st say inhuman, dealing of my own son, which
has both ruined my family, and in a word has broken my
heart.... I depended upon him, I trusted him, I gave up
my two dear unprovided children into his hands; but he
has no compassion, but suffers them and their poor dying
mother to beg their bread at his door, and to crave, as it
were an alms, what he is bound under hand and seal, besides
the most sacred promises, to supply them with, himself at
the same time living in a profusion of plenty. It is too
much for me. Excuse my infirmity, I can say no more; my
heart is too full. I only ask one thing of you as a dying request.
Stand by them when I am gone, and let them not be
wronged while he is able to do them right. Stand by them
as a brother; and if you have anything within you owing to
my memory, who have bestowed on you the best gift I have
to give, let them not be injured and trampled on by false
pretences and unnatural reflections. I hope they will want
no help but that of comfort and council; but that they will
indeed want, being too easy to be managed by words and
promises."

The postscript to the letter shows that Baker had written to him about
selling the house, which, it may be remembered, was the security for
Mrs. Baker's portion, and had inquired about a policy of assurance. "I
wrote you a letter some months ago, in answer to one from you, about
selling the house; but you never signified to me whether you received
it. I have not the policy of assurance; I suppose my wife, or Hannah,
may have it." Baker's ignoring the previous letter about the house seems
to signify that it was unsatisfactory. He apparently wished for a
personal interview with Defoe. In the beginning of the present letter
Defoe had said that, though far from debarring a visit from his
son-in-law, circumstances, much to his sorrow, made it impossible that
he could receive a visit from anybody. After the charge against his son,
which we have quoted, he goes on to explain that it is impossible for
him to go to see Mr. Baker. His family apparently had been ignorant of
his movements for some time. "I am at a distance from London, in Kent;
nor have I a lodging in London, nor have I been at that place in the
Old Bailey since I wrote you I was removed from it. At present I am
weak, having had some fits of a fever that have left me low." He
suggests, indeed, a plan by which he might see his son-in-law