, through irresolution, let the
spring-tide of existence pass away, unimproved, unenjoyed.--Gain
experience--ah! gain it--while experience is worth having, and acquire
sufficient fortitude to pursue your own happiness; it includes your
utility, by a direct path. What is wisdom too often, but the owl of the
goddess, who sits moping in a desolated heart; around me she shrieks,
but I would invite all the gay warblers of spring to nestle in your
blooming bosom.--Had I not wasted years in deliberating, after I ceased
to doubt, how I ought to have acted--I might now be useful and
happy.--For my sake, warned by my example, always