he city, but before my arrival she was dead.

This lady was entitled to my gratitude and esteem; I had received the
most essential benefits at her hand. I was not destitute of sensibility,
and was deeply affected by this event: I will own, however, that my
grief was lessened by reflecting on the consequences of her death, with
regard to my own condition. I had been ever taught to consider myself
as her heir, and her death, therefore, would free me from certain
restraints.

My aunt had a female servant, who had lived with her for twenty years:
she was married, but her husband, who was an artizan, lived apart
from her: I had no reason to suspect the woman's sincerity and
disinterestedness; but my aunt was no sooner consigned to the grave than
a will was produced, in which Dorothy was named her sole and universal
heir.

It was in vain to urge my expectations and my claims.... the instrument
was legibly and legally drawn up.... Dorothy was exasperated by my
opposition and surmises, and vigorously enforced her title. In a week
after the decease of my kinswoman, I was obliged to seek a new dwelling.
As all my property consisted in my cloths and my papers, this was easily
done.

My condition was now calamitous and forlorn. Confiding in the
acquisition of my aunt's patrimony, I had made no other provision for
the future; I hated manual labour, or any task of which the object was
gain. To be guided in my choice of occupations by any motive but the
pleasure which the occupation was qualified to produce, was intolerable
to my proud, indolent, and restive temper.

This resource was now cut off; the means of immediate subsistence
were denied me: If I had determined to acquire the knowledge of some
lucrative art, the acquisition would demand time, and, meanwhile, I was
absolutely destitute of support. My father's house was, indeed, open
to me, but I preferred to stifle myself with the filth of the kennel,
rather than to return to it.

Some plan it was immediately necessary to adopt. The exigence of my
affairs, and this reverse of fortune, continually occupied my thoughts;
I estranged myself from society and from books, and devoted myself to
lonely walks and mournful meditation.

One morning as I ranged along the bank of Schuylkill, I encountered a
person, by name Ludloe, of whom I had some previous knowledge. He was
from Ireland; was a man of some rank and apparently rich: I had met with
him before, but in mixed companies, w