The Fortunes & Misfortunes



of the Famous



Moll Flanders



&c.



Who was Born in Newgate, and during a Life of 

continu'd Variety for Threescore Years, besides her 

Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five times a 

Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year 

a Thief, Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, 

at last grew Rich, liv'd Honest, and dies a Penitent.  

Written from her own Memorandums . . .



by Daniel Defoe





THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE



The world is so taken up of late with novels and romances, 

that it will be hard for a private history to be taken for genuine, 

where the names and other circumstances of the person are 

concealed, and on this account we must be content to leave 

the reader to pass his own opinion upon the ensuing sheet, 

and take it just as he pleases.



The author is here supposed to be writing her own history, 

and in the very beginning of her account she gives the reasons 

why she thinks fit to conceal her true name, after which there 

is no occasion to say any more about that.



It is true that the original of this story is put into new words, 

and the style of the famous lady we here speak of is a little 

altered; particularly she is made to tell her own tale in modester 

words that she told it at first, the copy which came first to 

hand having been written in language more like one still in 

Newgate than one grown penitent and humble, as she 

afterwards pretends to be.



The pen employed in finishing her story, and making it what 

you now see it to be, has had no little difficulty to put it into 

a dress fit to be seen, and to make it speak language fit to be 

read.  When a woman debauched from her youth, nay, even 

being the offspring of debauchery and vice, comes to give an 

account of all her vicious practices, and even to descend to the 

particular occasions and circumstances by which she ran through 

in threescore years, an author must be hard put to it wrap it 

up so clean as not to give room, especially for vicious readers, 

to turn it to his disadvantage.



All possible care, however, has been taken to give no lewd 

ideas, no immodest turns in the new dressing up of this story; 

no, not to the worst parts of  her expressions.  To this purpose 

some of the vicious part of her life, which could not be 

modestly told, is quite left out, and several other parts are 

very much shortened.  What is left 'tis hoped will not offend 

the chastest reader or the modest hearer; and as the best use 

is made even of the worst story, the moral 'tis hoped will keep 

the reader serious, even where the story might incline him to 

be otherwise.  To give the history of a wicked life repented of, 

necessarily requires that thewicked part should be make as 

wicked as the real history of it will bear, to illustrate and give 

a beauty to the penitent part, which is certainly the best and 

brightest, if related with equal spirit and life.



It is suggested there cannot be the same life, the same brightness 

and beauty, in relating the penitent part as is in the criminal 

part.  If there is any truth in that suggestion, I must be allowed 

to say 'tis because there is not the same taste and relish in the 

reading, and indeed it is to true that the difference lies not in 

the real worth of the subject so much as in the gust and palate 

of the reader.



But as this work is chiefly recommended to those who know 

how to read it, and how to make the good uses of it which the 

story all along recommends to them, so it is to be hoped that 

such readers will be more leased with the moral than the fable, 

with the application than with the relation, and with the end 

of the writer than with the life of the person written of.



There is in this story abundance of delightful incidents, and 

all of them usefully applied.  There is an agreeable turn artfully 

given them in the relating, that naturally instructs the reader, 

either one way or other.  The first part of her lewd life with the 

young gentleman at Colchester has so many happy turns given 

it to expose the crime, and warn all whose circumstances are 

adapted to it, of the ruinous end of such things, and the foolish, 

thoughtless, and abhorred conduct of both the parties, that it 

abundantly atones for all the lively description she gives of her 

folly and wickedness.



The repentance of her lover at the Bath, and how brought by 

the just alarm of his fit of sickness to abandon her; the just 

caution given there against even the lawful intimacies of the 

dearest friends, and how unable they are to preserve the most 

solemn resolutions of virtue without divine assistance; these 

are parts which, to a just discernment, will appear to have 

more real beauty in them all the amorous chain of story which 

introduces it.



In a word, as the whole relation is carefully garbled of all the 

levity and looseness that was in it, so it all applied, and with 

the utmost care, to virtuous and religious uses.  None can, 

without being guilty of manifest injustice, cast any reproach 

upon it, or upon our design in publishing it.



The advocates for the stage have, in all ages, made this the 

great argument to persuade people that their plays are useful, 

and that they ought to be allowed in the most civilised and in 

the most religious government; namely, that they are applied 

to virtuous purposes, and that by the most lively representations, 

they fail not to recommend virtue and generous principles, and 

to discourage and expose all sorts of vice and corruption of 

manners; and were it true that they did so, and that they 

constantly adhered to that rule, as the test of their acting on 

the theatre, much might be said in their favour.



Throughout the infinite variety of this book, this fundamental 

is most strictly adhered to; there is not a wicked action in any 

part of it, but is first and last rendered unhappy and unfortunate; 

there is not a superlative villain brought upon the stage, but 

either he is brought to an unhappy end, or brought to be a 

penitent; there is not an ill thing mentioned but it is condemned, 

even in the relation, nor a virtuous, just thing but it carries its 

praise along with it.  What can more exactly answer the rule 

laid down, to recommend even those representations of things 

which have so many other just objections leaving against them? 

namely, of example, of bad company, obscene language, and 

the like.



Upon this foundation this book is recommended to the reader 

as a work from every part of which something may be learned, 

and some just and religious inference is drawn, by which the 

reader will have something of instruction, if he pleases to make 

use of it.

 

All the exploits of this lady of fame, in her depredations upon 

mankind, stand as so many warnings to honest people to 

beware of them, intimating to them by what methods innocent 

people are drawn in, plundered and robbed, and by consequence 

how to avoid them.  Her robbing a little innocent child, dressed 

fine by the vanity of the mother, to go to the dancing-school, 

is a good memento to such people hereafter, as is likewise her 

picking the gold watch from the young lady's side in the Park. 



Her getting a parcel from a hare-brained wench at the coaches 

in St. John Street; her booty made at the fire, and again at 

Harwich, all give us excellent warnings in such cases to be 

more present to ourselves in sudden surprises of every sort. 



Her application to a sober life and industrious management at 

last in Virginia, with her transported spouse, is a story fruitful 

of instruction to all the unfortunate creatures who are obliged 

to seek their re-establishment abroad, whether by the misery 

of transportation or other disaster; letting them know that 

diligence and application have their due encouragement, even 

in the remotest parts of the world, and that no case can be so 

low, so despicable, or so empty of  prospect, but that an 

unwearied industry will go a great way to deliver us from it, 

will in time raise the meanest creature to appear again the 

world, and give him a new case for his life.



There are a few of the serious inferences which we are led 

by the hand to in this book, and these are fully sufficient to 

justify any man in recommending it to the world, and much 

more to justify the publication of it.



There are two of the most beautiful parts still behind, which 

this story gives some idea of, and lets us into the parts of them, 

but they are either of them too long to be brought into the same 

volume, and indeed are, as I may call them, whole volumes of  

themselves, viz.: 1. The life of her governess, as she calls her,  

who had run through, it seems, in a few years, all the eminent  

degrees of a gentlewoman, a whore, and a bawd; a midwife 

and a midwife-keeper, as they are called; a pawnbroker, a 

childtaker, a receiver of thieves, and of thieves' purchase, 

that is to say, of stolen goods; and in a word, herself a thief, 

a breeder up of thieves and the like, and yet at last a penitent.



The second is the life of her transported husband, a highwayman, 

who it seems, lived a twelve years' life of successful villainy 

upon the road, and even at last came off so well as to be a 

volunteer transport, not a convict; and in whose life there is 

an incredible variety.



But, as I have said, these are things too long to bring in here, 

so neither can I make a promise of the coming out by 

themselves.



We cannot say, indeed, that this history is carried on quite to 

the end of the life of this famous Moll Flanders, as she calls 

herself, for nobody can write their own life to the full end of it, 

unless they can write it after they are dead.  But her husband's 

life, being written by a third hand, gives a full account of them 

both, how long they lived together in that country, and how 

they both came to England again, after about eight years, in 

which time they were grown very rich, and where she lived, 

it seems, to be very old, but was not so extraordinary a penitent 

as she was at first; it seems only that indeed she always spoke 

with abhorrence of her former life, and of every part of it.



In her last scene, at Maryland and Virginia, many pleasant 

things happened, which makes that part of her life very  

agreeable, but they are not told with the same elegancy as those 

accounted for by herself; so it is still to the more advantage that 

we break off here.





My true name is so well known in the records or registers 

at Newgate, and in the Old Bailey, and there are some things 

of such consequence still depending there, relating to my 

particular conduct, that it is not be expected I should set my 

name or the account of my family to this work; perhaps, after 

my death, it may be better known; at present it would not be 

proper, no not though a general pardon should be issued, even 

without exceptions and reserve of persons or crimes.



It is enough to tell you, that as some of my worst comrades, 

who are out of the way of doing me harm (having gone out of 

the world by the steps and the string, as I often expected to go ),

knew me by the name of Moll Flanders, so you may give me 

leave to speak of myself under that name till I dare own who 

I have been, as well as who I am.



I have been told that in one of neighbour nations, whether it 

be in France or where else I know not, they have an order from 

the king, that when any criminal is condemned, either to die, 

or to the galleys, or to be transported, if they leave any children, 

as such are generally unprovided for, by the poverty or forfeiture 

of their parents, so they are immediately taken into the care of  

the Government, and put into a hospital called the House of  

Orphans, where they are bred up, clothed, fed, taught, and 

when fit to go out, are placed out to trades or to services, so 

as to be well able to provide for themselves by an honest, 

industrious behaviour.



Had this been the custom in our country, I had not been left 

a poor desolate girl without friends, without clothes, without 

help or helper in the world, as was my fate; and by which I 

was not only exposed to very great distresses, even before I 

was capable either of understanding my case or how to amend 

it, but brought into a course of life which was not only scandalous 

in itself, but which in its ordinary course tended to the swift 

destruction both of soul and body.



But the case was otherwise here.  My mother was convicted 

of felony for a certain petty theft scarce worth naming, viz. 

having an opportunity of borrowing three pieces of fine holland 

of a certain draper in Cheapside.  The circumstances are too 

long to repeat, and I have heard them related so many ways, 

that I can scarce be certain which is the right account.



However it was, this they all agree in, that my mother pleaded 

her belly, and being found quick with child, she was respited 

for about seven months; in which time having brought me into 

the world, and being about again, she was called down, as they 

term it, to her former judgment, but obtained the favour of 

being transported to the plantations, and left me about half a 

year old; and in bad hands, you may be sure.



This is too near the first hours of my life for me to relate 

anything of myself but by hearsay; it is enough to mention, 

that as I was born in such an unhappy place, I had no parish 

to have recourse to for my nourishment in my infancy; nor 

can I give the least account how I was kept alive, other than 

that, as I have been told, some relation of my mother's took 

me away for a while as a nurse, but at whose expense, or by 

whose direction, I know nothing at all of it.



The first account that I can recollect, or could ever learn of  

myself, was that I had wandered among a crew of those people 

they call gypsies, or Egyptians; but I believe it was but a very 

little while that I had been among them, for I had not had my 

skin discoloured or blackened, as they do very young to all the 

children they carry about with them; nor can I tell how I came 

among them, or how I got from them.



It was at Colchester, in Essex, that those people left me; and 

I have a notion in my head that I left them there (that is, that 

I hid myself and would not go any farther with them), but I am 

not able to be particular in that account; only this I remember, 

that being taken up by some of the parish officers of Colchester, 

I gave an account that I came into the town with the gypsies, 

but that I would not go any farther with them, and that so they 

had left me, but whither they were gone that I knew not, nor 

could they expect it of me; for though they send round the 

country to inquire after them, it seems they could not be found. 



I was now in a way to be provided for; for though I was not a 

parish charge upon this or that part of the town by law, yet as 

my case came to be known, and that I was too young to do any 

work, being not above three years old, compassion moved the 

magistrates of the town to order some care to be taken of me, 

and I became one of their own as much as if I had been born 

in the place.



In the provision they made for me, it was my good hap to be 

put to nurse, as they call it, to a woman who was indeed poor 

but had been in better circumstances, and who got a little 

livelihood by taking such as I was supposed to be, and keeping 

them with all necessaries, till they were at a certain age, in 

which it might be supposed they might go to service or get 

their own bread.



This woman had also had a little school, which she kept to 

teach children to read and to work; and having, as I have said, 

lived before that in good fashion, she bred up the children she 

took with a great deal of art, as well as with a great deal of care.



But that which was worth all the rest, she bred them up very 

religiously, being herself a very sober, pious woman, very house- 

wifely and clean, and very mannerly, and with good behaviour.  

So that in a word, expecting a plain diet, coarse lodging, and 

mean clothes, we were brought up as mannerly and as genteelly

as if we had been at the dancing-school.



I was continued here till I was eight years old, when I was 

terrified with news that the magistrates (as I think they called 

them) had ordered that I should go to service.  I was able to 

do but very little service wherever I was to go, except it was 

to run of errands and be a drudge to some cookmaid, and this 

they told me of often, which put me into a great fright; for I 

had a thorough aversion to going to service, as they called it 

(that is, to be a servant), though I was so young; and I told my 

nurse, as we called her, that I believed I could get my living 

without going to service, if she pleased to let me; for she had 

taught me to work with my needle, and spin worsted, which 

is the chief trade of that city, and I told her that if she would 

keep me, I would work for her, and I would work very hard.



I talked to her almost every day of working hard; and, in short, 

I did nothing but work and cry all day, which grieved the good, 

kind woman so much, that at last she began to be concerned 

for me, for she loved me very well.



One day after this, as she came into the room where all we 

poor children were at work, she sat down just over against me, 

not in her usual place as mistress, but as if she set herself on 

purpose to observe me and see me work.  I was doing something 

she had set me to; as I remember, it was marking some shirts 

which she had taken to make, and after a while she began to 

talk to me.  'Thou foolish child,' says she, 'thou art always 

crying (for I was crying then); 'prithee, what dost cry for?'  

'Because they will take me away,' says I, 'and put me to service, 

and I can't work housework.'  'Well, child,' says she, 'but 

though you can't work housework, as you call it, you will learn 

it in time, and they won't put you to hard things at first.'  'Yes, 

they will,' says I, 'and if I can't do it they will beat me, and the 

maids will beat me to make me do great work, and I am but a 

little girl and I can't do it'; and then I cried again, till I could 

not speak any more to her.



This moved my good motherly nurse, so that she from that 

time resolved I should not go to service yet; so she bid me not 

cry, and she would speak to Mr. Mayor, and I should not go to 

service till I was bigger.



Well, this did not satisfy me, for to think of going to service 

was such a frightful thing to me, that if she had assured me I 

should not have gone till I was twenty years old, it would have 

been the same to me; I should have cried, I believe, all the 

time, with the very apprehension of its being to be so at last.



When she saw that I was not pacified yet, she began to be 

angry with me.  'And what would you have?' says she; 'don't 

I tell you that you shall not go to service till your are bigger?'  

'Ay,' said I, 'but then I must go at last.'  'Why, what?' said she; 

'is the girl mad?  What would you be -- a gentlewoman?' 

'Yes,' says I, and cried heartily till I roard out again.



This set the old gentlewoman a-laughing at me, as you may be 

sure it would.  'Well, madam, forsooth,' says she, gibing at me, 

'you would be a gentlewoman; and pray how will you come to 

be a gentlewoman?  What! will you do it by your fingers' end?' 



'Yes,' says I again, very innocently.



'Why, what can you earn?' says she; 'what can you get at your 

work?'



'Threepence,' said I, 'when I spin, and fourpence when I work 

plain work.'



'Alas! poor gentlewoman,' said she again, laughing, 'what will 

that do for thee?'



'It will keep me,' says I, 'if you will let me live with you.'  And 

this I said in such a poor petitioning tone, that it made the poor 

woman's heart yearn to me, as she told me afterwards.



'But,' says she, 'that will not keep you and buy you clothes 

too; and who must buy the little gentlewoman clothes?' says 

she, and smiled all the while at me.



'I will work harder, then,' says I, 'and you shall have it all.' 



'Poor child! it won't keep you,' says she; 'it will hardly keep 

you in victuals.'



'Then I will have no victuals,' says I, again very innocently; 

'let me but live with you.'



'Why, can you live without victuals?' says she.



'Yes,' again says I, very much like a child, you may be sure,

and still I cried heartily.



I had no policy in all this; you may easily see it was all nature; 

but it was joined with so much innocence and so much passion 

that, in short, it set the good motherly creature a-weeping too, 

and she cried at last as fast as I did, and then took me and led 

me out of the teaching-room.  'Come,' says she, 'you shan't 

go to service; you shall live with me'; and this pacified me 

for the present.



Some time after this, she going to wait on the Mayor, and 

talking of such things as belonged to her business, at last my 

story came up, and my good nurse told Mr. Mayor the whole 

tale.  He was so pleased with it, that he would call his lady 

and his two daughters to hear it, and it made mirth enough 

among them, you may be sure.



However, not a week had passed over, but on a sudden comes 

Mrs. Mayoress and her two daughters to the house to see my 

old nurse, and to see her school and the children.  When they 

had looked about them a little, 'Well, Mrs.----,' says the 

Mayoress to my nurse, 'and pray which is the little lass that 

intends to be a gentlewoman?'  I heard her, and I was terribly 

frighted at first, though I did not know why neither; but Mrs. 

Mayoress comes up to me.  'Well, miss,' says she, 'and what 

are you at work upon?'  The word miss was a language that 

had hardly been heard of in our school, and I wondered what 

sad name it was she called me.  However, I stood up, made a 

curtsy, and she took my work out of my hand, looked on it, 

and said it was very well; then she took up one of the hands.  

'Nay,' says she, 'the child may come to be a gentlewoman for 

aught anybody knows; she has a gentlewoman's hand,' says she.  

This pleased me mightily, you may be sure; but Mrs. Mayoress 

did not stop there, but giving me my work again, she put her 

hand in her pocket, gave me a shilling, and bid me mind my 

work, and learn to work well, and I might be a gentlewoman 

for aught she knew.



Now all this while my good old nurse, Mrs. Mayoress, and all 

the rest of them did not understand me at all, for they meant 

one sort of thing by the word gentlewoman, and I meant quite 

another; for alas! all I understood by being a gentlewoman was 

to be able to work for myself, and get enough to keep me 

without that terrible bugbear going to service, whereas they 

meant to live great, rich and high, and I know not what.



Well, after Mrs. Mayoress was gone, her two daughters came 

in, and they called for the gentlewoman too, and they talked 

a long while to me, and I answered them in my innocent way; 

but always, if they asked me whether I resolved to be a 

gentlewoman, I answered Yes.  At last one of them asked me 

what a gentlewoman was?  That puzzled me much; but, 

however, I explained myself negatively, that it was one that 

did not go to service, to do housework.  They were pleased 

to be familiar with me, and like my little prattle to them, which, 

it seems, was agreeable enough to them, and they gave me 

money too.



As for my money, I gave it all to my mistress-nurse, as I called 

her, and told her she should have all I got for myself when I 

was a gentlewoman, as well as now.  By this and some other 

of my talk, my old tutoress began to understand me about what 

I meant by being a gentlewoman, and that I understood by it 

no more than to be able to get my bread by my own work; and 

at last she asked me whether it was not so.



I told her, yes, and insisted on it, that to do so was to be a 

gentlewoman; 'for,' says I, 'there is such a one,' naming a 

woman that mended lace and washed the ladies' laced-heads; 

'she,' says I, 'is a gentlewoman, and they call her madam.'



"Poor child,' says my good old nurse, 'you may soon be such 

a gentlewoman as that, for she is a person of ill fame, and has 

had two or three bastards.'



I did not understand anything of that; but I answered, 'I am 

sure they call her madam, and she does not go to service nor 

do housework'; and therefore I insisted that she was a 

gentlewoman, and I would be such a gentlewoman as that.



The ladies were told all this again, to be sure, and they made 

themselves merry with it, and every now and then the young 

ladies, Mr. Mayor's daughters, would come and see me, and 

ask where the little gentlewoman was, which made me not a 

little proud of myself.



This held a great while, and I was often visited by these young 

ladies, and sometimes they brought others with them; so that I 

was known by it almost all over the town.



I was now about ten years old, and began to look a little  

womanish, for I was mighty grave and humble, very mannerly, 

and as I had often heard the ladies say I was pretty, and would 

be a very handsome woman, so you may be sure that hearing 

them say so made me not a little proud.  However, that pride 

had no ill effect upon me yet; only, as they often gave me 

money, and I gave it to my old nurse, she, honest woman, 

was so just to me as to lay it all out again for me, and gave 

me head-dresses, and linen, and gloves, and ribbons, and I 

went very neat, and always clean; for that I would do, and if 

I had rags on, I would always be clean, or else I would dabble 

them in water myself; but, I say, my good nurse, when I had 

money given me, very honestly laid it out for me, and would 

always tell the ladies this or that was bought with their money; 

and this made them oftentimes give me more, till at last I was 

indeed called upon by the magistrates, as I understood it, to 

go out to service; but then I was come to be so good a 

workwoman myself, and the ladies were so kind to me, that it 

was plain I could maintain myself--that is to say, I could earn 

as much for my nurse as she was able by it to keep me--so she 

told them that if they would give her leave, she would keep 

the gentlewoman, as she called me, to be her assistant and 

teach the children, which I was very well able to do; for I was 

very nimble at my work, and had a good hand with my needle, 

though I was yet very young.



But the kindness of the ladies of the town did not end here, 

for when they came to understand that I was no more maintained 

by the public allowance as before, they gave me money oftener 

than formerly; and as I grew up they brought me work to do 

for them, such as linen to make, and laces to mend, and heads 

to dress up, and not only paid me for doing them, but even 

taught me how to do them; so that now I was a gentlewoman 

indeed, as I understood that word, I not only found myself 

clothes and paid my nurse for my keeping, but got money in 

my pocket too beforehand.



The ladies also gave me clothes frequently of their own or 

their children's; some stockings, some petticoats, some gowns, 

some one thing, some another, and these my old woman 

managed for me like a mere mother, and kept them for me, 

obliged me to mend them, and turn them and twist them to 

the best advantage, for she was a rare housewife.



At last one of the ladies took so much fancy to me that she 

would have me home to her house, for a month, she said, to 

be among her daughters.



Now, though this was exceeding kind in her, yet, as my old 

good woman said to her, unless she resolved to keep me for 

good and all, she would do the little gentlewoman more harm 

than good.  'Well,' says the lady, 'that's true; and therefore I'll 

only take her home for a week, then, that I may see how my 

daughters and she agree together, and how I like her temper, 

and then I'll tell you more; and in the meantime, if anybody 

comes to see her as they used to do, you may only tell them 

you have sent her out to my house.'



This was prudently managed enough, and I went to the lady's 

house; but I was so pleased there with the young ladies, and 

they so pleased with me, that I had enough to do to come away, 

and they were as unwilling to part with me.



However, I did come away, and lived almost a year more with 

my honest old woman, and began now to be very helpful to 

her; for I was almost fourteen years old, was tall of my age, 

and looked a little womanish; but I had such a taste of genteel 

living at the lady's house that I was not so easy in my old 

quarters as I used to be, and I thought it was fine to be a 

gentlewoman indeed, for I had quite other notions of a 

gentlewoman now than I had before; and as I thought, I say, 

that it was fine to be a gentlewoman, so I loved to be among 

gentlewomen, and therefore I longed to be there again.



About the time that I was fourteen years and a quarter old, 

my good nurse, mother I rather to call her, fell sick and died.  

I was then in a sad condition indeed, for as there is no great 

bustle in putting an end to a poor body's family when once 

they are carried to the grave, so the poor good woman being 

buried, the parish children she kept were immediately removed 

by the church-wardens; the school was at an end, and the 

children of it had no more to do but just stay at home till they 

were sent somewhere else; and as for what she left, her daughter, 

a married woman with six or seven children, came and swept 

it all away at once, and removing the goods, they had no more 

to say to me than to jest with me, and tell me that the little 

gentlewoman might set up for herself if she pleased.



I was frighted out of my wits almost, and knew not what to do, 

for I was, as it were, turned out of doors to the wide world, and 

that which was still worse, the old honest woman had two-and-

twenty shillings of mine in her hand, which was all the estate the 

little gentlewoman had in the world; and when I asked the 

daughter for it, she huffed me and laughed at me, and told me 

she had nothing to do with it.



It was true the good, poor woman had told her daughter of it, 

and that it lay in such a place, that it was the child's money, 

and  had called once or twice for me to give it me, but I was, 

unhappily, out of the way somewhere or other, and when I 

came back she was past being in a condition to speak of it.  

However, the daughter was so honest afterwards as to give it 

me, though at first she used me cruelly about it.



Now was I a poor gentlewoman indeed, and I was just that 

very night to be turned into the wide world; for the daughter 

removed all the goods, and I had not so much as a lodging to 

go to, or a bit of bread to eat.  But it seems some of the neighbours, 

who had known my circumstances, took so much compassion 

of me as to acquaint the lady in whose family I had been a week, 

as I mentioned above; and immediately she sent her maid to 

fetch me away, and two of her daughters came with the maid 

though unsent.  So I went with them, bag and baggage, and 

with a glad heart, you may be sure.  The fright of my condition 

had made such an impression upon me, that I did not want now 

to be a gentlewoman, but was very willing to be a servant, and 

that any kind of servant they thought fit to have me be.



But my new generous mistress, for she exceeded the good 

woman I was with before, in everything, as well as in the 

matter of estate; I say, in everything except honesty; and for 

that, though this was a lady most exactly just, yet I must not 

forget to say on all occasions, that the first, though poor, was 

as uprightly honest as it was possible for any one to be.



I was no sooner carried away, as I have said, by this good 

gentlewoman, but the first lady, that is to say, the Mayoress 

that was, sent her two daughters to take care of me; and another 

family which had taken notice of me when I was the little 

gentlewoman, and had given me work to do, sent for me after 

her, so that I was mightily made of, as we say; nay, and they 

were not a little angry, especially madam the Mayoress, that 

her friend had taken me away from her, as she called it; for, 

as she said, I was hers by right, she having been the first that 

took any notice of me.  But they that had me would not part 

with me; and as for me, though I should have been very well 

treated with any of the others, yet I could not be better than 

where I was.



Here I continued till I was between seventeen and eighteen 

years old, and here I had all the advantages for my education 

that could be imagined; the lady had masters home to the 

house to teach her daughters to dance, and to speak French, 

and to write, and other to teach them music; and I was always 

with them, I learned as fast as they; and though the masters 

were not appointed to teach me, yet I learned by imitation and 

inquiry all that they learned by instruction and direction; so 

that, in short, I learned to dance and speak French as well as 

any of them, and to sing much better, for I had a better voice 

than any of them.  I could not so readily come at playing on 

the harpsichord or spinet, because I had no instrument of my 

own to practice on, and could only come at theirs in the intervals 

when they left it, which was uncertain; but yet I learned tolerably 

well too, and the young ladies at length got two instruments, 

that is to say, a harpsichord and a spinet too, and then they 

taught me themselves.  But as to dancing, they could hardly 

help my learning country-dances, because they always wanted 

me to make up even number; and, on the other hand, they were 

as heartily willing to learn me everything that they had been 

taught themselves, as I could be to take the learning.



By this means I had, as I have said above, all the advantages 

of education that I could have had if I had been as much a 

gentlewoman as they were with whom I lived; and in some 

things I had the advantage of my ladies, though they were my 

superiors; but they were all the gifts of nature, and which all 

their fortunes could not furnish.  First, I was apparently 

handsomer than any of them; secondly, I was better shaped; 

and, thirdly, I sang better, by which I mean I had a better voice; 

in all which you will, I hope, allow me to say, I do not speak 

my own conceit of myself, but the opinion of all that knew 

the family.



I had with all these the common vanity of my sex, viz. that 

being really taken for very handsome, or, if you please, for a 

great beauty, I very well knew it, and had as good an opinion 

of myself as anybody else could have of me; and particularly 

I loved to hear anybody speak of it, which could not but happen 

to me sometimes, and was a great satisfaction to me.



