Had I prayed sooner, I might have saved myself much sorrow and
distress. But as it was, I arose from my knees with feelings far less
hopeless and bitter. I then crept back to the house, and on looking in
at the window, I found that Robert had fallen asleep; so I opened the
door quietly, without disturbing his heavy slumbers, and laid myself
down to rest.

The events of this evening were no uncommon events to me. Each
succeeding day brought but the same rough treatment, the same
wretchedness and want. Robert grew worse and worse. He not only
destroyed all our peace, but brought noise and discord into the whole
neighborhood, till at last, for the sake of quiet, he was taken to the
house of correction. I never can forget that dreadful night when he was
carried away. He came home shockingly intoxicated. The little children
crept into the farthest corner of the house to shield themselves from
his fury. He threatened every thing with destruction. I was in danger of
my life, and ran for safety into the nearest house, where a poor widow
lived. Robert followed--we fastened the door--he swore he would set fire
to the building, and burn it over our heads. But some one passing by
heard the uproar, and went for the town officers. Several of them came,
just as my infatuated husband was pelting the window with stones. They
took him away by force, while he was uttering the most shocking oaths. I
sat down and wept with shame and vexation. My little Jane put her arm
round my neck, and said, "Don't cry, ma--he has gone--wicked pa has
gone, and I hope he will never come back--he is so cross, and beats us
so." I hardly knew what to say in answer to my little girl, but I felt
that it was a dreadful thing to have my children speak so of him whom I
would gladly have taught them to love and honor.

I determined, now my husband was away, to support my family by my own
work; for wretched as my home was, I could not bear to leave it and come
upon the town. I could not earn much, for my health was feeble, but I
managed, by depriving myself of several meals, to save enough to mend my
poor neighbor's window.

But Robert longed to regain his liberty. He resolved that he would do
better, and upon promising orderly conduct, was permitted to return to
his family. Badly as he had treated me, I was glad to see him back
again. He looked humble, and spoke to me kindly. He kissed the younger
children, too, and for a while every thing went on smoothly. To me