by his marriage with Marguerite d'Almont, a young lady of great merit
and fortune, and a native of Avignon.

"A long period of suspense was now at an end, and left me in a state
almost as full of anguish as that which our first separation produced.
My sorrows were increased by my mother's death, and, this incident
freeing me from those restraints upon my motions which before existed, I
determined to come to America.

"My son was now eight years old, and, his grandfather claiming the
province of his instruction, I was persuaded to part with him, that he
might be sent to a distant school. Thus was another tie removed, and, in
spite of the well-meant importunities of my friends, I persisted in my
scheme of crossing the ocean."

I could not help, at this part of her narration, expressing my surprise
that any motives were strong enough to recommend this scheme.

"It was certainly a freak of despair. A few months would, perhaps, have
allayed the fresh grief, and reconciled me to my situation; but I would
not pause or deliberate. My scheme was opposed by my friends with great
earnestness. During my voyage, affrighted by the dangers which
surrounded me, and to which I was wholly unused, I heartily repented of
my resolution; but now, methinks, I have reason to rejoice at my
perseverance. I have come into a scene and society so new, I have had so
many claims made upon my ingenuity and fortitude, that my mind has been
diverted in some degree from former sorrows. There are even times when I
wholly forget them, and catch myself indulging in cheerful reveries.

"I have often reflected with surprise on the nature of my own mind. It
is eight years since my father's violent death. How few of my hours
since that period have been blessed with serenity! How many nights and
days, in hateful and lingering succession, have been bathed in tears and
tormented with regrets! That I am still alive, with so many causes of
death, and with such a slow-consuming malady, is surely to be wondered
at.

"I believe the worst foes of man, at least of men in grief, are solitude
and idleness. The same eternally-occurring round of objects feeds his
disease, and the effects of mere vacancy and uniformity are sometimes
mistaken for those of grief. Yes, I am glad I came to America. My
relations are importunate for my return, and till lately I had some
thoughts of it; but I think now I shall stay where I am for the rest of
my days.

"Since I arrived, I am