Thus far I have had a smooth story to tell of myself, and in all 

this part of my life I not only had the reputation of living in a 

very good family, and a family noted and respected everywhere 

for virtue and sobriety, and for every valuable thing; but I had 

the character too of a very sober, modest, and virtuous young 

woman, and such I had always been; neither had I yet any 

occasion to think of anything else, or to know what a temptation 

to wickedness meant.



But that which I was too vain of was my ruin, or rather my 

vanity was the cause of it.  The lady in the house where I was 

had two sons, young gentlemen of very promising parts and 

of extraordinary behaviour, and it was my misfortune to be 

very well with them both, but they managed themselves with 

me in a quite different manner.



The eldest, a gay gentleman that knew the town as well as the 

country, and though he had levity enough to do an ill-natured 

thing, yet had too much judgment of things to pay too dear 

for his pleasures; he began with the unhappy snare to all 

women, viz. taking notice upon all occasions how pretty I was, 

as he called it, how agreeable, how well-carriaged, and the 

like; and this he contrived so subtly, as if he had known as 

well how to catch a woman in his net as a partridge when he 

went a-setting; for he would contrive to be talking this to his 

sisters when, though I was not by, yet when he knew I was 

not far off but that I should be sure to hear him.  His sisters 

would return softly to him, 'Hush, brother, she will hear you; 

she is but in the next room.'  Then he would put it off and talk 

softlier, as if he had not know it, and begin to acknowledge he 

was wrong; and then, as if he had forgot himself, he would 

speak aloud again, and I, that was so well pleased to hear it, 

was sure to listen for it upon all occasions.



After he had thus baited his hook, and found easily enough 

the method how to lay it in my way, he played an opener game; 

and one day, going by his sister's chamber when I was there, 

doing something about dressing her, he comes in with an air 

of gaiety.  'Oh, Mrs. Betty,' said he to me, 'how do you do, 

Mrs. Betty?  Don't your cheeks burn, Mrs. Betty?'  I made a 

curtsy and blushed, but said nothing.  'What makes you talk so, 

brother?' says the lady.  'Why,' says he, 'we have been talking 

of her below-stairs this half-hour.'  'Well,' says his sister, 

'you can say no harm of her, that I am sure, so 'tis no matter 

what you have been talking about.' 'Nay,' says he, ''tis so far 

from talking harm of her, that we have been talking a great 

deal of good, and a great many fine things have been said of 

Mrs. Betty, I assure you; and particularly, that she is the 

handsomest young woman in Colchester; and, in short, they 

begin to toast her health in the town.'



'I wonder at you, brother,' says the sister.  Betty wants but one 

thing, but she had as good want everything, for the market is 

against our sex just now; and if a young woman have beauty, 

birth, breeding, wit, sense, manners, modesty, and all these to 

an extreme, yet if she have not money, she's nobody, she had 

as good want them all for nothing but money now recommends

a woman; the men play the game all into their own hands.'



Her younger brother, who was by, cried, 'Hold, sister, you run 

too fast; I am an exception to your rule.  I assure you, if I find 

a woman so accomplished as you talk of, I say, I assure you, I 

would not trouble myself about the money.'



'Oh,' says the sister, 'but you will take care not to fancy one, 

then, without the money.'



'You don't know that neither,' says the brother.



'But why, sister,' says the elder brother, 'why do you exclaim 

so at the men for aiming so much at the fortune?  You are none 

of them that want a fortune, whatever else you want.'



'I understand you, brother,' replies the lady very smartly; 'you 

suppose I have the money, and want the beauty; but as times 

go now, the first will do without the last, so I have the better 

of my neighbours.'



'Well,' says the younger brother, 'but your neighbours, as you 

call them, may be even with you, for beauty will steal a husband 

sometimes in spite of money, and when the maid chances to be 

handsomer than the mistress, she oftentimes makes as good a 

market, and rides in a coach before her.'



I thought it was time for me to withdraw and leave them, and 

I did so, but not so far but that I heard all their discourse, in 

which I heard abundance of the fine things said of myself, 

which served to prompt my vanity, but, as I soon found, was 

not the way to increase my interest in the family, for the sister 

and the younger brother fell grievously out about it; and as he 

said some very disobliging things to her upon my account, so 

I could easily see that she resented them by her future conduct 

to me, which indeed was very unjust to me, for I had never 

had the least thought of what she suspected as to her younger 

brother; indeed, the elder brother, in his distant, remote way, 

had said a great many things as in jest, which I had the folly 

to believe were in earnest, or to flatter myself with the hopes 

of what I ought to have supposed he never intended, and 

perhaps never thought of.



It happened one day that he came running upstairs, towards 

the room where his sisters used to sit and work, as he often 

used to do; and calling to them before he came in, as was his 

way too, I, being there alone, stepped to the door, and said, 

'Sir, the ladies are not here, they are walked down the garden.'  

As I stepped forward to say this, towards the door, he was just 

got to the door, and clasping me in his arms, as if it had been 

by chance, 'Oh, Mrs. Betty,' says he, 'are you here?  That's 

better still; I want to speak with you more than I do with them'; 

and then, having me in his arms, he kissed me three or four times.



I struggled to get away, and yet did it but faintly neither, and 

he held me fast, and still kissed me, till he was almost out of 

breath, and then, sitting down, says, 'Dear Betty, I am in love 

with you.'



His words, I must confess, fired my blood; all my spirits flew 

about my heart and put me into disorder enough, which he 

might easily have seen in my face.  He repeated it afterwards 

several times, that he was in love with me, and my heart spoke 

as plain as a voice, that I liked it; nay, whenever he said, 'I am 

in love with you,' my blushes plainly replied, 'Would you 

were, sir.'



However, nothing else passed at that time; it was but a sur-

prise, and when he was gone I soon recovered myself again.  

He had stayed longer with me, but he happened to look out 

at the window and see his sisters coming up the garden, so 

he took his leave, kissed me again, told me he was very serious, 

and I should hear more of him very quickly, and away he went, 

leaving me infinitely pleased, though surprised; and had there 

not been one misfortune in it, I had been in the right, but the 

mistake lay here, that Mrs. Betty was in earnest and the 

gentleman was not.



From this time my head ran upon strange things, and I may 

truly say I was not myself; to have such a gentleman talk to 

me of being in love with me, and of my being such a charming 

creature, as he told me I was; these were things I knew not 

how to bear, my vanity was elevated to the last degree.  It is 

true I had my head full of pride, but, knowing nothing of the 

wickedness of the times, I had not one thought of my own 

safety or of my virtue about me; and had my young master 

offered it at first sight, he might have taken any liberty he 

thought fit with me; but he did not see his advantage, which 

was my happiness for that time.



After this attack it was not long but he found an opportunity 

to catch me again, and almost in the same posture; indeed, it 

had more of design in it on his part, though not on my part.  It 

was thus:  the young ladies were all gone a-visiting with their 

mother; his brother was out of town; and as for his father, he 

had been in London for a week before.  He had so well watched 

me that he knew where I was, though I did not so much as know 

that he was in the house; and he briskly comes up the stairs and, 

seeing me at work, comes into the room to me directly, and 

began just as he did before, with taking me in his arms, and 

kissing me for almost a quarter of an hour together.



It was his younger sister's chamber that I was in, and as there 

was nobody in the house but the maids below-stairs, he was, 

it may be, the ruder; in short, he began to be in earnest with me 

indeed.  Perhaps he found me a little too easy, for God knows 

I made no resistance to him while he only held me in his arms 

and kissed me; indeed, I was too well pleased with it to resist 

him much.



However, as it were, tired with that kind of work, we sat down, 

and there he talked with me a great while; he said he was 

charmed with me, and that he could not rest night or day till 

he had told me how he was in love with me, and, if I was able 

to love him again, and would make him happy, I should be the 

saving of his life, and many such fine things.  I said little to 

him again, but easily discovered that I was a fool, and that I 

did not in the least perceive what he meant.



Then he walked about the room, and taking me by the hand, 

I walked with him; and by and by, taking his advantage, he 

threw me down upon the bed, and kissed me there most 

violently; but, to give him his due, offered no manner of 

rudeness to me, only kissed a great while.  After this he 

thought he had heard somebody come upstairs, so got off from 

the bed, lifted me up, professing a great deal of love for me, 

but told me it was all an honest affection, and that he meant 

no ill to me; and with that he put five guineas into my hand, 

and went away downstairs.



I was more confounded with the money than I was before with 

the love, and began to be so elevated that I scarce knew the 

ground I stood on.  I am the more particular in this part, that 

if my story comes to be read by any innocent young body, they 

may learn from it to guard themselves against the mischiefs 

which attend an early knowledge of their own beauty.  If a 

young woman once thinks herself handsome, she never doubts 

the truth of any man that tells her he is in love with her; for if 

she believes herself charming enough to captivate him, 'tis 

natural to expect the effects of it.



This young gentleman had fired his inclination as much as he 

had my vanity, and, as if he had found that he had an opportunity 

and was sorry he did not take hold of it, he comes up again in 

half an hour or thereabouts, and falls to work with me again as 

before, only with a little less introduction.



And first, when he entered the room, he turned about and shut 

the door.  'Mrs. Betty,' said he, 'I fancied before somebody 

was coming upstairs, but it was not so; however,' adds he, 

'if they find me in the room with you, they shan't catch me 

a-kissing of you.' I told him I did not know who should be 

coming upstairs, for I believed there was nobody in the house 

but the cook and the other maid, and they never came up those 

stairs.  'Well, my dear,' says he, ''tis good to be sure, however'; 

and so he sits down, and we began to talk.  And now, though 

I was still all on fire with his first visit, and said little, he did 

as it were put words in my mouth, telling me how passionately 

he loved me, and that though he could not mention such a thing 

till he came to this estate, yet he was resolved to make me happy 

then, and himself too; that is to say, to marry me, and abundance 

of such fine things, which I, poor fool, did not understand the 

drift of, but acted as if there was no such thing as any kind of 

love but that which tended tomatrimony; and if he had spoke 

of that, I had no room, as well as no power, to have said no; 

but we were not come that length yet.



We had not sat long, but he got up, and, stopping my very 

breath with kisses, threw me upon the bed again; but then 

being both well warmed, he went farther with me than decency 

permits me to mention, nor had it been in my power to have 

denied him at that moment, had he offered much more than 

he did.



However, though he took these freedoms with me, it did not 

go to that which they call the last favour, which, to do him 

justice, he did not attempt; and he made that self-denial of his 

a plea for all his freedoms with me upon other occasions after 

this.  When this was over, he stayed but a little while, but he 

put almost a handful of gold in my hand, and left me, making 

a thousand protestations of his passion for me, and of his 

loving me above all the women in the world.



It will not be strange if I now began to think, but alas! it was 

but with very little solid reflection.  I had a most unbounded 

stock of vanity and pride, and but a very little stock of virtue.  

I did indeed case sometimes with myself what young master 

aimed at, but thought of nothing but the fine words and the 

gold; whether he intended to marry me, or not to marry me, 

seemed a matter of no great consequence to me; nor did my 

thoughts so much as suggest to me the necessity of making 

any capitulation for myself, till he came to make a kind of 

formal proposal to me, as you shall hear presently.



Thus I gave up myself to a readiness of being ruined without 

the least concern and am a fair memento to all young women 

whose vanity prevails over their virtue.  Nothing was ever so 

stupid on both sides.  Had I acted as became me, and resisted 

as virtue and honour require, this gentleman had either desisted 

his attacks, finding no room to expect the accomplishment of 

his design, or had made fair and honourable proposals of 

marriage; in which case, whoever had blamed him, nobody 

could have blamed me.  In short, if he had known me, and 

how easy the trifle he aimed at was to be had, he would have 

troubled his head no farther, but have given me four or five 

guineas, and have lain with me the next time he had come at me.  

And if I had known his thoughts, and how hard he thought I 

would be to be gained, I might have made my own terms with 

him; and if I had not capitulated for an immediate marriage, 

I might for a maintenance till marriage, and might have had 

what I would; for he was already rich to excess, besides what 

he had in expectation; but I seemed wholly to have abandoned 

all such thoughts as these, and was taken up only with the pride 

of my beauty, and of being beloved by such a gentleman.  As 

for the gold, I spent whole hours in looking upon it; I told the 

guineas over and over a thousand times a day.  Never poor 

vain creature was so wrapt up with every part of the story as 

I was, not considering what was before me, and how near my 

ruin was at the door; indeed, I think I rather wished for that 

ruin than studied to avoid it.



In the meantime, however, I was cunning enough not to give 

the least room to any in the family to suspect me, or to imagine 

that I had the least correspondence with this young gentleman.  

I scarce ever looked towards him in public, or answered if he 

spoke to me when anybody was near us; but for all that, we 

had every now and then a little encounter, where we had room 

for a word or two, an now and then a kiss, but no fair opportunity 

for the mischief intended; and especially considering that he 

made more circumlocution than, if he had known by thoughts, 

he had occasion for; and the work appearing difficult to him, 

he really made it so.



But as the devil is an unwearied tempter, so he never fails to 

find opportunity for that wickedness he invites to.  It was one

 evenine that I was in the garden, with his two younger sisters 

and himself, and all very innocently merry, when he found 

means to convey a note into my hand, by which he directed 

me to understand that he would to-morrow desire me publicly 

to go of an errand for him into the town, and that I should see 

him somewhere by the way.



Accordingly, after dinner, he very gravely says to me, his 

sisters being all by, 'Mrs. Betty, I must ask a favour of you.'  

'What's that?' says his second sister.  'Nay, sister,' says he 

very gravely, 'if you can't spare Mrs. Betty to-day, any other 

time will do.'  Yes, they said, they could spare her well enough, 

and the sister begged pardon for asking, which they did but of 

mere course, without any meaning.  'Well, but, brother,' says 

the eldest sister, 'you must tell Mrs. Betty what it is; if it be 

any private business that we must not hear, you may call her 

out.  There she is.'  'Why, sister,' says the gentleman very 

gravely, 'what do you mean?  I only desire her to do into the 

High Street' (and then he pulls out a turnover), 'to such a shop'; 

and then he tells them a long story of two fine neckcloths he 

had bid money for, and he wanted to have me go and make an 

errand to buy a neck to the turnover that he showed, to see if 

they would take my money for the neckcloths; to bid a shilling 

more, and haggle with them; and then he made more errands, 

and so continued to have such petty business to do, that I should 

be sure to stay a good while.



When he had given me my errands, he told them a long story 

of a visit he was going to make to a family they all knew, and 

where was to be such-and-such gentlemen, and how merry 

they were to be, and very formally asks his sisters to go with 

him, and they as formally excused themselves, because of 

company that they had notice was to come and visit them that 

afternoon; which, by the way, he had contrived on purpose.



He had scarce done speaking to them, and giving me my 

errand, but his man came up to tell him that Sir W---- H----'s 

coach stopped at the door; so he runs down, and comes up 

again immediately.  'Alas!' says he aloud, 'there's all my 

mirth spoiled at once; sir W---- has sent his coach for me, 

and desires to speak with me upon some earnest business.'  

It seems this Sir W--- was a gentleman who lived about three 

miles out of town, to whom he had spoken on purpose the day 

before, to lend him his chariot for a particular occasion, and 

had appointed it to call for him, as it did, about three o'clock.



Immediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and 

ordering his man to go to the other place to make his excuse--

that was to say, he made an excuse to send his man away--he 

prepares to go into the coach.  As he was going, he stopped a 

while, and speaks mighty earnestly to me about his business, 

and finds an opportunity to say very softly to me, 'Come away, 

my dear, as soon as ever you can.'  I said nothing, but made a 

curtsy, as if I had done so to what he said in public.  In about 

a quarter of an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than 

before, except that I had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of 

gloves in my pocket; so that there was not the least suspicion 

in the house.  He waited for me in the coach in a back-lane, 

which he knew I must pass by, and had directed the coachman 

whither to go, which was to a certain place, called Mile End, 

where lived a confidant of his, where we went in, and where 

was all the convenience in the world to be as wicked as we 

pleased.



When we were together he began to talk very gravely to me, 

and to tell me he did not bring me there to betray me; that his 

passion for me would not suffer him to abuse me; that he 

resolved to marry me as soon as he came to his estate; that in 

the meantime, if I would grant his request, he would maintain 

me very honourably; and made me a thousand protestations 

of his sincerity and of his affection to me; and that he would 

never abandon me, and as I may say, made a thousand more 

preambles than he need to have done.



However, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no 

reason to question the sincerity of his love to me after so many 

protestations, but--and there I stopped, as if I left him to 

guess the rest.  'But what, my dear?' says he.  'I guess what 

you mean:  what if you should be with child?  Is not that it?  

Why, then,' says he, 'I'll take care of you and provide for you, 

and the child too; and that you may see I am not in jest,' says 

he, 'here's an earnest for you,' and with that he pulls out a silk 

purse, with an hundred guineas in it, and gave it me.  'And I'll 

give you such another,' says he, 'every year till I marry you.'



My colour came and went, at the sight of the purse and with 

the fire of his proposal together, so that I could not say a word, 

and he easily perceived it; so putting the purse into my bosom,

I made no more resistance to him, but let him do just what he

pleased, and as often as he pleased; and thus I finished my 

own destruction at once, for from this day, being forsaken of 

my virtue and my modesty, I had nothing of value left to 

recommend me, either to God's blessing or man's assistance.



But things did not end here.  I went back to the town, did the 

business he publicly directed me to, and was at home before 

anybody thought me long.  As for my gentleman, he stayed 

out, as he told me he would, till late at night, and there was 

not the least suspicion in the family either on his account or 

on mine.



We had, after this, frequent opportunities to repeat our crime 

--chiefly by his contrivance--especially at home, when his 

mother and the young ladies went abroad a-visiting, which he 

watched so narrowly as never to miss; knowing always 

beforehand when they went out, and then failed not to catch 

me all alone, and securely enough; so that we took our fill of 

our wicked pleasure for near half a year; and yet, which was 

the most to my satisfaction, I was not with child.



But before this half-year was expired, his younger brother, of 

whom I have made some mention in the beginning of the story, 

falls to work with me; and he, finding me along in the garden 

one evening, begins a story of the same kind to me, made 

good honest professions of being in love with me, and in short, 

proposes fairly and honourably to marry me, and that before 

he made any other offer to me at all.



I was now confounded, and driven to such an extremity as 

the like was never known; at least not to me.  I resisted the 

proposal with obstinacy; and now I began to arm myself with 

arguments.  I laid before him the inequality of the match; the 

treatment I should meet with in the family; the ingratitude it 

would be to his good father and mother, who had taken me 

into their house upon such generous principles, and when I 

was in such a low condition; and, in short, I said everything 

to dissuade him from his design that I could imagine, except 

telling him the truth, which would indeed have put an end to 

It all, but that I durst not think of mentioning.



But here happened a circumstance that I did not expect 

indeed, which put me to my shifts; for this young gentleman, 

as he was plain and honest, so he pretended to nothing with 

me but what was so too; and, knowing his own innocence, he 

was not so careful to make his having a kindness for Mrs. Betty 

a secret I the house, as his brother was.  And though he did 

not let them know that he had talked to me about it, yet he 

said enough to let his sisters perceive he loved me, and his 

mother saw it too, which, though they took no notice of it to 

me, yet they did to him, an immediately I found their carriage 

to me altered, more than ever before.



I saw the cloud, though I did not foresee the storm.  It was 

easy, I say, to see that their carriage to me was altered, and 

that it grew worse and worse every day; till at last I got 

information among the servants that I should, in a very little 

while, be desired to remove.



I was not alarmed at the news, having a full satisfaction that 

I should be otherwise provided for; and especially considering 

that I had reason every day to expect I should be with child, 

and that then I should be obliged to remove without any 

pretences for it.



After some time the younger gentleman took an opportunity 

to tell me that the kindness he had for me had got vent in the 

family.  He did not charge me with it, he said, for he know 

well enough which way it came out.  He told me his plain way 

of  talking had been the occasion of it, for that he did not make 

his respect for me so much a secret as he might have done, 

and the reason was, that he was at a point, that if I would 

consent to have him, he would tell them all openly that he 

loved me, and that he intended to marry me; that it was true 

his father and mother might resent it, and be unkind, but that 

he was now in a way to live, being bred to the law, and he did 

not fear maintaining me agreeable to what I should expect; 

and that, in short, as he believed I would not be ashamed of 

him, so he was resolved not to be ashamed of me, and that he 

scorned to be afraid to own me now, whom he resolved to 

own after I was his wife, and therefore I had nothing to do but 

to give him my hand, and he would answer for all the rest.



I was now in a dreadful condition indeed, and now I repented 

heartily my easiness with the eldest brother; not from any 

reflection of conscience, but from a view of the happiness I 

might have enjoyed, and had now made impossible; for though 

I had no great scruples of conscience, as I have said, to struggle 

with, yet I could not think of being a whore to one brother and 

a wife to the other.  But then it came into my thoughts that the 

first brother had promised to made me his wife when he came 

to his estate; but I presently remembered what I had often 

thought of, that he had never spoken a word of having me for 

a wife after he had conquered me for a mistress; and indeed, 

till now, though I said I thought of it often, yet it gave me no 

disturbance at all, for as he did not seem in the least to lessen 

his affection to me, so neither did he lessen his bounty, though 

he had the discretion himself to desire me not to lay out a 

penny of what he gave me in clothes, or to make the least show 

extraordinary, because it would necessarily give jealousy in 

the family, since everybody know I could come at such things 

no manner of ordinary way, but by some private friendship, 

which they would presently have suspected.



But I was now in a great strait, and knew not what to 

do.  The main difficulty was this:  the younger brother not 

only laid close siege to me, but suffered it to be seen.  He 

would come into his sister's room, and his mother's room, 

and sit down, and talk a thousand kind things of me, and to 

me, even before their faces, and when they were all there.  

This grew so public that the whole house talked of it, and his 

mother reproved him for it, and their carriage to me appeared 

quite altered.  In short, his mother had let fall some speeches, 

as if she intended to put me out of the family; that is, in 

English, to turn me out of doors.  Now I was sure this could 

not be a secret to his brother, only that he might not think, as 

indeed nobody else yet did, that the youngest brother had made 

any proposal to me about it; but as I easily could see that it 

would go farther, so I saw likewise there was an absolute 

necessity to speak of it to him, or that he would speak of it to 

me, and which to do first I knew not; that is, whether I should 

break it to him or let it alone till he should break it to me.



Upon serious consideration, for indeed now I began to consider 

things very seriously, and never till now; I say, upon serious 

consideration, I resolved to tell him of it first; and it was not 

long before I had an opportunity, for the very next day his 

brother went to London upon some business, and the family 

being out a-visiting, just as it had happened before, and as 

indeed was often the case, he came according to his custom, 

to spend an hour or two with Mrs. Betty.



When he came had had sat down a while, he easily perceived 

there was an alteration in my countenance, that I was not so 

free and pleasant with him as I used to be, and particularly, 

that I had been a-crying; he was not long before he took notice 

of it, and asked me in very kind terms what was the matter, 

and if  anything troubled me.  I would have put it off if I could, 

but it was not to be concealed; so after suffering many 

importunities to draw that out of me which I longed as much 

as possible to disclose, I told him that it was true something 

did trouble me, and something of such a nature that I could 

not conceal from him, and yet that I could not tell how to tell 

him of it neither; that it was a thing that not only surprised me, 

but greatly perplexed me, and that I knew not what course to 

take, unless he would direct me.  He told me with great 

tenderness, that let it be what it would, I should not let it 

trouble me, for he would protect me from all the world.



I then began at a distance, and told him I was afraid the ladies 

had got some secret information of our correspondence; for 

that it was easy to see that their conduct was very much 

changed towards me for a great while, and that now it was 

come to that pass that they frequently found fault with me, 

and sometimes fell quite out with me, though I never gave 

them the least occasion; that whereas I used always to lie 

with the eldest sister, I was lately put to lie by myself, or with 

one of the maids; and that I had overheard them several times 

talking very unkindly about me; but that which confirmed it 

all was, that one of the servants had told me that she had heard 

I  was to be turned out, and that it was not safe for the family 

that I should be any longer in the house.



He smiled when he herd all this, and I asked him how he 

could make so light of it, when he must needs know that if 

there was any discovery I was undone for ever, and that even 

it would hurt him, though not ruin him as it would me.  I 

upbraided him, that he was like all the rest of the sex, that, 

when they had the character and honour of a woman at their 

mercy, oftentimes made it their jest, and at least looked upon 

it as a trifle, and counted the ruin of those they had had their 

will of as a thing of no value.



He saw me warm and serious, and he changed his style 

immediately; he told me he was sorry I should have such a 

thought of him; that he had never given me the least occasion 

for it, but had been as tender of my reputation as he could be 

of his own; that he was sure our correspondence had been 

managed with so much address, that not one creature in the 

family had so much as a suspicion of it; that if he smiled when 

I told him my thoughts, it was at the assurance he lately 

received, that our understanding one another was not so much 

as known or guessed at; and that when he had told me how 

much reason he had to be easy, I should smile as he did, for 

he was very certain it would give me a full satisfaction.



'This is a mystery I cannot understand,' says I, 'or how it 

should be to my satisfaction that I am to be turned out of 

doors; for if our correspondence is not discovered, I know 

not what else I have done to change the countenances of the 

whole family to me, or to have them treat me as they do now, 

who formerly used me with so much tenderness, as if I had 

been one of their own children.'



'Why, look you, child,' says he, 'that they are uneasy about 

you, that is true; but that they have the least suspicion of the 

case as it is, and as it respects you and I, is so far from being 

true, that they suspect my brother Robin; and, in short, they 

are fully persuaded he makes love to you; nay, the fool has 

put it into their heads too himself, for he is continually bantering 

them about it, and making a jest of himself.  I confess I think 

he is wrong to do so, because he cannot but see it vexes them, 

and makes them unkind to you; but 'tis a satisfaction to me, 

because of the assurance it gives me, that they do not suspect 

me in the least, and I hope this will be to your satisfaction too.' 



'So it is,' says I, 'one way; but this does not reach my case at 

all, nor is this the chief thing that troubles me, though I have 

been concerned about that too.'  'What is it, then?' says he.  

With which I fell to tears, and could say nothing to him at all.  

He strove to pacify me all he could, but began at last to be 

very pressing upon me to tell what it was.  At last I answered 

that I thought I ought to tell him too, and that he had some 

right to know it; besides, that I wanted his direction in the case, 

for I was in such perplexity that I knew not what course to take, 

and then I related the whole affair to him.  I told him how 

imprudently his brother had managed himself, in making 

himself so public; for that if he had kept it a secret, as such a 

thing out to have been, I could but have denied him positively, 

without giving any reason for it, and he would in time have 

ceased his solicitations; but that he had the vanity, first, to 

depend upon it that I would not deny him, and then had taken 

the freedom to tell his resolution of having me to the whole house.



I told him how far I had resisted him, and told him how sincere 

and honourable his offers were.  'But,' says I, 'my case will 

be doubly hard; for as they carry it ill to me now, because he 

desires to have me, they'll carry it worse when they shall find 

I have denied him; and they will presently say, there's something 

else in it, and then out it comes that I am married already to 

somebody else, or that I would never refuse a match so much 

above me as this was.'



This discourse surprised him indeed very much.  He told me 

that it was a critical point indeed for me to manage, and he 

did not see which way I should get out of it; but he would 

consider it, and let me know next time we met, what resolution 

he was come to about it; and in the meantime desired I would 

not give my consent to his brother, nor yet give him a flat 

denial, but that I would hold him in suspense a while.



I seemed to start at his saying I should not give him my 

consent.  I told him he knew very well I had no consent to 

give; that he had engaged himself to marry me, and that my 

consent was the same time engaged to him; that he had all 

along told me I was his wife, and I looked upon myself as 

effectually so as if the ceremony had passed; and that it was 

from his own mouth that I did so, he having all along persuaded 

me to call myself his wife.



