radventure, it would
be better to disguise it."

So agreed Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and I therefore had it written
_Gnow-land_; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly
recommended to me, as an assistant, I took possession of my shop, and
was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my
medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading.

And I was happy. I had enjoyment during the day; my profession was, at
all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived as a gentleman, or rather
I should say respectably. I was earning my own livelihood. I was a
useful member of society, and when I retired home to meals, and late at
night, I found, that if Cophagus and his wife had retired, Susannah
Temple always waited up, and remained with me a few minutes. I had
never been in love until I had fallen in with this perfect creature; but
my love for her was not the love of the world; I could not so depreciate
her--I loved her as a superior being--I loved her with fear and
trembling. I felt that she was too pure, too holy, too good for a vain
worldly creature like myself. I felt as if my destiny depended upon her
and her fiat; that if she favoured me, my happiness in this world and in
the next were secured; that if she rejected me, I was cast away for
ever. Such was my feeling for Susannah Temple, who, perfect as she was,
was still a woman, and perceived her power over me; but unlike the many
of her sex, exerted that power only to lead to what was right.
Insensibly almost, my pride was quelled, and I became humble and
religiously inclined. Even the peculiarities of the sect, their meeting
at their places of worship, their drawling, and their quaint manner of
talking, became no longer a subject of dislike. I found out causes and
good reasons for everything which before appeared strange--sermons in
stones, and good in everything. Months passed away--my business
prospered--I had nearly repaid the money advanced by Mr Cophagus. I
was in heart and soul a Quaker, and I entered into the fraternity with a
feeling that I could act up to what I had promised. I was happy, quite
happy, and yet I had never received from Susannah Temple any further
than the proofs of sincere friendship. But I had much of her society,
and we were now very, very intimate. I found out what warm, what
devoted feelings were concealed under her modest, quiet exterior--how
well her mind was stored, and how right was that mind.

Often