ssed by his past misfortunes, however severe they have
been; it is probable he may be hardy enough yet to venture on a second
trial of that state, can he find any good girl candid enough _to venture
on him_: but however this may be, from many important considerations the
poor man is willing to give the world all the satisfaction in his power,
relating to the unhappy woman who was lately his wife, and on whose
account he has gone through so much trouble and anxiety from his first
connexion with her: and it is charitably hoped, that, as he has so
solemnly authenticated the particulars of it, the same degree of
credibility will be allowed _him_, which would be granted to any other
person of fair character and good estimation.

The following particulars concerning this unfortunate couple, were
penned by _Thomas Daniels_ himself, since his enlargement; and are
faithfully exhibited with no other alterations than what were absolutely
necessary, with regard to spelling, style, and disposition, to render
the narrative in some measure clear and fit for perusal. This dressing
was not intended to give any undue colouring to facts, but simply to
supply the deficiencies of the writer; whose laborious situation in life
has denied him those literary advantages indispensable to the writing
his story with tolerable propriety.

Thus much being premised, it is time to let the principal offer his
plea, as candidate for the favourable opinion of his readers.

"It was in the year 1757 that I first became acquainted with _Sarah
Carridine_, by living in the same neighbourhood. She was a very pretty
girl; and I had a great affection for her, as I imagined her to be a
good industrious person. I made my friends acquainted with my regard for
her, but they were entirely against my having her, because of her living
in a public-house: but I was obstinate, and told them I loved her and
would marry her at all adventures, as I believed she would make a good
wife: upon this they said I might have another far preferable to her,
but that if I was resolved not to listen to their advice, they would
have nothing more to say to me, and I should never come near them more.
Finding therefore it was in vain to hope for my father's consent in this
affair, I consulted with her what to do, and at her desire I agreed that
she should take a lodging for us both, and her mother took one
accordingly. I then left my former lodging and lived with her; but as I
still worked