'Well, my dear,' says he, 'don't be concerned at that now; 

if I am not your husband, I'll be as good as a husband to you; 

and do not let those things trouble you now, but let me look 

a little farther into this affair, and I shall be able to say more 

next time we meet.'



He pacified me as well as he could with this, but I found he 

was very thoughtful, and that though he was very kind to me 

and  kissed me a thousand times, and more I believe, and gave 

me money too, yet he offered no more all the while we were 

together, which was above two hours, and which I much 

wondered at indeed at that time, considering how it used to be, 

and what opportunity we had.



His brother did not come from London for five or six days, 

and it was two days more before he got an opportunity to talk 

with him; but then getting him by himself he began to talk 

very close to him about it, and the same evening got an 

opportunity (for we had a long conference together) to repeat 

all their discourse to me, which, as near as I can remember, 

was to the purpose following.  He told him he heard strange 

news of him since he went, viz. that he made love to Mrs. 

Betty.  'Well, says his brother a little angrily, 'and so I do.  

And what then?  What has anybody to do with that?'  'Nay,' 

says his brother, 'don't be angry, Robin; I don't pretend to 

have anything to do with it; nor do I pretend to be angry with 

you about it.  But I find they do concern themselves about it, 

and that they have used the poor girl ill about it, which I should 

take as done to myself.'  'Whom do you mean by THEY?' 

says Robin.  'I mean my mother and the girls,' says the elder 

brother.  'But hark ye,' says his brother, 'are you in earnest?  

Do you really love this girl?  You may be free with me, you 

know.'  'Why, then,' says Robin, 'I will be free with you; I do 

love her above all the women in the world, and I will have her, 

let them say and do what they will.  I believe the girl will not 

deny me.'



It struck me to the heart when he told me this, for though 

it was most rational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew 

in my own conscience I must deny him, and I saw my ruin in 

my being obliged to do so; but I knew it was my business to 

talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him in his story thus.



'Ay!,' said I, 'does he think I cannot deny him?  But he shall 

find I can deny him, for all that.'



'Well, my dear,' says he, 'but let me give you the whole story 

as it went on between us, and then say what you will.'



Then he went on and told me that he replied thus:  'But, 

brother, you know she has nothing, and you may have several 

ladies with good fortunes.' 



''Tis no matter for that,' said Robin; 'I love the girl, and I will 

never please my pocket in marrying, and not please my fancy.'  

'And so, my dear,' adds he, 'there is no opposing him.'



'Yes, yes,' says I, 'you shall see I can oppose him; I have 

learnt to say No, now though I had not learnt it before; if the 

best lord in the land offered me marriage now, I could very 

cheerfully say No to him.'



'Well, but, my dear,' says he, 'what can you say to him?  You 

know, as you said when we talked of it before, he well ask 

you many questions about it, and all the house will wonder 

what the meaning of it should be.'



'Why,' says I, smiling, 'I can stop all their mouths at one clap 

by telling him, and them too, that I am married already to his 

elder brother.'



He smiled a little too at the word, but I could see it startled 

him, and he could not hide the disorder it put him into.  

However, he returned, 'Why, though that may be true in some 

sense, yet I suppose you are but in jest when you talk of 

giving such an answer as that; it may not be convenient on 

many accounts.' 



'No, no,' says I pleasantly, 'I am not so fond of letting the 

secret come out without your consent.'



'But what, then, can you say to him, or to them,' says he, 

'when they find you positive against a match which would 

be apparently so much to your advantage?'

 

'Why,' says I, 'should I be at a loss?  First of all, I am not 

obliged to give me any reason at all; on the other hand, I may 

tell them I am married already, and stop there, and that will 

be a full stop too to him, for he can have no reason to ask one 

question after it.'



'Ay,' says he; 'but the whole house will tease you about that, 

even to father and mother, and if you deny them positively, 

they will be disobliged at you, and suspicious besides.'



'Why,' says I, 'what can I do?  What would have me do?  I 

was in straight enough before, and as I told you, I was in 

perplexity before, and acquainted you with the circumstances, 

that I might have your advice.'



'My dear,' says he, 'I have been considering very much upon 

it, you may be sure, and though it is a piece of advice that has 

a great many mortifications in it to me, and may at first seem 

strange to you, yet, all things considered, I see no better way 

for you than to let him go on; and if you find him hearty and 

in earnest, marry him.'



I gave him a look full of horror at those words, and, turning 

pale as death, was at the very point of sinking down out of the 

chair I sat in; when, giving a start, 'My dear,' says he aloud, 

'what's the matter with you?  Where are you a-going?' and a 

great many such things; and with jogging and called to me, 

fetched me a little to myself, though it was a good while before 

I fully recovered my senses, and was not able to speak for 

several minutes more.



When I was fully recovered he began again.  'My dear,' says 

he, 'what made you so surprised at what I said?  I would have 

you consider seriously of it?  You may see plainly how the 

family stand in this case, and they would be stark mad if it 

was my case, as it is my brother's; and for aught I see, it 

would be my ruin and yours too.'



'Ay!' says I, still speaking angrily; 'are all your protestations 

and vows to be shaken by the dislike of the family?  Did I not 

always object that to you, and you made light thing of it, as 

what you were above, and would value; and is it come to 

this now?' said I.  'Is this your faith and honour, your love, 

and the solidity of your promises?'



He continued perfectly calm, notwithstanding all my reproaches, 

and I was not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last, 

'My dear, I have not broken one promise with you yet; I did 

tell you I would marry you when I was come to my estate; but 

you see my father is a hale, healthy man, and may live these 

thirty years still, and not be older than several are round us in 

town; and you never proposed my marrying you sooner, 

because you knew it might be my ruin; and as to all the rest, I 

have not failed you in anything, you have wanted for nothing.'



I could not deny a word of this, and had nothing to say to it 

in general.  'But why, then,' says I, 'can you persuade me to 

such a horrid step as leaving you, since you have not left me?  

Will you allow no affection, no love on my side, where there 

has been so much on your side?  Have I made you no returns?  

Have I given no testimony of my sincerity and of my passion?  

Are the sacrifices I have made of honour and modesty to you 

no proof of my being tied to you in bonds too strong to be 

broken?'



'But here, my dear,' says he, 'you may come into a safe station, 

and appear with honour and with splendour at once, and the 

remembrance of what we have done may be wrapt up in an 

eternal silence, as if it had never happened; you shall always 

have my respect, and my sincere affection, only then it shall 

be honest, and perfectly just to my brother; you shall be my 

dear sister, asnow you are my dear----' and there he stopped.



'Your dear whore,' says I, 'you would have said if you had 

gone on, and you might as well have said it; but I understand 

you.  However, I desire you to remember the long discourses 

you have had with me, and the many hours' pains you have 

taken to persuade me to believe myself an honest woman; 

that I was your wife intentionally, though not in the eyes of 

the world, and that it was as effectual a marriage that had 

passed between us as is we had been publicly wedded by the 

parson of the parish.  You know and cannot but remember 

that these have been your own words to me.'



I found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up 

in what follows.  He stood stock-still for a while and said 

nothing, and I went on thus:  'You cannot,' says I, 'without 

the highest injustice, believe that I yielded upon all these 

persuasions without a love not to be questioned, not to be 

shaken again by anything that could happen afterward.  If you 

have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must ask you what 

foundation in any of my behaviour have I given for such a 

suggestion?



'If, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection, 

and if I have been persuaded to believe that I am really, and 

in the essence of the thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie 

to all those arguments and call myself your whore, or mistress, 

which is the same thing?  And will you transfer me to your 

brother?  Canyou transfer my affection?  Can you bid me 

cease loving you, and bid me love him?  It is in my power, 

think you, to make such a change at demand?  No, sir,' said I, 

'depend upon it 'tis impossible, and whatever the change of 

your side may be, I will ever be true; and I had much rather, 

since it is come that unhappy length, be your whore than your 

brother's wife.'



He appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this 

last discourse, and told me that he stood where he did before; 

that he had not been unfaithful to me in any one promise he 

had ever made yet, but that there were so many terrible things 

presented themselves to his view in the affair before me, and 

that on my account in particular, that he had thought of the 

other as a remedy so effectual as nothing could come up to it.  

That he thought this would not be entire parting us, but we 

might love as friends all our days, and perhaps with more 

satisfaction than we should in the station we were now in, 

as things might happen; that he durst say, I could not apprehend 

anything from him as to betraying a secret, which could not 

but be the destruction of us both, if it came out; that he had 

but one question to ask of me that could lie in the way of it, 

and if that question was answered in the negative, he could 

not but think still it was the only step I could take.



I guessed at his question presently, namely, whether I was 

sure I was not with child?  As to that, I told him he need not 

be concerned about it, for I was not with child.  'Why, then, 

my dear,' says he, 'we have no time to talk further now.  

Consider of it, and think closely about it; I cannot but be of 

the opinion still, that it will be the best course you can take.'  

And with this he took his leave, and the more hastily too, his 

mother and sisters ringing at the gate, just at the moment that 

he had risen up to go.



He left me in the utmost confusion of  thought; and he easily 

perceived it the next day, and all the rest of the week, for it 

was but Tuesday evening when we talked; but he had no 

opportunity to come at me all that week, till the Sunday after, 

when I, being indisposed, did not go to church, and he, making 

some excuse for the like, stayed at home.



And now he had me an hour and a half again by myself, and 

we fell into the same arguments all over again, or at least so 

near the same, as it would be to no purpose to repeat them.  

At last I asked him warmly, what opinion he must have of my 

modesty, that he could suppose I should so much as entertain 

a thought of lying with two brothers, and assured him it could 

never be.  I added, if he was to tell me that he would never 

see me more, than which nothing but death could be more 

terrible, yet I could never entertain a thought so dishonourable 

to myself, and so base to him; and therefore, I entreated him, 

if he had one grain of respect or affection left for me, that he 

would speak no more of it to me, or that he would pull his 

sword out and kill me.  He appeared surprised at my obstinacy, 

as he called it; told me I was unkind to myself, and unkind to 

him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for upon us both, and 

impossible for either of us to foresee, but that he did not see 

any other way to save us both from ruin, and therefore he 

thought it the more unkind; but that if he must say no more 

of it to me, he added with an unusual coldness, that he did 

not know anything else we had to talk of; and so he rose up to 

take his leave.  I rose up too, as if with the same indifference; 

but when he came to give me as it were a parting kiss, I burst 

out into such a passion of crying, that though I would have spoke, 

I could not, and only pressing his hand, seemed to give him the 

adieu, but cried vehemently.



He was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and 

said a great many kind things to me, to abate the excess of my 

passion, but still urged the necessity of what he had proposed;  

all the while insisting, that if I did refuse, he would notwith- 

standing provide for me; but letting me plainly see that he 

would decline me in the main point--nay, even as a mistress; 

making it a point of honour not to lie with the woman that, 

for aught he knew, might come to be his brother's wife.



The bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction 

as the loss of his person, whom indeed I loved to distraction; 

and the loss of all the expectations I had, and which I always 

had built my hopes upon, of having him one day for my 

husband.  These things oppressed my mind so much, that, in 

short, I fell very ill; the agonies of my mind, in a word, threw

 me into a high fever, and long it was, that none in the family 

expected my life.



I was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious and 

light-headed; but nothing lay so near me as the fear that, when 

I was light-headed, I should say something or other to his 

prejudice.  I was distressed in my mind also to see him, and 

so he was to see me, for he really loved me most passionately; 

but it could not be; there was not the least room to desire it 

on one side or other, or so much as to make it decent.



It was near five weeks that I kept my bed and though the 

violence of my fever abated in three weeks, yet it several 

times returned; and the physicians said two or three times, 

they could do no more for me, but that they must leave nature 

and the distemper to fight it out, only strengthening the first 

with cordials to maintain the struggle.  After the end of five 

weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, so melancholy, 

and recovered so slowly, that they physicians apprehended I 

should go into a consumption; and which vexed me most, 

they gave it as their opinion that my mind was oppressed, 

that something troubled me, and, in short, that I was in love.  

Upon this, the whole house was set upon me to examine me, 

and to press me to tell whether I was in love or not, and with 

whom; but as I well might, I denied my being in love at all.



They had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at  

table, that had like to have put the whole family in an uproar, 

and for some time did so.  They happened to be all at table but 

the father; as for me, I was ill, and in my chamber.  At the 

beginning of the talk, which was just as they had finished 

their dinner, the old gentlewoman, who had sent me somewhat 

to eat, called her maid to go up and ask me if I would have any 

more; but the maid brought down word I had not eaten half 

what she had sent me already.



'Alas, says the old lady, 'that poor girl!  I am afraid she will 

never be well.'



'Well!' says the elder brother, 'how should Mrs. Betty be well?  

They say she is in love.'



'I believe nothing of it,' says the old gentlewoman.



'I don't know,' says the eldest sister, 'what to say to it; 

they have made such a rout about her being so handsome, and 

so charming, and I know not what, and that in her hearing too, 

that has turned the creature's head, I believe, and who knows 

what possessions may follow such doings?  For my part, I 

don't know what to make of it.'



'Why, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome,' 

says the elder brother.'



'Ay, and a great deal handsomer than you, sister,' says Robin, 

'and that's your mortification.'



'Well, well, that is not the question,' says his sister; 'that girl 

is well enough, and she knows it well enough; she need not 

be told of it to make her vain.'



'We are not talking of her being vain,' says the elder brother, 

'but of her being in love; it may be she is in love with herself; 

it seems my sisters think so.'



'I would she was in love with me,' says Robin; 'I'd quickly 

put her out of her pain.'



'What d'ye mean by that, son,' says the old lady; 'how can 

you talk so?'



'Why, madam,' says Robin, again, very honestly, 'do you 

think I'd let the poor girl die for love, and of one that is near 

at hand to be had, too?'



'Fie, brother!', says the second sister, 'how can you talk so? 

Would you take a creature that has not a groat in the world?' 



'Prithee, child,' says Robin, 'beauty's a portion, and good-

humour with it is a double portion; I wish thou hadst half her 

stock of both for thy portion.'  So there was her mouth stopped.



'I find,' says the eldest sister, 'if Betty is not in love, my 

brother is.  I wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I 

warrant she won't say No.'



'They that yield when they're asked,' says Robin, 'are one 

step before them that were never asked to yield, sister, and 

two steps before them that yield before they are asked; and 

that's an answer to you, sister.'



This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, 

things were some to that pass that it was time the wench, 

meaning me, was out of the family; and but that she was not 

fit to be turned out, she hoped her father and mother would 

consider of it as soon as she could be removed.



Robin replied, that was business for the master and mistress 

of the family, who where not to be taught by one that had so 

little judgment as his eldest sister.



It ran up a great deal farther; the sister scolded, Robin rallied 

and bantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in 

the family.  I heard of it, and I cried heartily, and the old lady 

came up to me, somebody having told her that I was so much 

concerned about it.  I complained to her, that it was very hard 

the doctors should pass such a censure upon me, for which 

they had no ground; and that it was still harder, considering 

the circumstances I was under in the family; that I hoped I 

had done nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any 

occasion for the bickering between her sons and daughters, 

and I had more need to think of a coffin than of being in love, 

and begged she would not let me suffer in her opinion for 

anybody's mistakes but my own.



She was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me, 

since there had been such a clamour among them, and that her 

younger son talked after such a rattling way as he did, she 

desired I would be so faithful to her as to answer her but one 

question sincerely.  I told her I would, with all my heart, and 

with the utmost plainness and sincerity.  Why, then, the 

question was, whether there way anything between her son 

Robert and me.  I told her with all the protestations of sincerity 

that I was able to make, and as I might well, do, that there was 

not, nor every had been; I told her that Mr. Robert had rattled 

and jested, as she knew it was his way, and that I took it always, 

as I supposed he meant it, to be a wild airy way of discourse 

that had no signification in it; and again assured her, that there 

was not the least tittle of what she understood by it between 

us; and that those who had suggested it had done me a great 

deal of wrong, and Mr. Robert no service at all.



The old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke 

cheerfully to me, and bid me take care of my health and want 

for nothing, and so took her leave.  But when she came down 

she found the brother and all his sisters together by the ears; 

they were angry, even to passion, at his upbraiding them with 

their being homely, and having never had any sweethearts, 

never having been asked the question, and their being so 

forward as almost to ask first.  He rallied them upon the 

subject of Mrs. Betty; how pretty, how good-humoured, how 

she sung better then they did, and danced better, and how 

much handsomer she was; and in doing this he omitted no 

ill-natured thing that could vex them, and indeed, pushed too 

hard upon them.  The old lady came down in the height of it, 

and to put a stop it to, told them all the discourse she had had 

with me, and how I answered, that there was nothing between 

Mr. Robert and I.



'She's wrong there,' says Robin, 'for if there was not a great 

deal between us, we should be closer together than we are.  

I told her I lover her hugely,' says he, 'but I could never make 

the jade believe I was in earnest.'  'I do not know how you 

should,' says his mother; 'nobody in their senses could believe 

you were in earnest, to talk so to a poor girl, whose circumstances 

you know so well.



'But prithee, son,' adds she, 'since you tell me that you could 

not make her believe you were in earnest, what must we 

believe about it?  For you ramble so in your discourse, that 

nobody knows whether you are in earnest or in jest; but as I 

find the girl, by your own confession, has answered truly, I 

wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously, so that I may 

depend upon it.  Is there anything in it or no?  Are you in 

earnest or no?  Are you distracted, indeed, or are you not?  

'Tis a weighty question, and I wish you would make us easy 

about it.'



'By my faith, madam,' says Robin, ''tis in vain to mince the 

matter or tell any more lies about it; I am in earnest, as much 

as a man is that's going to be hanged.  If Mrs. Betty would 

say she loved me, and that she would marry me, I'd have her 

tomorrow morning fasting, and say, 'To have and to hold,' 

instead of eating my breakfast.'



'Well,' says the mother, 'then there's one son lost'; and she 

said it in a very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it.



'I hope not, madam,' says Robin; 'no man is lost when a good 

wife has found him.'



'Why, but, child,' says the old lady, 'she is a beggar.'



'Why, then, madam, she has the more need of charity,' says 

Robin; 'I'll take her off the hands of the parish, and she and 

I'll beg together.'



'It's bad jesting with such things,' says the mother.



'I don't jest, madam,' says Robin.  'We'll come and beg your 

pardon, madam; and your blessing, madam, and my father's.'



'This is all out of the way, son,' says the mother.  'If you are 

in earnest you are undone.'



'I am afraid not,' says he, 'for I am really afraid she won't 

have me; after all my sister's huffing and blustering, I believe 

I shall never be able to persuade her to it.'



'That's a fine tale, indeed; she is not so far out of her senses 

neither.  Mrs. Betty is no fool,' says the younger sister.  'Do 

you think she has learnt to say No, any more than other people?'



'No, Mrs. Mirth-wit,' says Robin, 'Mrs. Betty's no fool; but 

Mrs. Betty may be engaged some other way, and what then?'



'Nay,' says the eldest sister, 'we can say nothing to that.  Who 

must it be to, then?  She is never out of the doors; it must be 

between you.'



'I have nothing to say to that,' says Robin.  'I have been 

examined enough; there's my brother.  If it must be between 

us, go to work with him.'



This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded

that Robin had discovered something.  However, he kept 

himself from appearing disturbed.  'Prithee,' says he, 'don't 

go to shame your stories off upon me; I tell you, I deal in no 

such ware; I have nothing to say to Mrs. Betty, nor to any of 

the Mrs. Bettys in the parish'; and with that he rose up and 

brushed off.



'No,' says the eldest sister, 'I dare answer for my brother; he 

knows the world better.'



Thus the discourse ended, but it left the elder brother quite 

confounded.  He concluded his brother had made a full 

discovery, and he began to doubt whether I had been concerned 

in it or not; but with all his management he could not bring 

it about to get at me.  At last he was so perplexed that he was 

quite desperate, and resolved he would come into my chamber 

and see me, whatever came of it.  In order to do this, he 

contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest 

sister till he could see her go upstairs, he runs after her.  'Hark 

ye, sister,' says he, 'where is this sick woman?  May not a 

body see her?'  'Yes,' says the sister, 'I believe you may; but 

let me go first a little, and I'll tell you.'  So she ran up to the 

door and gave me notice, and presently called to him again.  

'Brother,' says she, 'you may come if you please.'  So in he 

came, just in the same kind of rant.  'Well,' says he at the door 

as he came in, 'where is this sick body that's in love?  How 

do ye do, Mrs. Betty?'  I would have got up out of my chair, 

but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he saw it, 

and his sister to, and she said, 'Come, do not strive to stand 

up; my brother desires no ceremony, especially now you are 

so weak.'  'No, no, Mrs. Betty, pray sit still,' says he, and so 

sits himself down in a chair over against me, and appeared as 

if he was mighty merry.



He talked a lot of rambling stuff to his sister and to me, 

sometimes of one thing, sometimes of another, on purpose 

to amuse his sister, and every now and then would turn it 

upon the old story, directing it to me.  'Poor Mrs. Betty,' says 

he, 'it is a sad thing to be in love; why, it has reduced you 

sadly.'  At last I spoke a little.  'I am glad to see you so merry, 

sir,' says I; 'but I think the doctor might have found something 

better to do than to make his game at his patients.  If I had 

been ill of no other distemper, I know the proverb too well to 

have let him come to me.'  'What proverb?' says he, 'Oh!  I 

remember it now.  What--

     "Where love is the case,

     The doctor's an ass."



Is not that it, Mrs. Betty?'  I smiled and said nothing.  'Nay,' 

says he, 'I think the effect has proved it to be love, for it 

seems the doctor has been able to do you but little service; 

you mend very slowly, they say.  I doubt there's somewhat in 

it, Mrs. Betty; I doubt you are sick of the incurables, and that 

is love.'  I smiled and said, 'No, indeed, sir, that's none of my 

distemper.'



We had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that 

signified as little.  By and by he asked me to sing them a song, 

at which I smiled, and said my singing days were over.  At last 

he asked me if he should play upon his flute to me; his sister 

said she believe it would hurt me, and that my head could 

not bear it.  I bowed, and said, No, it would not hurt me.  

'And, pray, madam.' said I, 'do not hinder it; I love the music 

of the flute very much.'  Then his sister said, 'Well, do, then, 

brother.'  With that he pulled out the key of his closet.  'Dear 

sister,' says he, 'I am very lazy; do step to my closet and fetch 

my flute; it lies in such a drawer,' naming a place where he 

was sure it was not, that she might be a little while a-looking 

for it.



As soon as she was gone, he related the whole story to me 

of the discourse his brother had about me, and of his pushing 

it at him, and his concern about it, which was the reason of 

his contriving this visit to me.  I assured him I had never 

opened my mouth either to his brother or to anybody else.  

I told him the dreadful exigence I was in; that my love to him, 

and his offering to have me forget that affection and remove 

it to another, had thrown me down; and that I had a thousand 

times wished I might die rather than recover, and to have the 

same circumstances to struggle with as I had before, and that 

his backwardness to life had been the great reason of the 

slowness of my recovering.  I added that I foresaw that as soon 

as I was well, I must quit the family, and that as for marrying 

his brother, I abhorred the thoughts of it after what had been 

my case with him, and that he might depend upon it I would 

never see his brother again upon that subject; that if he would 

break all his vows and oaths and engagements with me, be 

that between his conscience and his honour and himself; but 

he should never be able to say that I, whom he had persuaded 

to call myself his wife, and who had given him the liberty to 

use me as a wife, was not as faithful to him as a wife ought to 

be, whatever he might be to me.



He was going to reply, and had said that he was sorry I could 

not be persuaded, and was a-going to say more, but he heard 

his sister a-coming, and so did I; and yet I forced out these 

few words as a reply, that I could never be persuaded to love 

one brother and marry another.  He shook his head and said, 

'Then I am ruined,' meaning himself; and that moment his 

sister entered the room and told him she could not find the 

flute. 'Well,' says he merrily, 'this laziness won't do'; so he 

gets up and goes himself to go to look for it, but comes back 

without it too; not but that he could have found it, but because 

his mind was a little disturbed, and he had no mind to play; 

and, besides, the errand he sent his sister on was answered 

another way; for he only wanted an opportunity to speak to 

me, which he gained, though not much to his satisfaction.



I had, however, a great deal of satisfaction in having spoken 

my mind to him with freedom, and with such an honest 

plainness, as I have related; and though it did not at all work 

the way I desired, that is to say, to oblige the person to me 

the more, yet it took from him all possibility of quitting me 

but by a downright breach of honour, and giving up all the 

faith of a gentleman to me, which he had so often engaged by, 

never to abandon me, but to make me his wife as soon as he 

came to his estate.



It was not many weeks after this before I was about the house 

again, and began to grow well; but I continued melancholy, 

silent, dull, and retired, which amazed the whole family, except 

he that knew the reason of it; yet it was a great while before 

he took any notice of it, and I, as backward to speak as he, 

carried respectfully to him, but never offered to speak a word 

to him that was particular of any kind whatsoever; and this 

continued for sixteen or seventeen weeks; so that, as I expected 

every day to be dismissed the family, on account of what 

distaste they had taken another way, in which I had no guilt, 

so I expected to hear no more of this gentleman, after all his 

solemn vows and protestations, but to be ruined and abandoned.



At last I broke the way myself in the family for my removing; 

for being talking seriously with the old lady one day, about 

my own circumstances in the world, and how my distemper 

had left a heaviness upon my spirits, that I was not the same 

thing I was before, the old lady said, 'I am afraid, Betty, what 

I have said to you about my son has had some influence upon 

you, and that you are melancholy on his account; pray, will 

you let me know how the matter stands with you both, if it 

may not be improper?  For, as for Robin, he does nothing but 

rally and banter when I speak of it to him.'  'Why, truly, 

madam,' said I 'that matter stands as I wish it did not, and I 

shall be very sincere with you in it, whatever befalls me for it.  

Mr. Robert has several times proposed marriage to me, which 

is what I had no reason to expect, my poor circumstances 

considered; but I have always resisted him, and that perhaps 

in terms more positive than became me, considering the regard 

that I ought to have for every branch of your family; but,' said 

I, 'madam, I could never so far forget my obligation to you 

and all your house, to offer to consent to a thing which I know 

must needs be disobliging to you, and this I have made my 

argument to him, and have positively told him that I would 

never entertain a though of that kind unless I had your consent, 

and his father's also, to whom I was bound by so many 

invincible obligations.'



'And is this possible, Mrs. Betty?' says the old lady.  'Then 

you have been much juster to us than we have been to you; 

for we have all looked upon you as a kind of snare to my son, 

and I had a proposal to make to you for your removing, for 

fear of it; but I had not yet mentioned it to you, because I 

thought you were not thorough well, and I was afraid of 

grieving you too much, lest it should throw you down again; 

for we have all a respect for you still, though not so much as 

to have it be the ruin of my son; but if it be as you say, we have 

all wronged you very much.'



'As to the truth of what I say, madam,' said I, 'refer you to 

your son himself; if he will do me any justice, he must tell you 

the story just as I have told it.'



Away goes the old lady to her daughters and tells them the 

whole story, just as I had told it her; and they were surprised 

at it, you may be sure, as I believed they would be.  One said 

she could never have thought it; another said Robin was a fool; 

a third said she would not believe a word of it, and she would 

warrant that Robin would tell the story another way.  But the 

old gentlewoman, who was resolved to go to the bottom of it 

before I could have the least opportunity of acquainting her 

son with what had passed, resolved too that she would talk 

with her son immediately, and to that purpose sent for him, 

for he was gone but to a lawyer's house in the town, upon 

some petty business of his own, and upon her sending he 

returned immediately.



Upon his coming up to them, for they were all still together, 

'Sit down, Robin,' says the old lady, 'I must have some talk 

with you.'  'With all my heart, madam,' says Robin, looking 

very merry.  'I hope it is about a good wife, for I am at a great 

loss in that affair.'  'How can that be?' says his mother; 'did 

not you say you resolved to have Mrs. Betty?'  'Ay, madam,' 

says Robin, 'but there is one has forbid the banns.'  'Forbid, 

the banns!' says his mother; 'who can that be?'  'Even Mrs. 

Betty herself,' says Robin.  'How so?' says his mother.  'Have 

you asked her the question, then?'  'Yes, indeed, madam,' says 

Robin.  'I have attacked her in form five times since she was sick, 

and am beaten off; the jade is so stout she won't capitulate nor 

yield upon any terms, except such as I cannot effectually grant.'  

'Explain yourself,' says the mother, 'for I am surprised; I do 

not understand you.  I hope you are not in earnest.'



'Why, madam,' says he, 'the case is plain enough upon me, 

it explains itself; she won't have me, she says; is not that plain 

enough?  I think 'tis plain, and pretty rough too.'  'Well, but,' 

says the mother, 'you talk of conditions that you cannot grant; 

what does she want--a settlement?  Her jointure ought to be 

according to her portion; but what fortune does she bring you?'  

'Nay, as to fortune,' says Robin, 'she is rich enough; I am 

satisfied in that point; but 'tis I that am not able to come up 

to her terms, and she is positive she will not have me without.'



Here the sisters put in.  'Madam,' says the second sister, ''tis 

impossible to be serious with him; he will never give a direct 

answer to anything; you had better let him alone, and talk no 

more of it to him; you know how to dispose of her out of his 

way if you thought there was anything in it.'  Robin was a little 

warmed with his sister's rudeness, but he was even with her, 

and yet with good manners too.  'There are two sorts of people, 

madam,' says he, turning to his mother, 'that there is no 

contending with; that is, a wise body and a fool; 'tis a little 

hard I should engage with both of them together.'



The younger sister then put in.  'We must be fools indeed,' 

says she, 'in my brother's opinion, that he should think we can 

believe he has seriously asked Mrs. Betty to marry him, and 

that she has refused him.'



'Answer, and answer not, say Solomon,' replied her brother.  

'When your brother had said to your mother that he had asked 

her no less than five times, and that it was so, that she positively 

denied him, methinks a younger sister need not question the 

truth of it when her mother did not.'  'My mother, you see, 

did not understand it,' says the second sister.  'There's some 

difference,' says Robin, 'between desiring me to explain it, 

and telling me she did not believe it.'



'Well, but, son,' says the old lady, 'if you are disposed to let 

us into the mystery of it, what were these hard conditions?'  

'Yes, madam,' says Robin, 'I had done it before now, if the 

teasers here had not worried my by way of interruption.  The 

conditions are, that I bring my father and you to consent to it, 

and without that she protests she will never see me more upon 

that head; and to these conditions, as I said, I suppose I shall 

never be able to grant.  I hope my warm sisters will be 

answered now, and blush a little; if not, I have no more to say 

till I hear further.'



This answer was surprising to them all, though less to the 

mother, because of what I had said to her.  As to the daughters, 

they stood mute a great while; but the mother said with some 

passion, 'Well, I had heard this before, but I could not believe 

it; but if it is so, they we have all done Betty wrong, and she 

has behaved better than I ever expected.'  'Nay,' says the eldest 

sister, 'if it be so, she has acted handsomely indeed.'  'I confess,' 

saysthe mother, 'it was none of her fault, if he was fool enough 

totake a fancy to her; but to give such an answer to him, shows

more respect to your father and me than I can tell how to 

express; I shall value the girl the better for it as long as I know 

her.'  'But I shall not,' says Robin, 'unless you will give your 

consent.' 'I'll consider of that a while,' says the mother; 'I 

assure you, if there were not some other objections in the way, 

this conduct of hers would go a great way to bring me to 

consent.'  'I wish it would go quite through it,' says Robin; 

'if you had a much thought about making me easy as you have 

about making me rich, you would soon consent to it.'



'Why, Robin,' says the mother again, 'are you really in earnest?  

Would you so fain have her as you pretend?'  "Really, madam,' 

says Robin, 'I think 'tis hard you should question me upon 

that head after all I have said.  I won't say that I will have her; 

how can I resolve that point, when you see I cannot have her 

without your consent?  Besides, I am not bound to marry at 

all.  But this I will say, I am in earnest in, that I will never have 

anybody else if I can help it; so you may determine for me.  

Betty or nobody is the word, and the question which of the 

two shall be in your breast to decide, madam, provided only, 

that my good-humoured sisters here may have no vote in it.' 



All this was dreadful to me, for the mother began to yield, 

and Robin pressed her home on it.  On the other hand, she 

advised with the eldest son, and he used all the arguments in 

the world to persuade her to consent; alleging his brother's 

passionate love for me, and my generous regard to the family, 

in refusing my own advantages upon such a nice point of 

honour, and a thousand such things.  And as to the father, he 

was a man in a hurry of public affairs and getting money, 

seldom at home, thoughtful of the main chance, but left all 

those things to his wife.



You may easily believe, that when the plot was thus, as they 

thought, broke out, and that every one thought they knew how 

things were carried, it was not so difficult or so dangerous for 

the elder brother, whom nobody suspected of anything, to have 

a freer access to me than before; nay, the mother, which was 

just as he wished, proposed it to him to talk with Mrs. Betty.  

'For it may be, son,' said she, 'you may see farther into the 

thing than I, and see if you think she has been so positive as 

Robin says she has been, or no.'  This was as well as he could 

wish, and he, as it were, yielding to talk with me at his mother's 

request, she brought me to him into her own chamber, told me 

her son had some business with me at her request, and desired 

me to be very sincere with him, and then she left us together, 

and he went and shut the door after her.



He came back to me and took me in his arms, and kissed me 

very tenderly; but told me he had a long discourse to hold 

with me, and it was not come to that crisis, that I should make 

myself happy or miserable as long as I lived; that the thing 

was now gone so far, that if I could not comply with his desire, 

we would both be ruined.  Then he told the whole story 

between Robin, as he called him, and his mother and sisters 

and himself, as it is above.  'And now, dear child,' says he, 

'consider what it will be to marry a gentleman of a good family, 

in good circumstances, and with the consent of the whole house, 

and to enjoy all that he world can give you; and what, on the 

other hand, to be sunk into the dark circumstances of a woman 

that has lost her reputation; and that though I shall be a private 

friend to you while I live, yet as I shall be suspected always, 

so you will be afraid to see me, and I shall be afraid to own you.'



He gave me no time to reply, but went on with me thus:  'What 

has happened between us, child, so long as we both agree to do 

so, may be buried and forgotten.  I shall always be your sincere 

friend, without any inclination to nearer intimacy, when you 

become my sister; and we shall have all the honest part of  

conversation without any reproaches between us of having  

done amiss.  I beg of you to consider it, and to not stand in the 

way of your own safety and prosperity; and to satisfy you that 

I am sincere,' added he, 'I here offer you #500 in money, to 

make you some amends for the freedoms I havetaken with  

you, which we shall look upon as some of the folliesof our 

lives,  which 'tis hoped we may repent of.'



He spoke this in so much more moving terms than it is possible 

for me to express, and with so much greater force of argument 

than I can repeat, that I only recommend it to those who read 

the story, to suppose, that as he held me above an hour and a 

half in that discourse, so he answered all my objections, and 

fortified his discourse with all the arguments that human wit 

and art could devise.



I cannot say, however, that anything he said made impression 

enough upon me so as to give me any thought of the matter, 

till he told me at last very plainly, that if I refused, he was 

sorry to add that he could never go on with me in that station 

as we stood before; that though he loved me as well as ever, 

and that I was as agreeable to him as ever, yet sense of virtue 

had not so far forsaken him as to suffer him to lie with a 

woman that his brother courted to make his wife; and if he 

took his leave of me, with a denial in this affair, whatever he 

might do for me in the point of support, grounded on his first 

engagement of maintaining me, yet he would not have me be 

surprised that he was obliged to tell me he could not allow 

himself to see me any more; and that, indeed, I could not 

expect it of him.



I received this last part with some token of surprise and 

disorder, and had much ado to avoid sinking down, for indeed 

I loved him to an extravagance not easy to imagine; but he 

perceived my disorder.  He entreated me to consider seriously 

of it; assured me that it was the only way to preserve our 

mutual affection; that in this station we might love as friends, 

with the utmost passion, and with a love of relation untainted, 

free from our just reproaches, and free from other people's 

suspicions; that he should ever acknowledge his happiness 

owing to me; that he would be debtor to me as long as he 

lived, and would be paying that debt as long as he had breath.  

Thus he wrought me up, in short, to a kind of hesitation in the 

matter; having the dangers on one side represented in lively 

figures, and indeed, heightened by my imagination of being 

turned out to the wide world a mere cast-off whore, for it was 

no less, and perhaps exposed as such, with little to provide for

 myself, with no friend, no acquaintance in the whole world, 

out of that town, and there I could not pretend to stay.  All 

this terrified me to the last degree, and he took care upon all 

occasions to lay it home to me in the worst colours that it could 

be possible to be drawn in.  On the other hand, he failed not to 

set forth the easy, prosperous life which I was going to live.

 

He answered all that I could object from affection, and from 

former engagements, with telling me the necessity that was 

before us of taking other measures now; and as to his promises 

of marriage, the nature of things, he said, had put an end to 

that, by the probability of my being his brother's wife, before 

the time to which his promises all referred.



Thus, in a word, I may say, he reasoned me out of my reason; 

he conquered all my arguments, and I began to see a danger 

that I was in, which I had not considered of before, and that 

was, of being dropped by both of them and left alone in the 

world to shift for myself.



This, and his persuasion, at length prevailed with me to 

consent, though with so much reluctance, that it was easy to 

see I should go to church like a bear to the stake.  I had some 

little apprehensions about me, too, lest my new spouse, who, 

by the way, I had not the least affection for, should be skillful 

enough to challenge me on another account, upon our first 

coming to bed together.  But whether he did it with design or 

not, I know not, but his elder brother took care to make him 

very much fuddled before he went to bed, so that I had the 

satisfaction of a drunken bedfellow the first night.  How he 

did it I know not, but I concluded that he certainly contrived 

it, that his brother might be able to make no judgment of the 

difference between a maid and a married woman; nor did he 

ever entertain any notions of it, or disturb his thoughts about it.



I should go back a little here to where I left off.  The elder 

brother having thus managed me, his next business was to 

manage his mother, and he never left till he had brought her 

to acquiesce and be passive in the thing, even without 

acquainting the father, other than by post letters; so that she 

consented to our marrying privately, and leaving her to mange 

the father afterwards.



Then he cajoled with his brother, and persuaded him what 

service he had done him, and how he had brought his mother 

to consent, which, though true, was not indeed done to serve 

him, but to serve himself; but thus diligently did he cheat him, 

and had the thanks of a faithful friend for shifting off his whore 

into his brother's arms for a wife.  So certainly does interest 

banish all manner of affection, and so naturally do men give 

up honour and justice, humanity, and even Christianity, to 

secure themselves.



I must now come back to brother Robin, as we always called 

him, who having got his mother's consent, as above, came 

big with the news to me, and told me the whole story of it, 

with a sincerity so visible, that I must confess it grieved me 

that I must be the instrument to abuse so honest a gentleman.  

But there was no remedy; he would have me, and I was not 

obliged to tell him that I was his brother's whore, though I had 

no other way to put him off; so I came gradually into it, to his 

satisfaction, and behold we were married.



Modesty forbids me to reveal the secrets of the marriage-bed, 

but nothing could have happened more suitable to my 

circumstances than that, as above, my husband was so fuddled 

when he came to bed, that he could not remember in the 

morning whether he had had any conversation with me or no, 

and I was obliged to tell him he had, though in reality he had 

not, that I might be sure he could make to inquiry about 

anything else.



It concerns the story in hand very little to enter into the further 

particulars of the family, or of myself, for the five years that I 

lived with this husband, only to observe that I had two children 

by him, and that at the end of five years he died.  He had been 

really a very good husband to me, and we lived very agreeably 

together; but as he had not received much from them, and had 

in the little time he lived acquired no great matters, so my 

circumstances were not great, nor was I much mended by the 

match.  Indeed, I had preserved the elder brother's bonds to 

me,to pay #500, which he offered me for my consentto marry 

his brother; and this, with what I had saved of the moneyhe 

formerly gave me, about as much more by my husband, left me 

a widow with about #1200 in my pocket.



My two children were, indeed, taken happily off my hands by

my husband's father and mother, and that, by the way, was all

they got by Mrs. Betty.



I confess I was not suitably affected with the loss of my husband, 

nor indeed can I say that I ever loved him as I ought to have 

done, or as was proportionable to the good usage I had from 

him, for he was a tender, kind, good-humoured man as any 

woman could desire; but his brother being so always in my 

sight, at least while we were in the country, was a continual 

snare to me, and I never was in bed with my husband but I 

wished myself in the arms of his brother; and though his brother 

never offered me the least kindness that way after our marriage, 

but carried it just as a brother out to do, yet it was impossible 

for me to do so to him; in short, I committed adultery and incest 

with him every day in my desires, which, without doubt, was as 

effectually criminal in the nature of the guilt as if I had actually 

done it.



Before my husband died his elder brother was married, and 

we, being then removed to London, were written to by the old 

lady to come and be at the wedding.  My husband went, but I 

pretended indisposition, and that I could not possibly travel, 

so I stayed behind; for, in short, I could not bear the sight of 

his being given to another woman, though I knew I was never 

to have him myself.



I was now, as above, left loose to the world, and being still 

young and handsome, as everybody said of me, and I assure 

you I thought myself so, and with a tolerable fortune in my 

pocket, I put no small value upon myself.  I was courted by 

several very considerable tradesmen, and particularly very 

warmly by one, a linen-draper, at whose house, after my 

husband's death, I took a lodging, his sister being my acquaintance.  

Here I had all the liberty and all the opportunity to be gay and 

appear in company that I could desire, my landlord's sister 

being one of the maddest, gayest things alive, and not so much 

mistress of her virtue as I thought as first she had been.  She 

brought me into a world of  wild company, and even brought 

home several persons, such as she liked well enough to gratify, 

to see her pretty widow, so she was pleased to call me, and 

that name I got in a little time in public.  Now, as fame and 

fools make an assembly, I was here wonderfully caressed, had 

abundance of admirers, and such as called themselves lovers; 

but I found not one fair proposal among them all.  As for their 

common design, that I understood too well to be drawn into 

any more snares of that kind.  The case was altered with me:  

I had money in my pocket, and had nothing to say to them.  I 

had been tricked once by that cheat called love, but the game 

was over;  I was resolved now to be married or nothing, and 

to be well married or not at all.



I loved the company, indeed, of men of mirth and wit, men of 

gallantry and figure, and was often entertained with such, as 

I was also with others; but I found by just observation, that the 

brightest men came upon the dullest errand--that is to say, the 

dullest as to what I aimed at.  On the other hand, those who 

came with the best proposals were the dullest and most  

disagreeable part of the world.  I was not averse to a tradesman, 

but then I would have a tradesman, forsooth, that was 

something of a gentleman too; that when my husband had a 

mind to carry me to the court, or to the play, he might become 

a sword, and look as like a gentleman as another man; and not 

be one that had the mark of his apron-strings upon his coat, 

or the mark of his hat upon his periwig; that should look as if 

he was set on to his sword, when his sword was put on to him, 

and that carried his trade in his countenance.



Well, at last I found this amphibious creature, this land-water 

thing called a gentleman-tradesman; and as a just plague upon 

my folly, I was catched in the very snare which, as I might say, 

I laid for myself.  I said for myself, for I was not trepanned, 

I confess, but I betrayed myself.



This was a draper, too, for though my comrade would have 

brought me to a bargain with her brother, yet when it came to 

the point, it was, it seems, for a mistress, not a wife; and I kept 

true to this notion, that a woman should never be kept for a 

mistress that had money to keep herself.



Thus my pride, not my principle, my money, not my virtue, 

kept me honest; though, as it proved, I found I had much better 

have been sold by my she-comrade to her brother, than have 

sold myself as I did to a tradesman that was rake, gentleman, 

shopkeeper, and beggar, all together.



But I was hurried on (by my fancy to a gentleman) to ruin 

myself in the grossest manner that every woman did; for my 

new husband coming to a lump of money at once, fell into 

such a profusion of expense, that all I had, and all he had 

before, if he had anything worth mentioning, would not have 

held it out above one year.



He was very fond of me for about a quarter of a year, and 

what  I got by that was, that I had the pleasure of seeing a great 

deal of my money spent upon myself, and, as I may say, had 

some of the spending it too.  'Come, my dear,' says he to me 

one day, 'shall we go and take a turn into the country for about 

a week?' 'Ay, my dear,' says I, 'whither would you go?'  'I 

care not whither,' says he, 'but I have a mind to look like 

quality for a week.  We'll go to Oxford,' says he.  'How,' says 

I, 'shall we go? I am no horsewoman, and 'tis too far for a coach.'

  'Too far!' says he; 'no place is too far for a coach-and-six.  If 

I carry you out, you shall travel like a duchess.'  'Hum,' says 

I, 'my dear, 'tis a frolic; but if you have a mind to it, I don't 

care.'  Well, the time was appointed, we had a rich coach, very 

good horses, a coachman, postillion, and two footmen in very 

good liveries; a gentleman on horseback, and a page with a 

feather in his hat upon another horse.  The servants all called 

him my lord, and the inn-keepers, you may be sure, did the like, 

and I was her honour the Countess, and thus we traveled to 

Oxford, and a very pleasant journey we had; for, give him his 

due, not a beggar alive knew better how to be a lord than my 

husband.  We saw all the rarities at Oxford, talked with two or 

three Fellows of colleges about putting out a young nephew, 

that was left to his lordship's care, to the University, and of 

their being his tutors.  We diverted ourselves with bantering 

several other poor scholars, with hopes of being at least his 

lordship's chaplains and putting on a scarf; and thus having 

lived like quality indeed, as to expense, we went away for 

Northampton, and, in a word, in about twelve days' ramble 

came home again, to the tune of about #93 expense.



Vanity is the perfection of a fop.  My husband had this 

excellence, that he valued nothing of expense; and as his 

history, you may be sure, has very little weight in it, 'tis 

enough to tell you that in about two years and a quarter he 

broke, and was not so happy to get over into the Mint, but got 

into a sponging-house, being arrested in an action too heavy 

from him to give bail to, so he sent for me to come to him.



It was no surprise to me, for I had foreseen some time that 

all was going to wreck, and had been taking care to reserve 

something if I could, though it was not much, for myself.  But 

when he sent for me, he behaved much better than I expected, 

and told me plainly he had played the fool, and suffered 

himself to be surprised, which he might have prevented; that 

now he foresaw he could not stand it, and therefore he would 

have me go home, and in the night take away everything I had 

in the house of any value, and secure it; and after that, he told 

me that if I could get away one hundred or two hundred pounds 

in goods out of the shop, I should do it; 'only,' sayshe, 'let me 

know nothing of it, neither what you take norwhither you 

carry it; for as for me,' says he, 'I am resolved toget out of 

this house and be gone; and if you never hear of memore, my 

dear,' says he, 'I wish you well; I am only sorry forthe injury 

I have done you.'  He said some very handsomethings to me 

indeed at parting; for I told you he was a gentleman, and that 

was all the benefit  I had of his being so; that he used me very 

handsomely and with good mannersupon all occasions, even 

to the last, only spent all I had, andleft me to rob the creditors 

for something to subsist on.



However, I did as he bade me, that you may be sure; and 

having thus taken my leave of him, I never saw him more, for 

he found means to break out of the bailiff's house that night 

or the next, and go over into France, and for the rest of the 

creditors scrambled for it as well as they could.  How, I knew 

not, for I could come at no knowledge of anything, more than 

this, that he came home about three o'clock in the morning, 

caused the rest of his goods to be removed into the Mint, and 

the shop to be shut up; and having raised what money he could 

get together, he got over, as I said, to France, from whence I 

had one or two letters from him, and no more.  I did not see him 

when he came home, for he having given me such instructions 

as above, and I having made the best of my time, I had no more 

business back again at the house, not knowing but I might have 

been stopped there by the creditors; for a commission of  

bankrupt being soon after issued, they might have stopped me 

by orders from the commissioners.  But my husband, having 

so dexterously got out of the bailiff's house by letting himself 

down in a most desperate manner from almost the top of the 

house to the top of another building, and leaping from thence, 

which was almost two storeys, and which was enough indeed 

to have broken his neck, he came home and got away his goods 

before the creditors could come to seize; that is to say, before 

they could get out the commission, and be ready to send their 

officers to take possession.



My husband was so civil to me, for still I say he was much 

of a gentleman, that in the first letter he wrote me from France, 

he let me know where he had pawned twenty pieces of fine 

holland for #30, which were really worth #90, and enclosed 

me the token and an order for the taking them up, paying the 

money, which I did, and made in time above #100 of them, 

having leisure to cut them and sell them, some and some, to 

private families, as opportunity offered.



However, with all this, and all that I had secured before, I 

found, upon casting things up, my case was very much altered, 

any my fortune much lessened; for, including the hollands and 

a parcel of fine muslins, which I carried off before, and some 

plate, and other things, I found I could hardly muster up #500; 

and my condition was very odd, for though I had no child (I 

had had one by my gentleman draper, but it was buried), yet I 

was a widow bewitched; I had a husband and no husband, and 

I could not pretend to marry again, though I knew well enough 

my husband would never see England any more, if he lived fifty 

years.  Thus, I say, I was limited from marriage, what offer 

mightsoever be made me; and I had not one friend to advise 

with in the condition I was in, lease not one I durst trust the 

secret of my circumstances to, for if the commissioners were 

to have been informed where I was, I should have been fetched 

up and examined upon oath, and all I have saved be taken aware 

from me.



Upon these apprehensions, the first thing I did was to go quite 

out of my knowledge, and go by another name.  This I did 

effectually, for I went into the Mint too, took lodgings in a 

very private place, dressed up in the habit of a widow, and 

called myself Mrs. Flanders.



Here, however, I concealed myself, and though my new 

acquaintances knew nothing of me, yet I soon got a great 

deal of company about me; and whether it be that women are 

scarce among the sorts of people that generally are to be found 

there, or that some consolations in the miseries of the place 

are more requisite than on other occasions, I soon found an 

agreeable woman was exceedingly valuable among the sons 

of affliction there, and that those that wanted money to pay 

half a crown on the pound to their creditors, and that run in debt 

at the sign of the Bull for their dinners, would yet find money 

for a supper, if they liked the woman.



However, I kept myself safe yet, though I began, like my Lord 

Rochester's mistress, that loved his company, but would not 

admit him farther, to have the scandal of a whore, without the 

joy; and upon this score, tired with the place, and indeed 

with the company too, I began to think of removing.



It was indeed a subject of strange reflection to me to see men 

who were overwhelmed in perplexed circumstances, who 

were reduced some degrees below being ruined, whose families 

were objects of their own terror and other people's charity, 

yet while a penny lasted, nay, even beyond it, endeavouring to 

drown themselves, labouring to forget former things, which 

not it was the proper time to remember, making more work for 

repentance, and sinning on, as a remedy for sin past.



But it is none of my talent to preach; these men were too 

wicked, even for me.  There was something horrid and absurd 

in their way of sinning, for it was all a force even upon 

themselves; they did not only act against conscience, but 

against nature; they put a rape upon their temper to drown the 

reflections, which their circumstances continually gave them; 

and nothing was more easy than to see how sighs would 

interrupt their songs, and paleness and anguish sit upon their 

brows, in spite of the forced smiles they put on; nay, sometimes 

it would break out at their very mouths when they had parted 

with their money for a lewd treat or a wicked embrace.  I have 

heard them, turning about, fetch a deep sigh, and cry, 'What a 

dog am I!  Well, Betty, my dear, I'll drink thy health, though'; 

meaning the honest wife, that perhaps had not a half-crown 

for herself and three or four children.  The next morning they 

are at their penitentials again; and perhaps the poor weeping 

wife comes over to him, either brings him some account of 

what his creditors are doing, and how she and the children are 

turned out of doors, or some other dreadful news; and this 

adds to his self-reproaches; but when he has thought and pored 

on it till he is almost mad, having no principles to support him, 

nothing within him or above him to comfort him, but finding 

it all darkness on every side, he flies to the same relief again, 

viz. to drink it away, debauch it away, and falling into  

company of men in just the same condition with himself, he 

repeats the crime, and thus he goes every day one step 

onward of his way to destruction.



I was not wicked enough for such fellows as these yet.  On 

the contrary, I began to consider here very seriously what I 

had to do; how things stood with me, and what course I ought 

to take.  I knew I had no friends, no, not one friend or relation 

in the world; and that little I had left apparently wasted, which 

when it was gone, I saw nothing but misery and starving was 

before me.  Upon these considerations, I say, and filled with 

horror at the place I was in, and the dreadful objects which I 

had always before me, I resolved to be gone.



I had made an acquaintance with a very sober, good sort of a 

woman, who was a widow too, like me, but in better circumstances.  

Her husband had been a captain of a merchant ship, and having 

had the misfortune to be cast away coming home on a voyage 

from the West Indies, which would have been very profitable 

if he had come safe, was so reduced by the loss, that though 

he had saved his life then, it broke his heart, and killed him 

afterwards; and his widow, being pursued by the creditors, was 

forced to take shelter in the Mint.  She soon made things up 

with the help of friends, and was at liberty again; and finding 

that I rather was there to be concealed, than by any particular 

prosecutions and finding also that I agreed with her, or rather 

she with me, in a just abhorrence of the place and of the 

company, she invited to go home with her till I could put 

myself in some posture of settling in the world to my mind; 

withal telling me, that it was ten to one but some good captain 

of a ship might take a fancy to me, and court me, in that part 

of the town where she lived.



I accepted her offer, and was with her half a year, and should 

have been longer, but in that interval what she proposed to me 

happened to herself, and she married very much to her advantage.  

But whose fortune soever was upon the increase, mine seemed 

to be upon the wane, and I found nothing present, except two 

or three boatswains, or such fellows, but as for the commanders, 

they were generally of two sorts:  1. Such as, having good

business, that is to say, a good ship, resolved not to marry

but with advantage, that is, with a good fortune; 2. Such as,

being out of employ, wanted a wife to help them to a ship; I 

mean (1) a wife who, having some money, could enable them 

to hold, as they call it, a good part of a ship themselves, so to 

encourage owners to come in; or (2) a wife who, if she had not 

money, had friends who were concerned in shipping, and so 

could help to put the young man into a good ship, which to 

them is as good as a portion; and neither of these was my case, 

so I looked like one that was to lie on hand.



This knowledge I soon learned by experience, viz. that the 

state of things was altered as to  matrimony, and that I was not 

to expect at London what I had found in the country:  that 

marriages were here the consequences of politic schemes for 

forming interests, and carrying on business, and that Love had 

no share, or but very little, in the matter.



That as my sister-in-law at Colchester had said, beauty, wit, 

manners, sense, good humour, good behaviour, education, 

virtue, piety, or any other qualification, whether of body or 

mind, had no power to recommend; that money only made a 

woman agreeable; that men chose mistresses indeed by the 

gust of their affection, and it was requisite to a whore to be 

handsome, well-shaped, have a good mien and a graceful 

behaviour; but that for a wife, no deformity would shock the 

fancy, no ill qualities the judgment; the money was the thing; 

the portion was neither crooked nor monstrous, but the money 

was always agreeable, whatever the wife was.



On the other hand, as the market ran very unhappily on the 

men's side, I found the women had lost the privilege of saying 

No; that it was a favour now for a woman to have the Question 

asked, and if any young lady had so much arrogance as to 

counterfeit a negative, she never had the opportunity given 

her of denying twice, much less of recovering that false step, 

and accepting what she had but seemed to decline.  The men 

had such choice everywhere, that the case of the women was 

very unhappy; for they seemed to ply at every door, and if the 

man was by great chance refused at one house, he was sure to 

be received at the next.



Besides this, I observed that the men made no scruple to set 

themselves out, and to go a-fortunehunting, as they call it, 

when they had really no fortune themselves to demand it, or 

merit to deserve it; and that they carried it so high, that a woman 

was scarce allowed to inquire after the character or estate of 

the person that pretended to her.  This I had an example of, in 

a young lady in the next house to me, and with whom I had 

contracted an intimacy; she was courted by a young captain, 

and though she had near #2000 to her fortune, she did but 

inquire of some of his neighbours about his character, his 

morals, or substance, and he took occasion at the next visit to 

let her know, truly, that he took it very ill, and that he should 

not give her the trouble of his visits any more.  I heard of it, 

and I had begun my acquaintance with her, I went to see her 

upon it.  She entered into a close conversation with me about 

it, and unbosomed herself very freely.  I perceived presently 

that though she thought herself very ill used, yet she had no 

power to resent it, and was exceedingly piqued that she had 

lost him, and particularly that another of  less fortune had 

gained him.



I fortified her mind against such a meanness, as I called it; I 

told her, that as low as I was in the world, I would have 

despised a man that should think I ought to take him upon his 

own recommendation only, without having the liberty to 

inform myself of his fortune and of his character; also I told 

her, that as she had a good fortune, she had no need to stoop 

to the disaster of the time; that it was enough that the men 

could insult us that had but little money to recommend us, but 

if she suffered such an affront to pass upon her without resenting 

it, she would be rendered low-prized upon all occasions, and 

would be the contempt of all the women in that part of the town; 

that a woman can never want an opportunity to be revenged 

of a man that has used her ill, and that there were ways enough 

to humble such a fellow as that, or else certainly women were 

the most unhappy creatures in the world.



I found she was very well pleased with the discourse, and she 

told me seriously that she would be very glad to make him 

sensible of her just resentment, and either to bring him on again,

 or have the satisfaction of her revenge being as public as possible.



I told her, that if she would take my advice, I would tell her 

how she should obtain her wishes in both those things, and 

that I would engage I would bring the man to her door again, 

and make him beg to be let in.  She smiled at that, and soon 

let me see, that if he came to her door, her resentment was 

not so great as to give her leave to let him stand long there.



However, she listened very willingly to my offer of advice; 

so I told her that the first thing she ought to do was a piece 

of justice to herself, namely, that whereas she had been told 

by several people that he had reported among the ladies that 

he had left her, and pretended to give the advantage of the 

negative to himself, she should take care to have it well spread 

among the women--which she could not fail of an opportunity 

to do in a neighbourhood so addicted to family news as that 

she live in was--that she had inquired into his circumstances, 

and found he was not the man as to estate he pretended to be.  

'Let them be told, madam,' said I, 'that you had been well 

informed that he was not the man that you expected, and that 

you thought it was not safe to meddle with him; that you heard 

he was of an ill temper, and that he boasted how he had used 

the women ill upon many occasions, and that particularly he 

was debauched in his morals', etc.  The last of which, indeed, 

had some truth in it; but at the same time I did not find that 

she seemed to like him much the worse for that part.



As I had put this into her head, she came most readily into it.  

Immediately she went to work to find instruments, and she 

had very little difficulty in the search, for telling her story in 

general to a couple of gossips in the neighbourhood, it was the 

chat of the tea-table all over that part of the town, and I met 

with it wherever I visited; also, as it was known that I was 

acquainted with the young lady herself, my opinion was asked 

very often, and I confirmed it with all the necessary aggravations, 

and set out his character in the blackest colours; but then as a 

piece of secret intelligence, I added, as what the other gossips 

knew nothing of, viz. that I had heard he was in very bad 

circumstances; that he was under a necessity of a fortune to 

support his interest with the owners of the ship he commanded; 

that his own part was not paid for, and if it was not paid quickly, 

his owners would put him out of the ship, and his chief mate 

was likely to command it, who offered to buy that part which 

the captain had promised to take.



I added, for I confess I was heartily piqued at the rogue, as I 

called him, that I had heard a rumour, too, that he had a wife 

alive at Plymouth, and another in the West Indies, a thing which 

they all knew was not very uncommon for such kind of gentlemen. 



This worked as we both desire it, for presently the young lady 

next door, who had a father and mother that governed both 

her and her fortune, was shut up, and her father forbid him the 

house.  Also in one place more where he went, the woman had 

the courage, however strange it was, to say No; and he could 

try nowhere but he was reproached with his pride, and that he 

pretended not to give the women leave to inquire into his 

character, and the like.



Well, by this time he began to be sensible of his mistake; and 

having alarmed all the women on that side of the water, he 

went over to Ratcliff, and got access to some of the ladies 

there; but though the young women there too were, according 

to the fate of the day, pretty willing to be asked, yet such was 

his ill-luck, that his character followed him over the water and 

his good name was much the same there as it was on our side; 

so that though he might have had wives enough, yet it did not 

happen among the women that had good fortunes, which was 

what he wanted.



But this was not all; she very ingeniously managed another 

thing herself, for she got a young gentleman, who as a relation,  

and was indeed a married man, to come and visit her two or 

three times a week in a very fine chariot and good liveries, and 

her two agents, and I also, presently spread a report all over, 

that this gentleman came to court her; that he was a gentleman 

of a #1000 a year, and that he was fallen in love with her, and 

that she was going to her aunt's in the city, because it was 

inconvenient for the gentleman to come to her with his coach 

in Redriff, the streets being so narrow and difficult.



This took immediately.  The captain was laughed at in all 

companies, and was ready to hang himself.  He tried all the 

ways possible to come at her again, and wrote the most 

passionate letters to her in the world, excusing his former 

rashness; and in short, by great application, obtained leave to 

wait on her again, as he said, to clear his reputation.





At this meeting she had her full revenge of him; for she told 

him she wondered what he took her to be, that she should 

admit any man to a treaty of so much consequence as that to 

marriage, without inquiring very well into his circumstances; 

that if he thought she was to be huffed into wedlock, and that 

she was in the same circumstances which her neighbours might 

be in, viz. to take up with the first good Christian that came, 

he was mistaken; that, in a word, his character was really bad, 

or he was very ill beholden to his neighbours; and that unless 

he could clear up some points, in which she had justly been 

prejudiced, she had no more to say to him, but to do herself 

justice, and give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was 

not afraid to say No, either to him or any man else.



With that she told him what she had heard, or rather raised 

herself by my means, of his character; his not having paid for 

the part he pretended to own of the ship he commanded; of 

the resolution of his owners to put him out of the command, 

and to put his mate in his stead; and of the scandal raised on 

his morals; his having been reproached with such-and-such 

women, and having a wife at Plymouth and in the West Indies, 

and the like; and she asked him whether he could deny that she 

had good reason, if these things were not cleared up, to refuse 

him, and in the meantime to insist upon having satisfaction in 

points to significant as they were.



He was so confounded at her discourse that he could not 

answer a word, and she almost began to believe that all was 

true, by his disorder, though at the same time she knew that 

she had been the raiser of all those reports herself.



After some time he recovered himself a little, and from that 

time became the most humble, the most modest, and most 

importunate man alive in his courtship.



She carried her jest on a great way.  She asked him, if he 

thought she was so at her last shift that she could or ought to 

bear such treatment, and if he did not see that she did not 

want those who thought it worth their while to come farther 

to her than he did; meaning the gentleman whom she had 

brought to visit her by way of sham.



She brought him by these tricks to submit to all possible 

measures to satisfy her, as well of his circumstances as of his 

behaviour.  He brought her undeniable evidence of his having 

paid for his part of the ship; he brought her certificates from 

his owners, that the report of their intending to remove him 

from the command of the ship and put his chief mate in was 

false and groundless; in short, he was quite the reverse of what 

he was before.



Thus I convinced her, that if the men made their advantage 

of our sex in the affair of marriage, upon the supposition of 

there being such choice to be had, and of the women being 

so easy, it was only owing to this, that the women wanted 

courage to maintain their ground and to play their part; and 

that, according to my Lord Rochester,



     'A woman's ne'er so ruined but she can 

     Revenge herself on her undoer, Man.'



After these things this young lady played her part so well, that 

though she resolved to have him, and that indeed having him 

was the main bent of her design, yet she made his obtaining 

her be to him the most difficult thing in the world; and this she 

did, not by a haughty reserved carriage, but by a just policy, 

turning the tables upon him, and playing back upon him his 

own game; for as he pretended, by a kind of lofty carriage, to 

place himself above the occasion of a character, and to make 

inquiring into his character a kind of an affront to him, she 

broke with him upon that subject, and at the same time that 

she make him submit to all possible inquiry after his affairs, 

she apparently shut the door against his looking into her own.



It was enough to him to obtain her for a wife.  As to what 

she had, she told him plainly, that as he knew her circumstances, 

it was but just she should know his; and though at the same 

time he had only known her circumstances by common fame, 

yet he had made so many protestations of his passion for her, 

that he could ask no more but her hand to his grand request, 

and the like ramble according to the custom of lovers.  In short, 

he left himself no room to ask any more questions about her 

estate, and she took the advantage of it like a prudent woman, 

for she placed part of her fortune so in trustees, without letting 

him know anything of it, that it was quite out of his reach, and 

made him be very well content with the rest.



It is true she was pretty well besides, that is to say, she had  

about #1400 in money, which she gave him; and the other, 

after some time, she brought to light as a perquisite to herself, 

which he was to accept as a mighty favour, seeing though it 

was not to be his, it might ease him in the article of her particular 

expenses; and I must add, that by this conduct the gentleman 

himself became not only the more humble in his applications 

to her to obtain her, but also was much the more an obliging 

husband to her when he had her.  I cannot but remind the ladies 

here how much they place themselves below the common 

station of a wife, which, if I may be allowed not to be partial, 

is low enough already; I say, they place themselves below their 

common station, and prepare their own mortifications, by their

submitting so to be insulted by the men beforehand, which I 

confess I see no necessity of.



This relation may serve, therefore, to let the ladies see that 

the advantage is not so much on the other side as the men 

think it is; and though it may be true that the men have but too 

much choice among us, and that some women may be found 

who will dishonour themselves, be cheap, and easy to come 

at, and will scarce wait to be asked, yet if they will have women, 

as I may say, worth having, they may find them as uncomeatable 

as ever and that those that are otherwise are a sort of people 

that have such deficiencies, when had, as rather recommend 

the ladies that are difficult than encourage the men to go on 

with their easy courtship, and expect wives equally valuable 

that will come at first call.



Nothing is more certain than that the ladies always gain of the 

men by keeping their ground, and letting their pretended 

lovers see they can resent being slighted, and that they are not 

afraid of saying No.  They, I observe, insult us mightily with 

telling us of the number of women; that the wars, and the sea, 

and trade, and other incidents have carried the men so much 

away, that there is no proportion between the numbers of the 

sexes, and therefore the women have the disadvantage; but I 

am far from granting that the number of women is so great, 

or the number of men so small; but if they will have me tell 

the truth, the disadvantage of the women is a terrible scandal 

upon the men, and it lies here, and here only; namely, that the 

age is so wicked, and the sex so debauched, that, in short, the 

number of such men as an honest woman ought to meddle 

with is small indeed, and it is but here and there that a man is 

to be found who is fit for a woman to venture upon.



But the consequence even of that too amounts to no more 

than this, that women ought to be the more nice; for how do 

we know the just character of the man that makes the offer?  

To say that the woman should be the more easy on this 

occasion, is to say we should be the forwarder to venture 

because of the greatness of the danger, which, in my way of 

reasoning, is very absurd.

 

On the contrary, the women have ten thousand times the more 

reason to be wary and backward, by how much the hazard of 

being betrayed is the greater; and would the ladies consider 

this, and act the wary part, they would discover every cheat 

that offered; for, in short, the lives of very few men nowadays 

will bear a character; and if the ladies do but make a little 

inquiry, they will soon be able to distinguish the men and 

deliver themselves.  As for women that do not think they own 

safety worth their though, that, impatient of their perfect state, 

resolve, as they call it, to take the first good Christian that 

comes, that run into matrimony as a horse rushes into the battle, 

I can say nothing to them but this, that they are a sort of ladies 

that are to be prayed for among the rest of distempered people, 

and to me they look like people that venture their whole estates 

in a lottery where there is a hundred thousand blanks to one prize. 



No man of common-sense will value a woman the less for not 

giving up herself at the first attack, or for accepting his proposal 

without inquiring into his person or character; on the contrary, 

he must think her the weakest of all creatures in the world, as 

the rate of men now goes.  In short, he must have a very 

contemptible opinion of her capacities, nay, every of her 

understanding, that, having but one case of her life, shall call 

that life away at once, and make matrimony, like death, be a 

leap in the dark.



I would fain have the conduct of my sex a little regulated in 

this particular, which is the thing in which, of all the parts of 

life, I think at this time we suffer most in; 'tis nothing but lack 

of courage, the fear of not being married at all, and of that 

frightful state of life called an old maid, of which I have a 

story to tell by itself.  This, I say, is the woman's snare; but 

would the ladies once but get above that fear and manage 

rightly, they would more certainly avoid it by standing their 

ground, in a case so absolutely necessary to their felicity, that 

by exposing themselves as they do; and if they did not marry 

so soon as they may do otherwise, they would make themselves 

amends by marrying safer.  She is always married too soon who 

gets a bad husband, and she is never married too late who gets 

a good one; in a word, there is no woman, deformity or lost 

reputation excepted, but if she manages well, may be married 

safely one time or other; but if she precipitates herself, it is ten 

thousand to one but she is undone.



But I come now to my own case, in which there was at this 

time no little nicety.  The circumstances I was in made the 

offer of a good husband the most necessary thing in the world 

to me, but I found soon that to be made cheap and easy was 

not the way.  It soon began to be found that the widow had 

no fortune, and to say this was to say all that was ill of me, 

for I began to be dropped in all the discourses of matrimony.  

Being well-bred, handsome, witty, modest, and agreeable; all 

which I had allowed to my character--whether justly or no is 

not the purpose--I say, all these would not do without the 

dross, which way now become more valuable than virtue itself.  

In short, the widow, they said, had no money.



I resolved, therefore, as to the state of my present circumstances, 

that it was absolutely necessary to change my station, and make 

a new appearance in some other place where I was not known, 

and even to pass by another name if I found occasion.



I communicated my thoughts to my intimate friend, the captain's 

lady, whom I had so faithfully served in her case with the 

captain, and who was as ready to serve me in the same kind 

as I could desire.  I made no scruple to lay my circumstances 

open to her; my stock was but low, for I had made but about 

#540 at the close of my last affair, and I had wasted some of 

that; however, I had about #460 left, a great many very rich 

clothes, a gold watch, and some jewels, though of no 

extraordinary value, and about #30 or #40 left in linen not 

disposed of.



My dear and faithful friend, the captain's wife, was so sensible 

of the service I had done her in the affair above, that she was 

not only a steady friend to me, but, knowing my circumstances, 

she frequently made me presents as money came into her 

hands, such as fully amounted to a maintenance, so that I spent 

none of my own; and at last she made this unhappy proposal 

to me, viz. that as we had observed, as above, how the men 

made no scruple to set themselves out as persons meriting a 

woman of fortune, when they had really no fortune of their 

own, it was but just to deal with them in their own way and, 

if it was possible, to deceive the deceiver.



The captain's lady, in short, put this project into my head, and 

told me if I would be ruled by her I should certainly get a 

husband of fortune, without leaving him any room to reproach 

me with want of my own.  I told her, as I had reason to do, 

that I would give up myself wholly to her directions, and that 

I would have neither tongue to speak nor feet to step in that 

affair but as she should direct me, depending that she would 

extricate me out of every difficulty she brought me into, 

which she said she would answer for.



The first step she put me upon was to call her cousin, and to 

to a relation's house of hers in the country, where she directed 

me, and where she brought her husband to visit me; and calling 

me cousin, she worked matters so about, that her husband 

and she together invited me most passionately to come to town 

and be with them, for they now live in a quite different place 

from where they were before.  In the next place, she tells her 

husband that I had at least #1500 fortune, and that after some 

of my relations I was like to have a great deal more.



It was enough to tell her husband this; there needed nothing 

on my side.  I was but to sit still and wait the event, for it 

presently went all over the neighbourhood that the young 

widow at Captain ----'s was a fortune, that she had at least 

#1500, and perhaps a great deal more, and that the captain 

said so; and if the captain was asked at any timeabout me, 

he made no scruple to affirm it, though he knew not one word 

of the matter, other  than that his wife had told him so; and in 

this he thought no harm, for he really believed it to be so, 

because he had it from his wife:  so slender a foundation will 

those fellows build upon, if they do but think there is a fortune 

in the game.  With the reputation of this fortune, I presently 

found myself blessed with admirers enough, and that I had my 

choice of men, as scarce as they said they were, which, by the 

way, confirms what I was saying before.  This being my case, 

I, who had a subtle game to play, had nothing now to do but 

to single out from them all the properest man that might be 

for my purpose; that is to say, the man who was most likely 

to depend upon the hearsay of a fortune, and not inquire too 

far into the particulars; and unless I did this I did nothing, for 

my case would not bear much inquiry.



I picked out my man without much difficulty, by the judgment 

I made of his way of courting me.  I had let him run on with 

his protestations and oaths that he loved me above all the world; 

that if I would make him happy, that was enough; all which I 

knew was upon supposition, nay, it was upon a full satisfaction, 

that I was very rich, though I never told him a word of it myself.



This was my man; but I was to try him to the bottom, and 

indeed in that consisted my safety; for if he baulked, I knew I 

was undone, as surely as he was undone if he took me; and 

if I did not make some scruple about his fortune, it was the 

way to lead him to raise some about mine; and first, therefore, 

I pretended on all occasions to doubt his sincerity, and told 

him, perhaps he only courted me for my fortune.  He stopped 

my mouth in that part with the thunder of his protestations, 

as above,  but still I pretended to doubt.



One morning he pulls off his diamond ring, and writes upon 

the glass of the sash in my chamber this line-- 

     'You I love, and you alone.'



I read it, and asked him to lend me his ring, with which I wrote 

under it, thus--



    'And so in love says every one.'



He takes his ring again, and writes another line thus-- 



     'Virtue alone is an estate.'  



I borrowed it again, and I wrote under it-- 



     'But money's virtue, gold is fate.'



He coloured as red as fire to see me turn so quick upon him, 

and in a kind of a rage told me he would conquer me, and 

writes again thus-- 



     'I scorn your gold, and yet I love.'



I ventured all upon the last cast of poetry, as you'll see, for I 

wrote boldly under his last-- 



     'I'm poor:  let's see how kind you'll prove.'  



This was a sad truth to me; whether he believed me or no, I 

could not tell; I supposed then that he did not.  However, he 

flew to me, took me in his arms, and, kissing me very eagerly, 

and with the greatest passion imaginable, he held me fast till 

he called for a pen and ink, and then told me he could not wait 

the tedious writing on the glass, but, pulling out a piece of 

paper, he began and wrote again--



     'Be mine, with all your poverty.'



I took his pen, and followed him immediately, thus-- 



     'Yet secretly you hope I lie.'



He told me that was unkind, because it was not just, and that 

I put him upon contradicting me, which did not consist with 

good manners, any more than with his affection; and therefore, 

since I had insensibly drawn him into this poetical scribble, he 

begged I would not oblige him to break it off; so he writes 

again-- 



     'Let love alone be our debate.'



I wrote again--



     'She loves enough that does not hate.'





This he took for a favour, and so laid down the cudgels, that 

is to say, the pen; I say, he took if for a favour, and a mighty 

one it was, if he had known all.  However, he took it as I meant 

it, that is, to let him think I was inclined to go on with him, as 

indeed I had all the reason in the world to do, for he was the 

best-humoured, merry sort of a fellow that I ever met with, 

and I often reflected on myself how doubly criminal it was to 

deceive such a man; but that necessity, which pressed me to 

a settlement suitable to my condition, was my authority for it; 

and certainly his affection to me, and the goodness of his temper, 

however they might argue against using him ill, yet they strongly 

argued to me that he would better take the disappointment 

than some fiery-tempered wretch, who might have nothing to 

recommend him but those passions which would serve only to 

make a woman miserable all her days.



Besides, though I jested with him (as he supposed it) so 

often about my poverty, yet, when he found it to be true, he 

had foreclosed all manner of objection, seeing, whether he 

was in jest or in earnest, he had declared he took me without 

any regard to my portion, and, whether I was in jest or in 

earnest, I had declared myself to be very poor; so that, in a 

word, I had him fast both ways; and though he might say 

afterwards he was cheated, yet he could never say that I had 

cheated him.



He pursued me close after this, and as I saw there was no need 

to fear losing him, I played the indifferent part with him longer 

than prudence might otherwise have dictated to me.  But I 

considered how much this caution and indifference would give 

me the advantage over him, when I should come to be under 

the necessity of owning my own circumstances to him; and I 

managed it the more warily, because I found he inferred from 

thence, as indeed he ought to do, that I either had the more 

money or the more judgment, and would not venture at all.



I took the freedom one day, after we had talked pretty close 

to the subject, to tell him that it was true I had received the 

compliment of a lover from him, namely, that he would take 

me without inquiring into my fortune, and I would make him 

a suitable return in this, viz. that I would make as little inquiry 

into his as consisted with reason, but I hoped he would allow 

me to ask a few questions, which he would answer or not as 

he thought fit; and that I would not be offended if he did not 

answer me at all; one of these questions related to our manner 

of living, and the place where, because I had heard he had a 

great plantation in Virginia, and that he had talked of going 

to live there, and I told him I did not care to be transported. 



He began from this discourse to let me voluntarily into all 

his affairs, and to tell me in a frank, open way all his 

circumstances, by which I found he was very well to pass in 

the world; but that great part of his estate consisted of three 

plantations, which he had in Virginia, which brought him in a 

very good income, generally speaking, to the tune of #300, a 

year, but that if he was to live upon them, would bring him in 

four times as much.  'Very well,' thought I; 'you shall carry 

me thither as soon as you please, though I won't tell you so 

beforehand.' 



I jested with him extremely about the figure he would make 

in Virginia; but I found he would do anything I desired, though 

he did not seem glad to have me undervalue his plantations, 

so I turned my tale.  I told him I had good reason not to go 

there to live, because if his plantations were worth so much 

there, I had not a fortune suitable to a gentleman of #1200 a 

year, as he said his estate would be.



He replied generously, he did not ask what my fortune was; 

he had told me from the beginning he would not, and he would 

be as good as his word; but whatever it was, he assured me he 

would never desire me to go to Virginia with him, or go thither 

himself without me, unless I was perfectly willing, and made 

it my choice.



All this, you may be sure, was as I wished, and indeed nothing 

could have happened more perfectly agreeable.  I carried it on 

as far as this with a sort of indifferency that he often wondered 

at, more than at first, but which was the only support of his 

courtship; and I mention it the rather to intimate again to the 

ladies that nothing but want of courage for such an indifferency 

makes our sex so cheap, and prepares them to be ill-used as 

they are; would they venture the loss of a pretending fop now 

and then, who carries it high upon the point of his own merit, 

they would certainly be less slighted, and courted more.  Had 

I discovered really and truly what my great fortune was, and 

that in all I had not full #500 when he expected #1500, yet I 

had hooked him so fast, and played him so long, that I was 

satisfied he would have had me in my worst circumstances; 

and indeed it was less a surprise to him when he learned the 

truth than it would have been, because having not the least 

blame to lay on me, who had carried it with an air of indifference 

to the last, he would not say one word, except that indeed he 

thought it had been more, but that if it had been less he did 

not repent his bargain; only that he should not be able to 

maintain me so well as he intended.



In short, we were married, and very happily married on my 

side, I assure you, as to the man; for he was the best-humoured 

man that every woman had, but his circumstances were not so 

good as I imagined, as, on the other hand, he had not bettered 

himself by marrying so much as he expected.



When we were married, I was shrewdly put to it to bring him 

that little stock I had, and to let him see it was no more; but 

there was a necessity for it, so I took my opportunity one day 

when we were alone, to enter into a short dialogue with him 

about it.  'My dear,' said I, 'we have been married a fortnight; 

is it not time to let you know whether you have got a wife 

with something or with nothing?'  'Your own time for that, 

my dear,' says he; 'I am satisfied that I have got the wife I 

love; I have not troubled you much,' says he, 'with my inquiry 

after it.' 



'That's true,' says I, 'but I have a great difficulty upon me 

about it, which I scarce know how to manage.'



'What's that, m dear?' says he.



'Why,' says I, ''tis a little hard upon me, and 'tis harder upon 

you.  I am told that Captain ----' (meaning my friend's husband) 

'has told you I had a great deal more money than I ever 

pretended to have, and I am sure I never employed him to do so.'



'Well,' says he, 'Captain ---- may have told me so, but what 

then?  If you have not so much, that may lie at his door, but 

you never told me what you had, so I have no reason to blame 

you if you have nothing at all.'



'That's is so just,' said I, 'and so generous, that it makes my 

having but a little a double affliction to me.'



'The less you have, my dear,' says he, 'the worse for us both; 

but I hope your affliction you speak of is not caused for fear 

I should be unkind to you, for want of a portion.  No, no, if 

you have nothing, tell me plainly, and at once; I may perhaps 

tell the captain he has cheated me, but I can never say you 

have cheated me, for did you not give it under your hand that 

you were poor?  and so I ought to expect you to be.'



'Well,' said I, 'my dear, I am glad I have not been concerned 

in deceiving you before marriage.  If I deceive you since, 'tis 

ne'er the worse; that I am poor is too true, but not so poor as 

to have nothing neither'; so I pulled out some bank bills, and 

gave him about #160.  'There's something, my dear,' said I, 

'and not quite all neither.'



I had brought him so near to expecting nothing, by what I had 

said before, that the money, though the sum was small in itself, 

was doubly welcome to him; he owned it was more than he 

looked for, and that he did not question by my discourse to 

him, but that my fine clothes, gold watch, and a diamond ring 

or two, had been all my fortune.



I let him please himself with that #160 two or three days, and 

then, having been abroad that day, and as if I had  been to fetch 

it, I brought him #100 more home in gold, and told him there 

was a little more portion for him; and, in short, in about a week 

more I brought him #180 more, and about #60 in linen, which 

I made him believe I had been obliged to take with the #100

which I gave him in gold, as a composition for a debt of #600, 

being little more than five shillings in the pound, and overvalued too.



'And now, my dear,' says I to him, 'I am very sorry to tell you, 

that there is all, and that I have given you my whole fortune.' 

I added, that if the person who had my #600 had not abused 

me, I had been worth #1000 to him, but that as it was, I had 

been faithful to him, and reserved nothing to myself, but if it 

had been more he should have had it.



He was so obliged by the manner, and so pleased with the sum,

for he had been in a terrible fright lest it had been nothing at 

all, that he accepted it very thankfully.  And thus I got over 

the fraud of passing for a fortune without money, and cheating 

a man into marrying me on pretence of a fortune; which, by 

the way, I take to be one of the most dangerous steps a woman 

can take, and in which she runs the most hazard of being 

ill-used afterwards.



My husband, to give him his due, was a man of infinite good 

nature, but he was no fool; and finding his income not suited 

to the manner of living which he had intended, if I had brought 

him what he expected, and being under a disappointment in 

his return of his plantations in Virginia, he discovered many 

times his inclination of going over to Virginia, to live upon 

his own; and often would be magnifying the way of living 

there, how cheap, how plentiful, how pleasant, and the like.



I began presently to understand this meaning, and I took 

him up very plainly one morning, and told him that I did so; 

that I found his estate turned to no account at this distance, 

compared to what it would do if he lived upon the spot, and 

that I found he had a mind to go and live there; and I added, 

that I was sensible he had been disappointed in a wife, and 

that finding his expectations not answered that way, I could 

do no less, to make him amends, than tell him that I was very 

willing to go over to Virginia with him and live there.



He said a thousand kind things to me upon the subject of my 

making such a proposal to him.  He told me, that however 

he was disappointed in his expectations of a fortune, he was 

not disappointed in a wife, and that I was all to him that a 

wife could be, and he was more than satisfied on the whole 

when the particulars were put together, but that this offer was 

so kind, that it was more than he could express.



To bring the story short, we agreed to go.  He told me that he 

had a very good house there, that it was well furnished, that 

his mother was alive and lived in it, and one sister, which was 

all the relations he had; that as soon as he came there, his 

mother would remove to another house, which was her own 

for life, and his after her decease; so that I should have all the 

house to myself; and I found all this to be exactly as he had 

said.



To make this part of the story short, we put on board the ship 

which we went in, a large quantity of good furniture for our 

house, with stores of linen and other necessaries, and a good 

cargo for sale, and away we went.



To give an account of the manner of our voyage, which was 

long and full of dangers, is out of my way; I kept no journal, 

neither did my husband.  All that I can say is, that after a 

terrible passage, frighted twice with dreadful storms, and once 

with what was still more terrible, I mean a pirate who came 

on board and took away almost all our provisions; and which 

would have been beyond all to me, they had once taken my 

husband to go along with them, but by entreaties were prevailed 

with to leave him;--I say, after all these terrible things, we 

arrived in York River in Virginia, and coming to our plantation, 

we were received with all the demonstrations of tenderness 

and affection, by my husband's mother, that were possible to 

be expressed.



We lived here all together, my mother-in-law, at my entreaty, 

continuing in the house, for she was too kind a mother to be 

parted with; my husband likewise continued the same as at 

first, and I thought myself the happiest creature alive, when 

an odd and surprising event put an end to all that felicity in a 

moment, and rendered my condition the most uncomfortable, 

if not the most miserable, in the world.



My mother was a mighty cheerful, good-humoured old woman 

--I may call her old woman, for her son was above thirty; I 

say she was very pleasant, good company, and used to entertain 

me, in particular, with abundance of stories to divert me, as 

well of  the country we were in as of the people.



Among the rest, she often told me how the greatest part of 

the inhabitants of the colony came thither in very indifferent 

circumstances from England; that, generally speaking, they 

were of two sorts; either, first, such as were brought over by 

masters of ships to be sold as servants.  'Such as we call them, 

my dear,' says she, 'but they are more properly called slaves.'  

Or, secondly, such as are transported from Newgate and other 

prisons, after having been found guilty of felony and other 

crimes punishable with death.



'When they come here,' says she, 'we make no difference; the 

planters buy them, and they work together in the field till 

their time is out.  When 'tis expired,' said she, 'they have 

encouragement given them to plant for themselves; for they 

have a certain number of acres of land allotted them by the 

country, and they go to work to clear and cure the land, and 

then to plant it with tobacco and corn for their own use; and 

as the tradesmen and merchants will trust them with tools and 

clothes and other necessaries, upon the credit of their crop 

before it is grown, so they again plant every year a little more 

than the year before, and so buy whatever they want with the 

crop that is before them.



'Hence, child,' says she, 'man a Newgate-bird becomes a great 

man, and we have,' continued she, 'several justices of the peace, 

officers of the trained bands, and magistrates of the towns they 

live in, that have been burnt in the hand.'



She was going on with that part of the story, when her own 

part in it interrupted her, and with a great deal of good-humoured 

confidence she told me she was one of the second sort of 

inhabitants herself; that she came away openly, having ventured 

too far in a particular case, so that she was become a criminal.  

'And here's the mark of it, child,' says she; and, pulling off her 

glove, 'look ye here,' says she, turning up the palm of her 

hand, and showed me a very fine white arm and hand, but 

branded in the inside of the hand, as in such cases it must be.



This story was very moving to me, but my mother, smiling, 

said, 'You need not thing a thing strange, daughter, for as I 

told you, some of the best men in this country are burnt in the 

hand, and they are not ashamed to own it.  There's Major ----,' 

says she, 'he was an eminent pickpocket; there's Justice Ba----r, 

was a shoplifter, and both of them were burnt in the hand; and 

I could name you several such as they are.'



We had frequent discourses of this kind, and abundance of 

instances she gave me of the like.  After some time, as she was 

telling some stories of one that was transported but a few 

weeks ago, I began in an intimate kind of way to ask her to 

tell me something of her own story, which she did with the 

utmost plainness and sincerity; how she had fallen into very ill 

company in London in her young days, occasioned by her 

mother sending her frequently to carry victuals and other relief 

to a kinswoman of hers who was a prisoner in Newgate, and 

who lay in a miserable starving condition, was afterwards 

condemned to be hanged, but having got respite by pleading 

her belly, dies afterwards in the prison.



Here my mother-in-law ran out in a long account of the wicked 

practices in that dreadful place, and how it ruined more young 

people that all the town besides.  'And child,' says my mother, 

'perhaps you may know little of it, or, it may be, have heard 

nothing about it; but depend upon it,' says she, 'we all know 

here that there are more thieves and rogues made by that one 

prison of Newgate than by all the clubs and societies of villains 

in the nation; 'tis that cursed place,' says my mother, 'that half 

peopled this colony.'



Here she went on with her own story so long, and in so particular 

a manner, that I began to be very uneasy; but coming to one 

particular that required telling her name, I thought I should 

have sunk down in the place.  She perceived I was out of 

order, and asked me if I was not well, and what ailed me.  I 

told her I was so affected with the melancholy story she had 

told, and the terrible things she had gone through, that it had 

overcome me, and I begged of her to talk no more of it.  'Why, 

my dear,' says she very kindly, 'what need these things trouble 

you?  These passages were long before your time, and they 

give me no trouble at all now; nay, I look back on them with 

a particular satisfaction, as they have been a means to bring 

me to this place.'  Then she went on to tell me how she very 

luckily fell into a good family, where, behaving herself well, 

and her mistress dying, her master married her, by whom she 

had my husband and his sister, and that by her diligence and 

good management after her husband's death, she had improved 

the plantations to such a degree as they then were, so that most 

of the estate was of her getting, not her husband's, for she had 

been a widow upwards of sixteen years.



I heard this part of they story with very little attention, because 

I wanted much to retire and give vent to my passions, which 

I did soon after; and let any one judge what must be the anguish 

of my mind, when I came to reflect that this was certainly no 

more or less than my own mother, and I had now had two

children, and was big with another by my own brother, and 

lay with him still every night.



I was now the most unhappy of all women in the world.  Oh!  

had the story never been told me, all had been well; it had been 

no crime to have lain with my husband, since as to his being 

my relation I had known nothing of it.



I had now such a load on my mind that it kept me perpetually 

waking; to reveal it, which would have been some ease to me, 

I could not find would be to any purpose, and yet to conceal 

it would be next to impossible; nay, I did not doubt but I should 

talk of it in my sleep, and tell my husband of it whether I would 

or no.  If I discovered it, the least thing I could expect was to 

lose my husband, for he was too nice and too honest a man 

to have continued my husband after he had known I had been 

his sister; so that I was perplexed to the last degree.



I leave it to any man to judge what difficulties presented to 

my view.  I was away from my native country, at a distance 

prodigious, and the return to me unpassable.  I lived very well, 

but in a circumstance insufferable in itself.  If I had discovered 

myself to my mother, it might be difficult to convince her of 

the particulars, and I had no way to prove them.  On the other 

hand, if she had questioned or doubted me, I had been undone, 

for the bare suggestion would have immediately separated me 

from my husband, without gaining my mother or him, who 

would have been neither a husband nor a brother; so that 

between the surprise on one hand, and the uncertainty on the 

other, I had been sure to be undone.



In the meantime, as I was but too sure of the fact, I lived 

therefore in open avowed incest and whoredom, and all under 

the appearance of an honest wife; and though I was not much 

touched with the crime of it, yet the action had something in 

it shocking to nature, and made my husband, as he thought 

himself, even nauseous to me.



However, upon the most sedate consideration, I resolved that 

it was absolutely necessary to conceal it all and not make the 

least discovery of it either to mother or husband; and thus I 

lived with the greatest pressure imaginable for three years 

more, but had no more children. 



During this time my mother used to be frequently telling me 

old stories of her former adventures, which, however, were 

no ways pleasant to me; for by it, though she did not tell it me 

in plain terms, yet I could easily understand, joined with what 

I had heard myself, of my first tutors, that in her younger days 

she had been both whore and thief; but I verily believed she 

had lived to repent sincerely of both, and that she was then a 

very pious, sober, and religious woman.



Well, let her life have been what it would then, it was certain 

that my life was very uneasy to me; for I lived, as I have said, 

but in the worst sort of whoredom, and as I could expect no 

good of it, so really no good issue came of it, and all my 

seeming prosperity wore off, and ended in misery and 

destruction.  It was some time, indeed, before it came to this, 

for, but I know not by what ill fate guided, everything went 

wrong with us afterwards, and that which was worse, my 

husband grew strangely altered, forward, jealous, and unkind, 

and I was as impatient of bearing his carriage, as the carriage 

was unreasonable and unjust.  These things proceeded so far, 

that we came at last to be in such ill terms with one another, 

that I claimed a promise of him, which he entered willingly 

into with me when I consented to come from England with 

him, viz. that if I found the country not to agree with me, or 

that I did not like to live there, I should come away to England 

again when I pleased, giving him a year's warning to settle 

his affairs.



I say, I now claimed this promise of him, and I must confess 

I did it not in the most obliging terms that could be in the 

world neither; but I insisted that he treated me ill, that I was 

remote from my friends, and could do myself no justice, and 

that he was jealous without cause, my conversation having 

been unblamable, and he having no pretense for it, and that to 

remove to England would take away all occasion from him.



I insisted so peremptorily upon it, that he could not avoid 

coming to a point, either to keep his word with me or to break 

it; and this, notwithstanding he used all the skill he was master 

of, and employed his mother and other agents to prevail with 

me to alter my resolutions; indeed, the bottom of the thing lay 

at my heart, and that made all his endeavours fruitless, for my 

heart was alienated from him as a husband.  I loathed the 

thoughts of bedding with him, and used a thousand pretenses 

of illness and humour to prevent his touching me, fearing 

nothing more than to be with child by him, which to be sure 

would have prevented, or at least delayed, my going over to 

England.



However, at last I put him so out of humour, that he took up 

a rash and fatal resolution; in short, I should not go to England; 

and though he had promised me, yet it was an unreasonable 

thing for me to desire it; that it would be ruinous to his affairs, 

would unhinge his whole family, and be next to an undoing 

him in the world; that therefore I ought not to desire it of him, 

and that no wife in the world that valued her family and her 

husband's prosperity would insist upon such a thing.



This plunged me again, for when I considered the thing 

calmly, and took my husband as he really was, a diligent, 

careful man in the main work of laying up an estate for his 

children, and that he knew nothing of the dreadful circumstances 

that he was in, I could not but confess to myself that my 

proposal was very unreasonable, and what no wife that had 

the good of her family at heart would have desired.



But my discontents were of another nature; I looked upon him 

no longer as a husband, but as a near relation, the son of my 

own mother, and I resolved somehow or other to be clear of 

him, but which way I did not know, nor did it seem possible.



It is said by the ill-natured world, of our sex, that if we are 

set on a thing, it is impossible to turn us from our resolutions; 

in short, I never ceased poring upon the means to bring to 

pass my voyage, and came that length with my husband at last, 

as to propose going without him.  This provoked him to the 

last degree, and he called me not only an unkind wife, but an 

unnatural mother, and asked me how I could entertain such a 

thought without horror, as that of leaving my two children 

(for one was dead) without a mother, and to be brought up by 

strangers, and never to see them more.  It was true, had things 

been right, I should not have done it, but now it was my real 

desire never to see them, or him either, any more; and as to the 

charge of unnatural, I could easily answer it to myself, while 

I knew that the whole relation was unnatural in the highest 

degree in the world. 



However, it was plain there was no bringing my husband to 

anything; he would neither go with me nor let me go without 

him, and it was quite out of my power to stir without his  

consent, as any one that knows the constitution of the country 

I was in, knows very well.



We had many family quarrels about it, and they began in 

time to grow up to a dangerous height; for as I was quite 

estranged form my husband (as he was called) in affection, so 

I took no heed to my words, but sometimes gave him language 

that was provoking; and, in short, strove all I could to bring 

him to a parting with me, which was what above all things in 

the world I desired most.



He took my carriage very ill, and indeed he might well do so, 

for at last I refused to bed with him, and carrying on the breach 

upon all occasions to extremity, he told me once he thought I 

was mad, and if I did not alter my conduct, he would put me 

under cure; that is to say, into a madhouse.  I told him he 

should find I was far enough from mad, and that it was not in 

his power, or any other villain's, to murder me.  I confess at 

the same time I was heartily frighted at his thoughts of putting 

me into a madhouse, which would at once have destroyed all 

the possibility of breaking the truth out, whatever the occasion 

might be; for that then no one would have given credit to a 

word of it.



This therefore brought me to a resolution, whatever came of 

it, to lay open my whole case; but which way to do it, or to 

whom, was an inextricable difficulty, and took me many months 

to resolve.  In the meantime, another quarrel with my husband 

happened, which came up to such a mad extreme as almost 

pushed me on to tell it him all to his face; but though I kept it 

in so as not to come to the particulars, I spoke so much as put 

him into the utmost confusion, and in the end brought out the 

whole story.



He began with a calm expostulation upon my being so resolute 

to go to England; I defended it, and one hard word bringing 

on another, as is usual in all family strife, he told me I did not 

treat him as if he was my husband, or talk of my children as if

I was a mother; and, in short, that I did not deserve to be used

as a wife; that he had used all the fair means possible with me;

that he had argued with all the kindness and calmness that a

husband or a Christian ought to do, and that I made him such 

a vile return, that I treated him rather like a dog than a man, 

and rather like the most contemptible stranger than a husband; 

that he was very loth to use violence with me, but that, in short, 

he saw a necessity of it now, and that for the future he should 

be obliged to take such measures as should reduce me to my 

duty.



My blood was now fired to the utmost, though I knew what 

he had said was very true, and nothing could appear more 

provoked.  I told him, for his fair means and his foul, they 

were equally contemned by me; that for my going to England, 

I was resolved on it, come what would; and that as to treating 

him not like a husband, and not showing myself a mother to 

my children, there might be something more in it than he 

understood at present; but, for his further consideration, I 

thought fit to tell him thus much, that he neither was my lawful 

husband, nor they lawful children, and that I had reason to 

regard neither of them more than I did.



I confess I was moved to pity him when I spoke it, for he 

turned pale as death, and stood mute as one thunderstruck, 

and once or twice I thought he would have fainted; in short, 

it put him in a fit something like an apoplex; he trembled, a 

sweat or dew ran off his face, and yet he was cold as a clod, 

so that I was forced to run and fetch something for him to 

keep life in him.  When he recovered of that, he grew sick and 

vomited, and in a little after was put to bed, and the next 

morning was, as he had been indeed all night, in a violent fever.



However, it went off again, and he recovered, though but 

slowly, and when he came to be a little better, he told me I 

had given him a mortal wound with my tongue, and he had 

only one thing to ask before he desired an explanation.  I 

interrupted him, and told him I was sorry I had gone so far, 

since I saw what disorder it put him into, but I desired him 

not to talk to me of explanations, for that would but make 

things worse.



This heightened his impatience, and, indeed, perplexed him 

beyond all bearing; for now he began to suspect that there 

was some mystery yet unfolded, but could not make the least 

guess at the real particulars of it; all that ran in his brain was, 

that I had another husband alive, which I could not say in fact 

might not be true, but I assured him, however, there was not 

the least of that in it; and indeed, as to my other husband, he 

was effectually dead in law to me, and had told me I should 

look on him as such, so I had not the least uneasiness on that 

score.



But now I found the thing too far gone to conceal it much 

longer, and my husband himself gave me an opportunity to 

ease myself of the secret, much to my satisfaction.  He had 

laboured with me three or four weeks, but to no purpose, only 

to tell him whether I had spoken these words only as the effect 

of my passion, to put him in a passion, or whether there was 

anything of  truth in the bottom of them.  But I continued 

inflexible, and would explain nothing, unless he would first 

consent to my going to England, which he would never do, 

he said, while he lived; on the other hand, I said it was in my 

power to make him willing when I pleased--nay, to make him 

entreat me to go; and this increased his curiosity, and made him 

importunate to the highest degree, but it was all to no purpose.



At length he tells all this story to his mother, and sets her upon 

me to get the main secret out of me, and she used her utmost 

skill with me indeed; but I put her to a full stop at once by 

telling her that the reason and mystery of the whole matter lay 

in herself, and that it was my respect to her that had made me 

conceal it; and that, in short, I could go no farther, and therefore 

conjured her not to insist upon it.



She was struck dumb at this suggestion, and could not tell 

what to say or to think; but, laying aside the supposition as a 

policy of mine, continued her importunity on account of her 

son, and, if possible, to make up the breach between us two.  

As to that, I told her that it was indeed a good design in her, 

but that it was impossible to be done; and that if I should reveal 

to her the truth of what she desired, she would grant it to be 

impossible, and cease to desire it.  At last I seemed to be 

prevailed on by her importunity, and told her I dared trust her 

with a secret of the greatest importance, and she would soon 

see that this was so, and that I would consent to lodge it in 

her breast, if she would engage solemnly not to acquaint her 

son with it without my consent.



She was long in promising this part, but rather than not come 

at the main secret, she agreed to that too, and after a great 

many other preliminaries, I began, and told her the whole story.  

First I told her how much she was concerned in all the unhappy 

breach which had happened between her son and me, by telling 

me her own story and her London name; and that the surprise 

she saw I was in was upon that occasion.   The I told her my 

own story, and my name, and assured her, by such other tokens 

as she could not deny, that I was no other, nor more or less, 

than her own child, her daughter, born of her body in Newgate; 

the same that had saved her from the gallows by being in her 

belly, and the same that she left in such-and-such hands when 

she was transported.



It is impossible to express the astonishment she was in; she 

was not inclined to believe the story, or to remember the 

particulars, for she immediately foresaw the confusion that 

must follow in the family upon it.  But everything concurred 

so exactly with the stories she had told me of herself, and which, 

if she had not told me, she would perhaps have been content 

to have denied, that she had stopped her own mouth, and she 

had nothing to do but to take me about the neck and kiss me, 

and cry most vehemently over me, without speaking one word 

for a long time together.  At last she broke out:  'Unhappy child!' 

says she, 'what miserable chance could bring thee hither? and 

in the arms of my own son, too!  Dreadful girl,' says she, 'why, 

we are all undone!  Married to thy own brother!  Three children, 

and two alive, all of the same flesh and blood!  My son and my 

daughter lying together as husband and wife!  All confusion 

and distraction for ever!  Miserable family! what will become 

of us?  What is to be said?  What is to be done?'  And thus she 

ran on for a great while; nor had I any power to speak, or if 

I had, did I know what to say, for every word wounded me to 

the soul.  With this kind of amazement on our thoughts we 

parted for the first time, though my mother was more surprised 

than I was, because it was more news to her than to me.  

However, she promised again to me at parting, that she would 

say nothing of it to her son, till we had talked of it again.



It was not long, you may be sure, before we had a second 

conference upon the same subject; when, as if she had been 

willing to forget the story she had told me of herself, or to 

suppose that I had forgot some of the particulars, she began 

to tell them with alterations and omissions; but I refreshed her 

memory and set her to rights in many things which I supposed 

she had forgot, and then came in so opportunely with the 

whole history, that it was impossible for her to go from it; and 

then she fell into her rhapsodies again, and exclamations at the 

severity of her misfortunes.  When these things were a little 

over with her, we fell into a close debate about what should 

be first done before we gave an account of the matter to my 

husband.  But to what purpose could be all our consultations?  

We could neither of us see our way through it, nor see how it 

could be safe to open such a scene to him.  It was impossible 

to make any judgment, or give any guess at what temper he 

would receive it in, or what measures he would take upon it; 

and if he should have so little government of himself as to make 

it public, we easily foresaw that it would be the ruin of the 

whole family, and expose my mother and me to the last degree; 

and if at last he should take the advantage the law would give 

him, he might put me away with disdain and leave me to sue 

for the little portion that I had, and perhaps waste it all in the 

suit, and then be a beggar; the children would be ruined too, 

having no legal claim to any of his effects; and thus I should 

see him, perhaps, in the arms of another wife in a few months, 

and be myself the most miserable creature alive.



My mother was as sensible of this as I; and, upon the whole, 

we knew not what to do.  After some time we came to more 

sober resolutions, but then it was with this misfortune too, that 

my mother's opinion and mine were quite different from one 

another, and indeed inconsistent with one another; for my 

mother's opinion was, that I should bury the whole thing 

entirely, and continue to live with him as my husband till some 

other event should make the discovery of it more convenient; 

and that in the meantime she would endeavour to reconcile us 

together again, and restore our mutual comfort and family 

peace; that we might lie as we used to do together, and so let 

the whole matter remain a secret as close as death.  'For, child,' 

says she, 'we are both undone if it comes out.'



To encourage me to this, she promised to make me easy in my 

circumstances, as far as she was able, and to leave me what 

she could at her death, secured for me separately from my 

husband; so that if it should come out afterwards, I should not 

be left destitute, but be able to stand on my own feet and 

procure justice from him.



This proposal did not agree at all with my judgment of the 

thing, though it was very fair and kind in my mother; but my 

thoughts ran quite another way.



As to keeping the thing in our own breasts, and letting it all 

remain as it was, I told her it was impossible; and I asked her 

how she could think I could bear the thoughts of lying with 

my own brother.  In the next place, I told her that her being 

alive was the only support of the discovery, and that while she 

owned me for her child, and saw reason to be satisfied that I 

was so, nobody else would doubt it; but that if she should die 

before the discovery, I should be taken for an impudent creature 

that had forged such a thing to go away from my husband, or 

should be counted crazed and distracted.  Then I told her how 

he had threatened already to put me into a madhouse, and what 

concern I had been in about it, and how that was the thing that 

drove me to the necessity of discovering it to her as I had done.



From all which I told her, that I had, on the most serious 

reflections I was able to make in the case, come to this resolution, 

which I hoped she would like, as a medium between both, viz. 

that she should use her endeavours with her son to give me 

leave to go to England, as I had desired, and to furnish me with 

a sufficient sum of money, either in goods along with me, or 

in bills for my support there, all along suggesting that he might 

one time or other think it proper to come over to me.



That when I was gone, she should then, in cold blood, and 

after first obliging him in the solemnest manner possible to 

secrecy, discover the case to him, doing it gradually, and as 

her own discretion should guide her, so that he might not be 

surprised with it, and fly out into any passions and excesses 

on my account, or on hers; and that she should concern herself 

to prevent his slighting the children, or marrying again, unless 

he had a certain account of my being dead.



This was my scheme, and my reasons were good; I was really 

alienated from him in the consequences of these things; indeed, 

I mortally hated him as a husband, and it was impossible to 

remove that riveted aversion I had to him.  At the same time, 

it being an unlawful, incestuous living, added to that aversion, 

and though I had no great concern about it in point of 

conscience, yet everything added to make cohabiting with him 

the most nauseous thing to me in the world; and I think verily 

it was come to such a height, that I could almost as willingly 

have embraced a dog as have let him offer anything of that 

kind to me, for which reason I could not bear the thoughts of 

coming between the sheets with him.  I cannot say that I was 

right in point of policy in carrying it such a length, while at the 

same time I did not resolve to discover the thing to him; but I 

am giving an account of what was, not of what ought or ought 

not to be.



In their directly opposite opinion to one another my mother 

and I continued a long time, and it was impossible to reconcile 

our judgments; many disputes we had about it, but we could 

never either of us yield our own, or bring over the other.



I insisted on my aversion to lying with my own brother, and 

she insisted upon its being impossible to bring him to consent 

to my going from him to England; and in this uncertainty we 

continued, not differing so as to quarrel, or anything like it, 

but so as not to be able to resolve what we should do to make 

up that terrible breach that was before us.



At last I resolved on a desperate course, and told my mother 

my resolution, viz. that, in short, I would tell him of it myself.  

My mother was frighted to the last degree at the very thoughts 

of it; but I bid her be easy, told her I would do it gradually 

and softly, and with all the art and good-humour I was mistress 

of, and time it also as well as I could, taking him in good-humour 

too.  I told her I did not question but, if I could be hypocrite 

enough to feign more affection to him than I really had, I should 

succeed in all my design, and we might part by consent, and 

with a good agreement, for I might live him well enough for 

a brother, though I could not for a husband.



All this while he lay at my mother to find out, if possible, what 

was the meaning of that dreadful expression of mine, as he 

called it, which I mentioned before:  namely, that I was not his 

lawful wife, nor my children his legal children.  My mother put 

him off, told him she could bring me to no explanations, but 

found there was something that disturbed me very much, and 

she hoped she should get it out of me in time, and in the 

meantime recommended to him earnestly to use me more 

tenderly, and win me with his usual good carriage; told him 

of his  terrifying and affrighting me with his threats of sending 

me to a madhouse, and the like, and advised him not to make 

a woman desperate on any account whatever.



He promised her to soften his behaviour, and bid her assure 

me that he loved me as well as ever, and that he had so such 

design as that of sending me to a madhouse, whatever he might 

say in his passion; also he desired my mother to use the same 

persuasions to me too, that our affections might be renewed, 

and we might lie together in a good understanding as we used 

to do.



I found the effects of this treaty presently.  My husband's 

conduct was immediately altered, and he was quite another 

man to me; nothing could be kinder and more obliging than he 

was to me upon all occasions; and I could do no less than 

make some return to it, which I did as well as I could, but it 

was but in an awkward manner at best, for nothing was more 

frightful to me than his caresses, and the apprehensions of being 

with child again by him was ready to throw me into fits; and 

this made me see that there was an absolute necessity of breaking 

the case to him without any more delay, which, however, I did 

with all the caution and reserve imaginable.



He had continued his altered carriage to me near a month,

and we began to live a new kind of life with one another; and 

could I have satisfied myself to have gone on with it, I believe 

it might have continued as long as we had continued alive 

together.  One evening, as we were sitting and talking very 

friendly together under a little awning, which served as an 

arbour at the entrance from our house into the garden, he was 

in a very pleasant, agreeable humour, and said abundance of 

kind things to me relating to the pleasure of our present good 

agreement, and the disorders of our past breach, and what a 

satisfaction it was to him that we had room to hope we should 

never have any more of it.



I fetched a deep sigh, and told him there was nobody in the 

world could be more delighted than I was in the good agreement 

we had always kept up, or more afflicted with the breach of it, 

and should be so still; but I was sorry to tell him that there was 

an unhappy circumstance in our case, which lay too close to 

my heart, and which I knew not how to break to him, that 

rendered my part of it very miserable, and took from me all the 

comfort of the rest.



He importuned me to tell him what it was.  I told him I could 

not tell how to do it; that while it was concealed from him 

I alone was unhappy, but if he knew it also, we should be both 

so; and that, therefore, to keep him in the dark about it was 

the kindest thing that I could do, and it was on that account 

alone that I kept a secret from him, the very keeping of which, 

I thought, would first or last be my destruction.



It is impossible to express his surprise at this relation, and the 

double importunity which he used with me to discover it to him.  

He told me I could not be called kind to him, nay, I could not 

be faithful to him if I concealed it from him.  I told him I thought 

so too, and yet I could not do it.  He went back to what I had 

said before to him, and told me he hoped it did not relate to 

what I had said in my passion, and that he had resolved to 

forget all that as the effect of a rash, provoked spirit.  I told 

him I wished I could forget it all too, but that it was not to be 

done, the impression was too deep, and I could not do it:  it 

was impossible.



He then told me he was resolved not to differ with me in 

anything, and that therefore he would importune me no more 

about it, resolving to acquiesce in whatever I did or said; only 

begged I should then agree, that whatever it was, it should no 

more interrupt our quiet and our mutual kindness.



This was the most provoking thing he could have said to me, 

for I really wanted his further importunities, that I might be 

prevailed with to bring out that which indeed it was like death 

to me to conceal; so I answered him plainly that I could not 

say I was glad not to be importuned, thought I could not tell 

how to comply.  'But come, my dear,' said I, 'what conditions 

will you make with me upon the opening this affair to you?' 



'Any conditions in the world,' said he, 'that you can in reason 

desire of me.'  'Well,' said I, 'come, give it me under your 

hand, that if you do not find I am in any fault, or that I am 

willingly concerned in the causes of the misfortune that is to 

follow, you will not blame me, use me the worse, do my any 

injury, or make me be the sufferer for that which is not my fault.'



'That,' says he, 'is the most reasonable demand in the world: 

not to blame you for that which is not your fault.  Give me a 

pen and ink,' says he; so I ran in and fetched a pen, ink, and 

paper, and he wrote the condition down in the very words I 

had proposed it, and signed it with his name.  "Well,' says  he, 

'what is next, my dear?'



'Why,' says I, 'the next is, that you will not blame me for not 

discovering the secret of it to you before I knew it.'



'Very just again,' says he; 'with all my heart'; so he wrote 

down that also, and signed it.



'Well, my dear,' says I, 'then I have but one condition more 

to make with you, and that is, that as there is nobody concerned 

in it but you and I, you shall not discover it to any person in 

the world, except your own mother; and that in all the measures 

you shall take upon the discovery, as I am equally concerned 

in it with you, though as innocent as yourself, you shall do 

nothing in a passion, nothing to my prejudice or to your 

mother's prejudice, without my knowledge and consent.'



This a little amazed him, and he wrote down the words distinctly, 

but read them over and over before he signed them, 

hesitating at them several times, and repeating them:  "My 

mother's prejudice! and your prejudice!  What mysterious thing 

can this be?'  However, at last he signed it.



'Well, says I, 'my dear, I'll ask you no more under your hand; 

but as you are to hear the most unexpected and surprising thing 

that perhaps ever befell any family in the world, I beg you to 

promise me you will receive it with composure and a presence 

of mind suitable to a man of sense.' 



'I'll do my utmost,' says he, 'upon condition you will keep me 

no longer in suspense, for you terrify me with all these 

preliminaries.'



"Well, then,' says I, 'it is this:  as I told you before in a heat, 

that I was not your lawful wife, and that our children were not 

legal children, so I must let you know now in calmness and in 

kindness, but with affliction enough, that I am your own sister, 

and you my own brother, and that we are both the children of 

our mother now alive, and in the house, who is convinced of 

the truth of it, in a manner not to be denied or contradicted.' 



I saw him turn pale and look wild; and I said, 'Now remember 

your promise, and receive it with presence of mind; for who 

could have said more to prepare you for it than I have done? 

However, I called a servant, and got him a little glass of rum 

(which is the usual dram of that country), for he was just 

fainting away.  When he was a little recovered, I said to him, 

'This story, you may be sure, requires a long explanation, and 

therefore, have patience and compose your mind to hear it out, 

and I'll make it as short as I can'; and with this, I told him 

what I thought was needful of the fact, and particularly how 

my mother came to discover it to me, as above.  'And now, 

my dear,' says I, 'you will see reason for my capitulations, 

and that I neither have been the cause of this matter, nor could 

be so, and that I could know nothing of it before now.'



'I am fully satisfied of that,' says he, 'but 'tis a dreadful surprise 

to me; however, I know a remedy for it all, and a remedy 

that shall put an end to your difficulties, without your going to 

England.'  'That would be strange,' said I, 'as all the rest.'  

'No, no,' says he, 'I'll make it easy; there's nobody in the way 

of it but myself.'  He looked a little disordered when he said 

this, but I did not apprehend anything from it at that time, 

believing, as it used to be said, that they who do those things 

never talk of them, or that they who talk of such things never 

do them.



But things were not come to their height with him, and I 

observed he became pensive and melancholy; and in a word, 

as I thought, a little distempered in his head.  I endeavoured 

to talk him into temper, and to reason him into a kind of scheme 

for our government in the affair, and sometimes he would be 

well, and talk with some courage about it; but the weight of 

it lay too heavy upon his thoughts, and, in short, it went so far 

that he made attempts upon himself, and in one of them had 

actually strangled himself and had not his mother come into 

the room in the very moment, he had died; but with the help 

of a Negro servant she cut him down and recovered him.



Things were now come to a lamentable height in the family.  

My pity for him now began to revive that affection which at 

first I really had for him, and I endeavoured sincerely, by all 

the kind carriage I could, to make up the breach; but, in short, 

it had gotten too great a head, it preyed upon his spirits, and 

it threw him into a long, lingering consumption, though it 

happened not to be mortal.  In this distress I did not know 

what to do, as his life was apparently declining, and I might 

perhaps have married again there, very much to my advantage; 

it had been certainly my business to have stayed in the country, 

but my mind was restless too, and uneasy; I hankered after 

coming to England, and nothing would satisfy me without it.



In short, by an unwearied importunity, my husband, who was 

apparently decaying, as I observed, was at last prevailed with; 

and so my own fate pushing me on, the way was made clear 

for me, and my mother concurring, I obtained a very good 

cargo for my coming to England.



When I parted with my brother (for such I am now to call 

him), we agreed that after I arrived he should pretend to have 

an account that I was dead in England, and so might marry 

again when he would.  He promised, and engaged to me to 

correspond with me as a sister, and to assist and support me 

as long as I lived; and that if he died before me, he would leave 

sufficient to his mother to take care of me still, in the name of 

asister, and he was in some respects careful of me, when he 

heard of me; but it was so oddly managed that I felt the 

disappointments very sensibly afterwards, as you shall hear in 

its time.



I came away for England in the month of August, after I had 

been eight years in that country; and now a new scene of  

misfortunes attended me, which perhaps few women have 

gone through the life of.



We had an indifferent good voyage till we came just upon the 

coast of England, and where we arrived in two-and-thirty days, 

but were then ruffled with two or three storms, one of which 

drove us away to the coast of Ireland, and we put in at Kinsdale.  

We remained there about thirteen days, got some refreshment 

on shore, and put to sea again, though we met with very bad 

weather again, in which the ship sprung her mainmast, as they 

called it, for I knew not what they meant.  But we got at last 

into Milford Haven, in Wales, where, though it was remote 

from our port, yet having my foot safe upon the firm ground 

of my native country, the isle of Britain, I resolved to venture 

it no more upon the waters, which had been so terrible to me; 

so getting my clothes and money on shore, with my bills of 

loading and other papers, I resolved to come for London, and 

leave the ship to get to her port as she could; the port whither 

she was bound was to Bristol, where my brother's chief 

correspondent lived.



I got to London in about three weeks, where I heard a little 

while after that the ship was arrived in Bristol, but at the same 

time had the misfortune to know that by the violent weather 

she had been in, and the breaking of her mainmast, she had 

great damage on board, and that a great part of her cargo was 

spoiled.



I had now a new scene of life upon my hands, and a dreadful 

appearance it had.  I was come away with a kind of final 

farewell.  What I brought with me was indeed considerable, 

had it come safe, and by the help of it, I might have married 

again tolerably well; but as it was, I was reduced to between 

two or three hundred pounds in the whole, and this without 

any hope of recruit.  I was entirely without friends, nay, even 

so much as without acquaintance, for I found it was absolutely 

necessary not to revive former acquaintances; and as for my 

subtle friend that set me up formerly for a fortune, she was 

dead, and her husband also; as I was informed, upon sending 

a person unknown to inquire.



The looking after my cargo of goods soon after obliged me to 

take a journey to Bristol, and during my attendance upon that 

affair I took the diversion of going to the Bath, for as I was 

still far from being old, so my humour, which was always gay, 

continued so to an extreme; and being now, as it were, a 

woman of fortune though I was a woman without a fortune, 

I expected something or other might happen in my way that 

might mend my circumstances, as had been my case before.



The Bath is a place of gallantry enough; expensive, and full 

of snares.  I went thither, indeed, in the view of taking anything 

that might offer, but I must do myself justice, as to protest I 

knew nothing amiss; I meant nothing but in an honest way, nor 

had I any thoughts about me at first that looked the way which 

afterwards I suffered them to be guided.



Here I stayed the whole latter season, as it is called there, 

and contracted some unhappy acquaintances, which rather 

prompted the follies I fell afterwards into than fortified me 

against them.  I lived pleasantly enough, kept good company, 

that is to say, gay, fine company; but had the discouragement 

to find this way of living sunk me exceedingly, and that as I 

had no settled income, so spending upon the main stock was 

but a certain kind of bleeding to death; and this gave me many 

sad reflections in the interval of my other thoughts.  However, 

I shook them off, and still flattered myself that something or 

other might offer for my advantage.



But I was in the wrong place for it.  I was not now at Redriff, 

where, if I had set myself tolerably up, some honest sea captain 

or other might have talked with me upon the honourable terms 

of matrimony; but I was at the Bath, where men find a mistress 

sometimes, but very rarely look for a wife; and consequently 

all the particular acquaintances a woman can expect to make 

there must have some tendency that way.



I had spent the first season well enough; for though I had 

contracted some acquaintance with a gentleman who came to 

the Bath for his diversion, yet I had entered into no felonious 

treaty, as it might be called.  I had resisted some casual offers 

of gallantry, and had managed that way well enough.  I was 

not wicked enough to come into the crime for the mere vice 

of it, and I had no extraordinary offers made me that tempted 

me with the main thing which I wanted.



However, I went this length the first season, viz. I contracted 

an acquaintance with a woman in whose house I lodged, who, 

though she did not keep an ill house, as we call it, yet had none 

of the best principles in herself.  I had on all occasions behaved 

myself so well as not to get the least slur upon my reputation 

on any account whatever, and all the men that I had conversed 

with were of so good reputation that I had not given the least 

reflection by conversing with them; nor did any of them seem 

to think there was room for a wicked correspondence, if they 

had any of them offered it; yet there was one gentleman, as 

above, who always singled me out for the diversion of my 

company, as he called it, which, as he was pleased to say, was 

very agreeable to him, but at that time there was no more in it.



I had many melancholy hours at the Bath after the company 

was gone; for though I went to Bristol sometime for the 

disposing my effects, and for recruits of money, yet I chose to 

come back to Bath for my residence, because being on good 

terms with the woman in whose house I lodged in the summer, 

I found that during the winter I lived rather cheaper there than 

I could do anywhere else.  Here, I say, I passed the winter as 

heavily as I had passed the autumn cheerfully; but having 

contracted a nearer intimacy with the said woman in whose 

house I lodged, I could not avoid communicating to her 

something of what lay hardest upon my mind and particularly 

the narrowness of my circumstances, and the loss of my fortune 

by the damage of my goods at sea.  I told her also, that I had 

a mother and a brother in Virginia in good circumstances; and 

as I had really written back to my mother in particular to 

represent my condition, and the great loss I had received, 

which indeed came to almost #500, so I did not fail to let my 

new friend know that I expected a supply from thence, and so 

indeed I did; and as the ships went from Bristol to York River, 

in Virginia, and back again generally in less time from London, 

and that my brother corresponded chiefly at Bristol, I thought 

it was much better for me to wait here for my returns than to 

go to London, where also I had not the least acquaintance.



My new friend appeared sensibly affected with my condition, 

and indeed was so very kind as to reduce the rate of my living 

with her to so low a price during the winter, that she convinced 

me she got nothing by me; and as for lodging, during the winter 

I paid nothing at all.



When the spring season came on, she continued to be as king 

to me as she could, and I lodged with her for a time, till it was 

found necessary to do otherwise.  She had some persons of 

character that frequently lodged in her house, and in particular 

the gentleman who, as I said, singled me out for his companion 

the winter before; and he came down again with another 

gentleman in his company and two servants, and lodged in the 

same house.  I suspected that my landlady had invited him 

thither, letting him know that I was still with her; but she denied 

it, and protested to me that she did not, and he said the same.



In a word, this gentleman came down and continued to single 

me out for his peculiar confidence as well as conversation.  

He was a complete gentleman, that must be confessed, and 

his company was very agreeable to me, as mine, if I might 

believe him, was to him.  He made no professions to be but 

of an extraordinary respect, and he had such an opinion of my 

virtue, that, as he often professed, he believed if he should offer 

anything else, I should reject him with contempt.  He soon 

understood from me that I was a widow; that I had arrived at 

Bristol from Virginia by the last ships; and that I waited at Bath 

till the next Virginia fleet should arrive, by which I expected 

considerable effects.  I understood by him, and by others of 

him, that he had a wife, but that the lady was distempered in 

her head, and was under the conduct of her own relations, 

which he consented to, to avoid any reflections that might (as 

was not unusual in such cases) be cast on him for mismanaging 

her cure; and in the meantime he came to the Bath to divert his 

thoughts from the disturbance of such a melancholy circumstance 

as that was.



My landlady, who of her own accord encouraged the 

correspondence on all occasions, gave me an advantageous 

 character of him, as a man of honour and of virtue, as well 

as of great estate.  And indeed I had a great deal of reason to 

say so of him too; for though we lodged both on a floor, and 

he had frequently come into my chamber, even when I was in 

bed, and I also into his when he was in bed, yet he never offered 

anything to me further than a kiss, or so much as solicited me 

to anything till long after, as you shall hear.



I frequently took notice to my landlady of his exceeding 

modesty, and she again used to tell me, she believed it was so 

from the beginning; however, she used to tell me that she 

thought I ought to expect some gratification from him for my 

company, for indeed he did, as it were, engross me, and I was 

seldom from him.  I told her I had not given him the least 

occasion to think I wanted it, or that I would accept of it from 

him.  She told me she would take that part upon her, and she 

did so, and managed it so dexterously, that the first time we 

were together alone, after she had talked with him, he began 

to inquire a little into my circumstances, as how I had subsisted 

myself since I came on shore, and whether I did not want money.  

I stood off very boldly.  I told him that though my cargo of 

tobacco was damaged, yet that it was not quite lost; that the 

merchant I had been consigned to had so honestly managed 

for me that I had not wanted, and that I hoped, with frugal 

management, I should make it hold out till more would come, 

which I expected by the next fleet; that in the meantime I had 

retrenched my expenses, and whereas I kept a maid last season, 

now I lived without; and whereas I had a chamber and a 

dining-room then on the first floor, as he knew, I now had but 

one room, two pair of stairs, and the like.  'But I live,' said I, 

'as well satisfied now as I did then'; adding, that his company 

had been a means to make me live much more cheerfully than 

otherwise I should have done, for which I was much obliged 

to him; and so I put off all room for any offer for the present.  

However, it was not long before he attacked me again, and 

told me he found that I was backward to trust him with the 

secret of my circumstances, which he was sorry for; assuring 

me that he inquired into it with no design to satisfy his own 

curiosity, but merely to assist me, if there was any occasion; 

but since I would not own myself to stand in need of any 

assistance, he had but one thing more to desire of me, and that 

was, that I would promise him that when I was any way straitened, 

or like to be so, I would frankly tell him of it, and that I would 

make use of him with the same freedom that he made the offer; 

adding, that I should always find I had a true friend, though 

perhaps I was afraid to trust him. 



I omitted nothing that was fit to be said by one infinitely 

obliged, to let him know that I had a due sense of his kindness; 

and indeed from that time I did not appear so much reserved 

to him as I had done before, though still within the bounds of 

the strictest virtue on both sides; but how free soever our 

conversation was, I could not arrive to that sort of freedom 

which he desired, viz. to tell him I wanted money, though I 

was secretly very glad of his offer.



Some weeks passed after this, and still I never asked him for 

money; when my landlady, a cunning creature, who had often 

pressed me to it, but found that I could not do it, makes a 

story of her own inventing, and comes in bluntly to me when 

we were together.  'Oh, widow!' says she, 'I have bad news 

to tell you this morning.'  'What is that?' said I; 'are the 

Virginia ships taken by the French?'--for that was my fear.  

'No, no,' says she, 'but the man you sent to Bristol yesterday 

for money is come back, and says he has brought none.'



Now I could by no means like her project; I though it looked 

too much like prompting him, which indeed he did not want, 

and I clearly that I should lose nothing by being backward to 

ask, so I took her up short.  'I can't image why he should say 

so to you,' said I, 'for I assure you he brought me all the 

money I sent him for, and here it is,' said I (pulling out my 

purse with about twelve guineas in it); and added, 'I intend 

you shall have most of it by and by.'



He seemed distasted a little at her talking as she did at first, 

as well as I, taking it, as I fancied he would, as something 

forward of her; but when he saw me give such an answer, he 

came immediately to himself again.  The next morning we 

talked of it again, when I found he was fully satisfied, and, 

smiling, said he hoped I would not want money and not tell 

him of it, and that I had promised him otherwise.  I told him 

I had been very much dissatisfied at my landlady's talking so 

publicly the day before of  what she had nothing to do with; 

but I supposed she wanted what I owed her, which was about 

eight guineas, which I had resolved to give her, and had 

accordingly given it her the same night she talked so foolishly.



He was in a might good humour when he heard me say I had 

paid her, and it went off into some other discourse at that time.  

But the next morning, he having heard me up about my room 

before him, he called to me, and I answering, he asked me to 

come into his chamber.  He was in bed when I came in, and 

he made me come and sit down on his bedside, for he said he 

had something to say to me which was of some moment.  

After some very kind expressions, he asked me if I would be 

very honest to him, and give a sincere answer to one thing he 

would desire of me.  After some little cavil at the word 'sincere,' 

and asking him if I had ever given him any answers which were 

not sincere, I promised him I would.  Why, then, his request 

was, he said, to let him see my purse.  I immediately put my 

hand into my pocket, and, laughing to him, pulled it out, and 

there was in it three guineas and a half.  Then he asked me if 

there was all the money I had.  I told him No, laughing again, 

not by a great deal.



Well, then, he said, he would have me promise to go and 

fetch him all the money I had, every farthing.  I told him I 

would, and I went into my chamber and fetched him a little 

private drawer, where I had about six guineas more, and some 

silver, and threw it all down upon the bed, and told him there 

was all my wealth, honestly to a shilling.  He looked a little 

at it, but did not tell it, and huddled it all into the drawer again, 

and then reaching his pocket, pulled out a key, and bade me 

open a little walnut-tree box he had upon the table, and bring 

him such a drawer, which I did.  In which drawer there was a 

great deal of money in gold, I believe near two hundred guineas, 

but I knew not how much.  He took the drawer, and taking my 

hand, made me put it in and take a whole handful.  I was 

backward at that, but he held my hand hard in his hand, and 

put it into the drawer, and made me take out as many guineas 

almost as I could well take up at once.



When I had done so, he made me put them into my lap, 

and took my little drawer, and poured out all my money among 

his, and bade me get me gone, and carry it all home into my 

own chamber.



I relate this story the more particularly because of the 

good-humour there was in it, and to show the temper with 

which we conversed.  It was not long after this but he began 

every day to find fault with my clothes, with my laces and 

headdresses, and, in a word, pressed me to buy better; which, 

by the way, I was willing enough to do, though I did not seem 

to be so, for I loved nothing in the world better than fine clothes.  

I told him I must housewife the money he had lent me, or else 

I should not be able to pay him again.  He then told me, in a 

few words, that as he had a sincere respect for me, and knew 

my circumstances, he had not lent me that money, but given 

it me, and that he thought I had merited it from him by giving 

him my company so entirely as I had done.  After this he made 

me take a maid, and keep house, and his friend that come with 

him to Bath being gone, he obliged me to diet him, which I did 

very willingly, believing, as it appeared, that I should lose 

nothing by it, not did the woman of the house fail to find her 

account in it too.



We had lived thus near three months, when the company 

beginning to wear away at the Bath, he talked of going away, 

and fain he would have me to go to London with him.  I was 

not very easy in that proposal, not knowing what posture I 

was to live in there, or how he might use me.  But while this 

was in debate he fell very sick; he had gone out to a place in  

Somersetshire, called Shepton, where he had some business 

and was there taken very ill, and so ill that he could not travel; 

so he sent his man back to Bath, to beg me that I would hire 

a coach and come over to him.  Before he went, he had left 

all his money and other things of value with me, and what to 

do with them I did not know, but I secured them as well as I 

could, and locked up the lodgings and went to him, where I 

found him very ill indeed; however, I persuaded him to be 

carried in a litter to the Bath, where there was more help and 

better advice to be had.



He consented, and I brought him to the Bath, which was about 

fifteen miles, as I remember.  Here he continued very ill of a 

fever, and kept his bed five weeks, all which time I nursed him 

and tended him myself, as much and as carefully as if I had 

been his wife; indeed, if I had been his wife I could not have 

done more.  I sat up with him so much and so often, that at 

last, indeed, he would not let me sit up any longer, and then I 

got a pallet-bed into his room, and lay in it just at his bed's 

feet.



I was indeed sensibly affected with his condition, and with the 

apprehension of losing such a friend as he was, and was like to 

be to me, and I used to sit and cry by him many hours together.  

However, at last he grew better, and gave hopes that he would 

recover, as indeed he did, though very slowly.



Were it otherwise than what I am going to say, I should not 

be backward to disclose it, as it is apparent I have done in 

other cases in this account; but I affirm, that through all this 

conversation, abating the freedom of coming into the chamber 

when I or he was in bed, and abating the necessary offices of 

attending him night and day when he was sick, there had not 

passed the least immodest word or action between us.  Oh 

that it had been so to the last!



After some time he gathered strength and grew well apace, 

and I would have removed my pallet-bed, but he would not 

let me, till he was able to venture himself without anybody to 

sit up with him, and then I removed to my own chamber.



He took many occasions to express his sense of my tenderness 

and concern for him; and when he grew quite well, he made me 

a present of fifty guineas for my care and, as he called it, for 

hazarding my life to save his.



And now he made deep protestations of a sincere inviolable 

affection for me, but all along attested it to be with the utmost 

reserve for my virtue and his own.  I told him I was fully 

satisfied of it.  He carried it that length that he protested to me, 

that if he was naked in bed with me, he would as sacredly 

preserve my virtue as he would defend if if I was assaulted by 

a ravisher.  I believed him, and told him I did so; but this did 

not satisfy him, he would, he said, wait for some opportunity 

to give me an undoubted testimony of it.



It was a great while after this that I had occasion, on my own 

business, to go to Bristol, upon which he hired me a coach, 

and would go with me, and did so; and now indeed our intimacy 

increased.  From Bristol he carried me to Gloucester, which 

was merely a journey of pleasure, to take the air; and here it 

was our hap to have no lodging in the inn but in one large 

chamber with two beds in it.  The master of the house going 

up with us to show his rooms, and coming into that room, 

said very frankly to him, 'Sir, it is none of my business to inquire 

whether the lady be your spouse or no, but if not, you may lie 

as honestly in these two beds as if you were in two chambers,' 

and with that he pulls a great curtain which drew quite across 

the room and effectually divided the beds.  'Well,' says my 

friend, very readily, 'these beds will do, and as for the rest, we 

are too near akin to lie together, though we may lodge near 

one another'; and this put an honest face on the thing too.  

When we came to go to bed, he decently went out of the room 

till I was in bed, and then went to bed in the bed on his own 

side of the room, but lay there talking to me a great while.



At last, repeating his usual saying, that he could lie naked in 

the bed with me and not offer me the least injury, he starts out 

of his bed.  'And now, my dear,' says he, 'you shall see how 

just I will be to you, and that I can keep my word,' and away 

he comes to my bed.



I resisted a little, but I must confess I should not have resisted 

him much if he had not made those promises at all; so after a 

little struggle, as I said, I lay still and let him come to bed.  

When he was there he took me in his arms, and so I lay all 

night with him, but he had no more to do with me, or offered 

anything to me, other than embracing me, as I say, in his arms, 

no, not the whole night, but rose up and dressed him in the 

morning, and left me as innocent for him as I was the day I 

was born.



This was a surprising thing to me, and perhaps may be so to 

others, who know how the laws of nature work; for he was a 

strong, vigorous, brisk person; nor did he act thus on a principle 

of religion at all, but of mere affection; insisting on it, that 

though I was to him to most agreeable woman in the world, 

yet, because he loved me, he could not injure me.



I own it was a noble principle, but as it was what I never 

understood before, so it was to me perfectly amazing.  We 

traveled the rest of the journey as we did before, and came 

back to the Bath, where, as he had opportunity to come to 

me when he would, he often repeated the moderation, and I 

frequently lay with him, and he with me, and although all the 

familiarities between man and wife were common to us, yet 

he never once offered to go any farther, and he valued himself 

much upon it.  I do not say that I was so wholly pleased with 

it as he thought I was, for I own much wickeder than he, as 

you shall hear presently.



We lived thus near two years, only with this exception, that 

he went three times to London in that time, and once he 

continued there four months; but, to do him justice, he always 

supplied me with money to subsist me very handsomely.



Had we continued thus, I confess we had had much to boast 

of; but as wise men say, it is ill venturing too near the brink of 

a command, so we found it; and here again I must do him the 

justice to own that the first breach was not on his part.  It was 

one night that we were in bed together warm and merry, and 

having drunk, I think, a little more wine that night, both of us, 

than usual, although not in the least to disorder either of us, 

when, after some other follies which I cannot name, and being 

clasped close in his arms, I told him (I repeat it with shame 

and horror of soul) that I could find in my heart to discharge 

him of his engagement for one night and no more.



He took me at my word immediately, and after that there was 

no resisting him; neither indeed had I any mind to resist him 

any more, let what would come of it.



Thus the government of our virtue was broken, and I 

exchanged the place of friend for that unmusical, harsh-sounding 

title of whore.  In the morning we were both at our penitentials; 

I cried very heartily, he expressed himself very sorry; but that 

was all either of us could do at that time, and the way being 

thus cleared, and the bars of virtue and conscience thus removed, 

we had the less difficult afterwards to struggle with.



It was but a dull kind of conversation that we had together 

for all the rest of that week; I looked on him with blushes, and 

every now and then started that melancholy objection, 'What 

if I should be with child now?  What will become of me then?'  

He encouraged me by telling me, that as long as I was true to 

him, he would be so to me; and since it was gone such a length 

(which indeed he never intended), yet if I was with child, he 

would take care of that, and of me too.  This hardened us both.  

I assured him if I was with child, I would die for want of a 

midwife rather than name him as the father of it; and he assured 

me I should never want if I should be with child.  These mutual 

assurances hardened us in the thing, and after this we repeated 

the crime as often as we pleased, till at length, as I had feared,

so it came to pass, and I was indeed with child.



After I was sure it was so, and I had satisfied him of it too,

we began to think of taking measures for the managing it, and 

I proposed trusting the secret to my landlady, and asking her 

advice, which he agreed to.  My landlady, a woman (as I found) 

used to such things, made light of it; she said she knew it would 

come to that at last, and made us very merry about it.  As I said 

above, we found her an experienced old lady at such work; she 

undertook everything, engaged to procure a midwife and a nurse, 

to satisfy all inquiries, and bring us off with reputation, and she 

did so very dexterously indeed.



When I grew near my time she desired my gentleman to go 

away to London, or make as if he did so.  When he was gone, 

she acquainted the parish officers that there was a lady ready 

to lie in at her house, but that she knew her husband very well, 

and gave them, as she pretended, an account of his name, which 

she called Sir Walter Cleve; telling them he was a very worthy 

gentleman, and that she would answer for all inquiries, and the 

like.  This satisfied the parish officers presently, and I lay in 

with as much credit as I could have done if I had really been 

my Lady Cleve, and was assisted in my travail by three or four 

of the best citizens' wives of Bath who lived in the neighbourhood, 

which, however, made me a little the more expensive to him.  

I often expressed my concern to him about it, but he bid me not 

be concerned at it.



As he had furnished me very sufficiently with money for the 

extraordinary expenses of my lying in, I had everything very 

handsome about me, but did not affect to be gay or extravagant 

neither; besides, knowing my own circumstances, and knowing 

the world as I had done, and that such kind of things do not 

often last long, I took care to lay up as much money as I could 

for a wet day, as I called it; making him believe it was all spent 

upon the extraordinary appearance of things in my lying in.



By this means, and including what he had given me as above, 

I had at the end of my lying in about two hundred guineas by 

me, including also what was left of my own.



I was brought to bed of a fine boy indeed, and a charming 

child it was; and when he heard of it he wrote me a very kind, 

obliging letter about it, and then told me, he thought it would 

look better for me to come away for London as soon as I was 

up and well; that he had provided apartments for me at 

Hammersmith, as if I came thither only from London; and that 

after a little while I should go back to the Bath, and he would 

go with me.



I liked this offer very well, and accordingly hired a coach on 

purpose, and taking my child, and a wet-nurse to tend and 

suckle it, and a maid-servant with me, away I went for London.



He met me at Reading in his own chariot, and taking me into 

that, left the servant and the child in the hired coach, and so 

he brought me to my new lodgings at Hammersmith; with 

which I had abundance of reason to be very well pleased, for 

they were very handsome rooms, and I was very well 

accommodated.



And now I was indeed in the height of what I might call my 

prosperity, and I wanted nothing but to be a wife, which, 

however, could not be in this case, there was no room for it; 

and therefore on all occasions I studied to save what I could, 

as I have said above, against a time of scarcity, knowing well 

enough that such things as these do not always continue; that 

men that keep mistresses often change them, grow weary of 

them, or jealous of them, or something or other happens to 

make them withdraw their bounty; and sometimes the ladies 

that are thus well used are not careful by a prudent conduct 

to preserve the esteem of their persons, or the nice article of 

their fidelity, and then they are justly cast off with contempt.



But I was secured in this point, for as I had no inclination 

to change, so I had no manner of acquaintance in the whole 

house, and so no temptation to look any farther.  I kept no 

company but in the family when I lodged, and with the 

clergyman's lady at next door; so that when he was absent I 

visited nobody, nor did he every find me out of my chamber 

or parlour whenever he came down; if I went anywhere to 

take the air, it was always with him.



The living in this manner with him, and his with me, was 

certainly the most undesigned thing in the world; he often 

protested to me, that when he became first acquainted with 

me, and even to the very night when we first broke in upon 

our rules, he never had the least design of lying with me; that 

he always had a sincere affection for me, but not the least real 

inclination to do what he had done.  I assured him I never 

suspected him; that if I had I should not so easily have yielded 

to the freedom which brought it on, but that it was all a surprise, 

and was owing to the accident of our having yielded too far to 

our mutual inclinations that night; and indeed I have often 

observed since, and leave it as a caution to the readers of this 

story, that we ought to be cautious of gratifying our inclinations 

in loose and lewd freedoms, lest we find our resolutions of 

virtue fail us in the junction when their assistance should be 

most necessary.



It is true, and I have confessed it before, that from the first 

hour I began to converse with him, I resolved to let him lie 

with me, if he offered it; but it was because I wanted his help 

and assistance, and I knew no other way of securing him than 

that.  But when were that night together, and, as I have said, 

had gone such a length, I found my weakness; the inclination 

was not to be resisted, but I was obliged to yield up all even 

before he asked it.



However, he was so just to me that he never upbraided me 

with that; nor did he ever express the least dislike of my 

conduct on any other occasion, but always protested he was 

as much delighted with my company as he was the first hour 

we came together:  I mean, came together as bedfellows.



It is true that he had no wife, that is to say, she was as no 

wife to him, and so I was in no danger that way, but the just 

reflections of conscience oftentimes snatch a man, especially 

a man of sense, from the arms of a mistress, as it did him at 

last, though on another occasion.



On the other hand, though I was not without secret reproaches 

of my own conscience for the life I led, and that even in the 

greatest height of the satisfaction I ever took, yet I  had the 

terrible prospect of poverty and starving, which lay on me as 

a frightful spectre, so that there was no looking behind me.  

But as poverty brought me into it, so fear of poverty kept me 

in it, and I frequently resolved to leave it quite off, if I could 

but come to lay up money enough to maintain me.  But these 

were thoughts of no weight, and whenever he came to me they 

vanished; for his company was so delightful, that there was no 

being melancholy when he was there; the reflections were all 

the subject of those hours when I was alone. 



I lived six years in this happy but unhappy condition, in which 

time I brought him three children, but only the first of them 

lived; and though I removed twice in those six years, yet I came

 back the sixth year to my first lodgings at Hammersmith.  

Here it was that I was one morning surprised with a kind but 

melancholy letter from my gentleman, intimating that he was 

very ill, and was afraid he should have another fit of sickness, 

but that his wife's relations being in the house with him, it 

would not be practicable to have me with him, which, however, 

he expressed his great dissatisfaction in, and that he wished I 

could be allowed to tend and nurse him as I did before.



I was very much concerned at this account, and was very 

impatient to know how it was with him.  I waited a fortnight 

or thereabouts, and heard nothing, which surprised me, and I 

began to be very uneasy indeed.  I think, I may say, that for 

the next fortnight I was near to distracted.  It was my particular 

difficulty that I did not know directly when he was; for I 

understood at first he was in the lodgings of his wife's mother; 

but having removed myself to London, I soon found, by the 

help of the direction I had for writing my letters to him, how 

to inquire after him, and there I found that he was at a house 

in Bloomsbury, whither he had, a little before he fell sick, 

removed his whole family; and that his wife and wife's mother 

were in the same house, though the wife was not suffered to 

know that she was in the same house with her husband.



Here I also soon understood that he was at the last extremity, 

which made me almost at the last extremity too, to have a true 

account.  One night I had the curiosity to disguise myself like 

a servant-maid, in a round cap and straw hat, and went to the 

door, as sent by a lady of his neighbourhood, where he lived 

before, and giving master and mistress's service, I said I was 

sent to know how Mr. ---- did, and how he had rested that night.  

In delivering this message I got the opportunity I desired; for, 

speaking with one of the maids, I held a long gossip's tale with 

her, and had all the particulars of his illness, which I found was 

a pleurisy, attended with a cough and a fever.  She told me also 

who was in the house, and how his wife was, who, by her 

relation, they were in some hopes might recover her understanding; 

but as to the gentleman himself, in short she told me the doctors 

said there was very little hopes of him, that in the morning 

they thought he had been dying, and that he was but little better 

then, for they did not expect that he could live over the next 

night.



This was heavy news for me, and I began now to see an end 

of my prosperity, and to see also that it was very well I had 

played to good housewife, and secured or saved something 

while he was alive, for that now I had no view of my own 

living before me.



It lay very heavy upon my mind, too, that I had a son, a fine 

lovely boy, about five years old, and no provision made for it, 

at least that I knew of.  With these considerations, and a sad 

heart, I went home that evening, and began to cast with myself 

how I should live, and in what manner to bestow myself, for 

the residue of my life.



You may be sure I could not rest without inquiring again very 

quickly what was become of him; and not venturing to go 

myself, I sent several sham messengers, till after a fortnight's 

waiting longer, I found that there was hopes of his life, though 

he was still very ill; then I abated my sending any more to the 

house, and in some time after I learned in the neighbourhood 

that he was about house, and then that he was abroad again.



I made no doubt then but that I should soon hear of him, 

and began to comfort myself with my circumstances being, as 

I thought, recovered. I waited a week, and two weeks, and 

with much surprise and amazement I waited near two months 

and heard nothing, but that, being recovered, he was gone into 

the country for the air, and for the better recovery after his 

distemper.  After this it was yet two months more, and then I 

understood he was come to his city house again, but still I 

heard nothing from him.



I had written several letters for him, and directed them as 

usual, and found two or three of them had been called for, but 

not the rest.  I wrote again in a more pressing manner than 

ever, and in one of them let him know, that I must be forced 

to wait on him myself, representing my circumstances, the rent 

of lodgings to pay, and the provision for the child wanting, and 

my own deplorable condition, destitute of subsistence for his 

most solemn engagement to take care of and provide for me.  

I took a copy of this letter, and finding it lay at the house near 

a month and was not called for, I found means to have the copy 

of it put into his own hands at a coffee-house, where I had by 

inquiry found he used to go.



This letter forced an answer from him, by which, though I 

found I was to be abandoned, yet I found he had sent a letter 

to me some time before, desiring me to go down to the Bath 

again.  Its contents I shall come to presently.



It is true that sick-beds are the time when such correspondences 

as this are looked on with different countenances, and seen 

with other eyes than we saw them with, or than they appeared 

with before.  My lover had been at the gates of death, and at 

the very brink of eternity; and, it seems, had been struck with 

a due remorse, and with sad reflections upon his past life of 

gallantry and levity; and among the rest, criminal correspondence 

with me, which was neither more nor less than a long-continued 

life of adultery, and represented itself as it really was, not as 

it had been formerly thought by him to be, and he looked upon 

it now with a just and religious abhorrence.



I cannot but observe also, and leave it for the direction of my 

sex in such cases of pleasure, that whenever sincere repentance 

succeeds such a crime as this, there never fails to attend a 

hatred of the object; and the more the affection might seem to 

be before, the hatred will be the more in proportion.  It will 

always be so, indeed it can be no otherwise; for there cannot 

be a true and sincere abhorrence of the offence, and the love 

to the cause of it remain; there will, with an abhorrence of the 

sin, be found a detestation of the fellow-sinner; you can expect 

no other.



I found it so here, though good manners and justice in this 

gentleman kept him from carrying it on to any extreme but the 

short history of his part in this affair was thus:  he perceived 

by my last letter, and by all the rest, which he went for after, 

that I was not gone to Bath, that his first letter had not come 

to my hand; upon which he write me this following:--





'MADAM,--I am surprised that my letter, dated the 8th of last 

month, did not come to your hand; I give you my word it was 

delivered at your lodgings, and to the hands of your maid.



'I need not acquaint you with what has been my condition 

for some time past; and how, having been at the edge of the 

grave, I am, by the unexpected and undeserved mercy of 

Heaven, restored again.  In the condition I have been in, it 

cannot be strange to you that our unhappy correspondence 

had not been the least of the burthens which lay upon my 

conscience.  I need say no more; those things that must be 

repented of, must be also reformed.



I wish you would thing of going back to the Bath.  I enclose 

you here a bill for #50 for clearing yourself at your lodgings, 

and carrying you down, and hope it will be no surprise to you 

to add, that on this account only, and not for any offence given 

me on your side, I can see you no more.  I will take due care 

of the child; leave him where he is, or take him with you, as 

you please.  I wish you the like reflections, and that they may 

be to your advantage.--I am,' etc.





I was struck with this letter as with a thousand wounds, such 

as I cannot describe; the reproaches of my own conscience were 

such as I cannot express, for I was not blind to my own crime; 

and I reflected that I might with less offence have continued 

with my brother, and lived with him as a wife, since there was

 no crime in our marriage on that score, neither of us knowing it.



But I never once reflected that I was all this while a married 

woman, a wife to Mr. ---- the linen-draper, who, though he 

had left me by the necessity of his circumstances, had no power 

to discharge me from the marriage contract which was between 

us, or to give me a legal liberty to marry again; so that I had 

been no less than a whore and an adulteress all this while.  I 

then reproached myself with the liberties I had taken, and how 

I had been a snare to this gentleman, and that indeed I was 

principal in the crime; that now he was mercifully snatched out 

of the gulf by a convincing work upon his mind, but that I was 

left as if I was forsaken of God's grace, and abandoned by 

Heaven to a continuing in my wickedness.



Under these reflections I continued very pensive and sad for 

near month, and did not go down to the Bath, having no 

inclination to be with the woman whom I was with before; 

lest, as I thought, she should prompt me to some wicked 

course of life again, as she had done; and besides, I was very 

loth she should know I was cast off as above.



And now I was greatly perplexed about my little boy.  It was 

death to me to part with the child, and yet when I considered 

the danger of being one time or other left with him to keep 

without a maintenance to support him, I then resolved to leave 

him where he was; but then I concluded also to be near him 

myself too, that I then might have the satisfaction of seeing 

him, without the care of providing for him.



I sent my gentleman a short letter, therefore, that I had obeyed 

his orders in all things but that of going back to the Bath, 

which I could not think of for many reasons; that however 

parting from him was a wound to me that I could never recover, 

yet that I was fully satisfied his reflections were just, and would 

be very far from desiring to obstruct his reformation or repentance.



Then I represented my own circumstances to him in the most 

moving terms that I was able.  I told him that those unhappy 

distresses which first moved him to a generous and an honest 

friendship for me, would, I hope, move him to a little concern 

for me now, though the criminal part of our correspondence, 

which I believed neither of us intended to fall into at the time, 

was broken off; that I desired to repent as sincerely as he had 

done, but entreated him to put me in some condition that I 

might not be exposed to the temptations which the devil never 

fails to excite us to from the frightful prospect of poverty and 

distress; and if he had the least apprehensions of my being 

troublesome to him, I begged he would put me in a posture 

to go back to my mother in Virginia, from when he knew I 

came, and that would put an end to all his fears on that account.  

I concluded, that if he would send me #50 more to facilitate 

my going away, I would send him back a general release, and 

would promise never to disturb him more with any importunities; 

unless it was to hear of the well-doing of the child, whom, if 

I found my mother living and my circumstances able, I would 

send for to come over to me, and take him also effectually off 

his hands.



This was indeed all a cheat thus far, viz. that I had no intention 

to go to Virginia, a the account of my former affairs there may 

convince anybody of; but the business was to get this last #50 

of him, if possible, knowing well enough it would be the last 

penny I was ever to expect.



However, the argument I used, namely, of giving him a general 

release, and never troubling him any more, prevailed effectually 

with him, and he sent me a bill for the money by a person who 

brought with him a general release for me to sign, and which 

I frankly signed, and received the money; and thus, though full 

sore against my will, a final end was put to this affair.



And here I cannot but reflect upon the unhappy consequence 

of too great freedoms between persons stated as we were, 

upon the pretence of innocent intentions, love of friendship, 

and the like; for the flesh has generally so great a share in those 

friendships, that is great odds but inclination prevails at last 

over the most solemn resolutions; and that vice breaks in at 

the breaches of decency, which really innocent friendship ought 

to preserve with the greatest strictness.  But I leave the readers 

of these things to their own just reflections, which they will be 

more able to make effectual than I, who so soon forgot myself, 

and am therefore but a very indifferent monitor.



I was now a single person again, as I may call myself; I was 

loosed from all the obligations either of wedlock or mistress-ship 

in the world, except my husband the linen-draper, whom, I having 

not now heard from in almost fifteen years, nobody could 

blame me for thinking myself entirely freed from; seeing also he 

had at his going away told me, that if I did not hear frequently 

from him, I should conclude he was dead, and I might freely 

marry again to whom I pleased.



I now began to cast up my accounts.  I had by many letters 

and much importunity, and with the intercession of my mother 

too, had a second return of some goods from my brother (as I 

now call him) in Virginia, to make up the damage of the cargo 

I brought away with me, and this too was upon the condition 

of my sealing a general release to him, and to send it him by 

his correspondent at Bristol, which, though I thought hard of, 

yet I was obliged to promise to do.  However, I managed so 

well in this case, that I got my goods away before the release 

was signed, and then I always found something or other to say 

to evade the thing, and to put off the signing it at all; till at 

length I pretended I must write to my brother, and have his 

answer, before I could do it.



Including this recruit, and before I got the last #50, I found 

my strength to amount, put all together, to about #400, so 

that with that I had about #450.  I had saved above #100 more, 

but I met with a disaster with that, which was this--that a 

goldsmith in whose hands I had trusted it, broke, so I lost #70

of my money, the man's composition not making above #30 

out of his #100.  I had a little plate, but not much, and was 

well enough stocked with clothes and linen.



With this stock I had the world to begin again; but you are to 

consider that I was not now the same woman as when I lived 

at Redriff; for, first of all, I was near twenty years older, and 

did not look the better for my age, nor for my rambles to 

Virginia and back again; and though I omitted nothing that 

might set me out to advantage, except painting, for that I never 

stooped to, and had pride enough to think I did not want it, yet 

there would always be some difference seen between five-and-twenty 

and two-and-forty.



I cast about innumerable ways for my future state of life, and 

began to consider very seriously what I should do, but nothing 

offered.  I took care to make the world take me for something 

more than I was, and had it given out that I was a fortune, and 

that my estate was in my own hands; the last of which was 

very true, the first of it was as above.  I had no acquaintance, 

which was one of my worst misfortunes, and the consequence 

of that was, I had no adviser, at least who could assist and 

advise together; and above all, I had nobody to whom I could 

in  confidence commit the secret of my circumstances to, and 

could depend upon for their secrecy and fidelity; and I found 

by experience, that to be friendless in the worst condition, 

next to being in want that a woman can be reduced to:  I say 

a woman, because 'tis evident men can be their own advisers, 

and their own directors, and know how to work themselves 

out of difficulties and into business better than women; but if 

a woman has no friend to communicate her affairs to, and to 

advise and assist her, 'tis ten to one but she is undone; nay, 

and the more money she has, the more danger she is in of being 

wronged and deceived; and this was my case in the affair of 

the #100 which I left in the hands of the goldsmith, as above, 

whose credit, it seems, was upon the ebb before, but I, that 

had no knowledge of things and nobody to consult with, knew 

nothing of it, and so lost my money.



In the next place, when a woman is thus left desolate and void 

of counsel, she is just like a bag of money or a jewel dropped 

on the highway, which is a prey to the next comer; if a man of 

virtue and upright principles happens to find it, he will have it 

cried, and the owner may come to hear of it again; but how 

many times shall such a thing fall into hands that will make no 

scruple of seizing it for their own, to once that it shall come 

into good hands?



This was evidently my case, for I was now a loose, unguided 

creature, and had no help, no assistance, no guide for my 

conduct; I knew what I aimed at and what I wanted, but knew 

nothing how to pursue the end by direct means.  I wanted to 

be placed in a settle state of living, and had I happened to meet 

with a sober, good husband, I should have been as faithful and 

true a wife to him as virtue itself could have formed.  If I had 

been otherwise, the vice came in always at the door of necessity, 

not at the door of inclination; and I understood too well, by 

the want of it, what the value of a settled life was, to do 

anything to forfeit the felicity of it; nay, I should have made 

the better wife for all the difficulties I had passed through, by 

a great deal; nor did I in any of the time that I had been a wife 

give my husbands the least uneasiness on account of my 

behaviour.



But all this was nothing; I found no encouraging prospect.  I 

waited; I lived regularly, and with as much frugality as became 

my circumstances, but nothing offered, nothing presented, and 

the main stock wasted apace.  What to do I knew not; the 

terror of approaching poverty lay hard upon my spirits.  I had 

some money, but where to place it I knew not, nor would the 

interest of it maintain me, at least not in London.



At length a new scene opened.  There was in the house where 

I lodged a north-country woman that went for a gentlewoman, 

and nothing was more frequent in her discourse than her account 

of the cheapness of provisions, and the easy way of living in 

her country; how plentiful and how cheap everything was, what 

good company they kept, and the like; till at last I told her she 

almost tempted me to go and live in her country; for I that 

was a widow, though I had sufficient to live on, yet had no 

way of increasing it; and that I found I could not live here 

under #100 a year, unless I kept no company, no servant, made 

no appearance, and buried myself in privacy, as if I was obliged 

to it by necessity.



I should have observed, that she was always made to believe,

as everybody else was, that I was a great fortune, or at least 

that I had three or four thousand pounds, if not more, and all 

in my own hands; and she was mighty sweet upon me when 

she thought me inclined in the least to go into her country.  

She said she had a sister lived near Liverpool, that her brother 

was a considerable gentleman there, and had a great estate 

also in Ireland; that she would go down there in about two 

months, and if I would give her my company thither, I should 

be as welcome as herself for a month or more as I pleased, 

till I should see how I liked the country; and if I thought fit to 

live there, she would undertake they would take care, though 

they did not entertain lodgers themselves, they would recommend 

me to some agreeable family, where I should be placed to my 

content.



If this woman had known my real circumstances, she would 

never have laid so many snares, and taken so many weary steps 

to catch a poor desolate creature that was good for little when 

it was caught; and indeed I, whose case was almost desperate, 

and thought I could not be much worse, was not very anxious 

about what might befall me, provided they did me no personal 

injury; so I suffered myself, though not without a great deal 

of invitation and great professions of sincere friendship and 

real kindness--I say, I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to 

go with her, and accordingly I packed up my baggage, and put 

myself in a posture for a journey, though I did not absolutely 

know whither I was to go.



And now I found myself in great distress; what little I had 

in the world was all in money, except as before, a little plate, 

some linen, and my clothes; as for my household stuff, I had 

little or none, for I had lived always in lodgings; but I had not 

one friend in the world with whom to trust that little I had, or 

to direct me how to dispose of it, and this perplexed me night 

and day.  I thought of the bank, and of the other companies in 

London, but I had no friend to commit the management of it 

to, and keep and carry about with me bank bills, tallies, orders, 

and such things, I looked upon at as unsafe; that if they were 

lost, my money was lost, and then I was undone; and, on the 

other hand, I might be robbed and perhaps murdered in a strange 

place for them.  This perplexed me strangely, and what to do I 

knew not.



It came in my thoughts one morning that I would go to the 

bank myself, where I had often been to receive the interest of 

some bills I had, which had interest payable on them, and where 

I had found a clerk, to whom I applied myself, very honest and 

just to me, and particularly so fair one time that when I had 

mistold my money, and taken less than my due, and was coming 

away, he set me to rights and gave me the rest, which he might 

have put into his own pocket.



I went to him and represented my case very plainly, and asked 

if he would trouble himself to be my adviser, who was a poor 

friendless widow, and knew not what to do.  He told me, if 

I desired his opinion of anything within the reach of his business, 

he would do his endeavour that I should not be wronged, but 

that he would also help me to a good sober person who was 

a grave man of his acquaintance, who was a clerk in such 

business too, though not in their house, whose judgment was 

good, and whose honesty I might depend upon.  'For,' added 

he, 'I will answer for him, and for every step he takes; if he 

wrongs you, madam, of one farthing, it shall lie at my door, I 

will make it good; and he delights to assist people in such 

cases--he does it as an act of charity.'



I was a little at a stand in this discourse; but after some pause 

I told him I had rather have depended upon him, because I had 

found him honest, but if that could not be, I would take his 

recommendation sooner than any one's else.  'I dare say, 

madam,' says he, 'that you will be as well satisfied with my 

friend as with me, and he is thoroughly able to assist you, 

which I am not.'  It seems he had his hands full of the business 

of the bank, and had engaged to meddle with no other business 

that that of his office, which I heard afterwards, but did not 

understand then.  He added, that his friend should take nothing 

of me for his advice or assistance, and this indeed encouraged 

me very much.



He appointed the same evening, after the bank was shut and 

business over, for me to meet him and his friend.  And indeed 

as soon as I saw his friend, and he began but to talk of the 

affair, I was fully satisfied that I had a very honest man to deal 

with; his countenance spoke it, and his character, as I heard 

afterwards, was everywhere so good, that I had no room for 

any more  doubts upon me.



After the first meeting, in which I only said what I had said 

before, we parted, and he appointed me to come the next day 

to him, telling me I might in the meantime satisfy myself of 

him by inquiry, which, however, I knew not how well to do, 

having no acquaintance myself.



Accordingly I met him the next day, when I entered more 

freely with him into my case.  I told him my circumstances at 

large:  that I was a widow come over from American, perfectly 

desolate and friendless; that I had a little money, and but a 

little, and was almost distracted for fear of losing it, having no 

friend in the world to trust with the management of it; that I 

was going into the north of England to live cheap, that my 

stock might not waste; that I would willingly lodge my money 

in the bank, but that I durst not carry the bills about me, and 

the like, as above; and how to correspond about it, or with 

whom, I knew not.



He told me I might lodge the money in the bank as an account, 

and its being entered into the books would entitle me to the 

money at any time, and if I was in the north I might draw bills 

on the cashier and receive it when I would; but that then it 

would be esteemed as running cash, and the bank would give 

no interest for it; that I might buy stock with it, and so it would 

lie in store for me, but that then if I wanted to dispose if it, I 

must come up to town on purpose to transfer it, and even it 

would be with some difficulty I should receive the half-yearly 

dividend, unless I was here in person, or had some friend I 

could trust with having the stock in him name to do it for me, 

and that would have the same difficulty in it as before; and 

with that he looked hard at me and smiled a little.  At last, says 

he, 'Why do you not get a head steward, madam, that may take 

you and your money together into keeping, and then you would 

have the trouble taken off your hands?'  'Ay, sir, and the money 

too, it may be,' said I; 'for truly I find the hazard that way is as 

much as 'tis t'other way'; but I remember I said secretly to myself, 

'I wish you would ask me the question fairly, I would consider 

very seriously on it before I said No.'



He went on a good way with me, and I thought once or twice 

he was in earnest, but to my real affliction, I found at last he 

had a wife; but when he owned he had a wife he shook his head, 

and said with some concern, that indeed he had a wife, and no 

wife.  I began to think he had been in the condition of my late 

lover, and that his wife had been distempered or lunatic, or 

some such thing.  However, we had not much more discourse 

at that time, but he told me he was in too much hurry of 

business then, but that if I would come home to his house after 

their business was over, he would by that time consider what 

might be done for me, to put my affairs in a posture of security.  

I told him I would come, and desired to know where he lived.  

He gave me a direction in writing, and when he gave it me he 

read it to me, and said, 'There 'tis, madam, if you dare trust 

yourself with me.'  'Yes, sir,' said I, 'I believe I may venture 

to trust you with myself, for you have a wife, you say, and I 

don't want a husband; besides, I dare trust you with my money, 

which is all I have in the world, and if that were gone, I may 

trust myself anywhere.'



He said some things in jest that were very handsome and 

mannerly, and would have pleased me very well if they had 

been in earnest; but that passed over, I took the directions, 

and appointed to attend him at his house at seven o'clock the 

same evening.



When I came he made several proposals for my placing my 

money in the bank, in order to my having interest for it; but 

still some difficult or other came in the way, which he objected 

as not safe; and I found such a sincere disinterested honesty 

in him, that I began to muse with myself, that I had certainly 

found the honest man I wanted, and that I could never put 

myself into better hands; so I told him with a great deal of 

frankness that I had never met with a man or woman yet that 

I could trust, or in whom I could think myself safe, but that I 

saw he was so disinterestedly concerned for my safety, that I 

said I would freely trust him with the management of that little 

I had, if he would accept to be steward for a poor widow that 

could give him no salary.



He smiled and, standing up, with great respect saluted me.  

He told me he could not but take it very kindly that I had so 

good an opinion of him; that he would not deceive me, that 

he would do anything in his power to serve me, and expect 

no salary; but that he could not by any means accept of a trust, 

that it might bring him to be suspected of self-interest, and that 

if I should die he might have disputes with my executors, which 

he should be very loth to encumber himself with.



I told him if those were all his objections I would soon remove 

them, and convince him that there was not the least room for 

any difficulty; for that, first, as for suspecting him, if ever I 

should do it, now is the time to suspect him, and not put the 

trust into his hands, and whenever I did suspect him, he could 

but throw it up then and refuse to go any further.  Then, as to 

executors, I assured him I had no heirs, nor any relations in 

England, and I should alter my condition before I died, and 

then his trust and trouble should cease together, which, 

however, I had no prospect of yet; but I told him if I died as 

I was, it should be all his own, and he would deserve it by 

being so faithful to me as I was satisfied he would be.



He changed his countenance at this discourse, and asked me 

how I came to have so much good-will for him; and, looking 

very much pleased, said he might very lawfully wish he was 

a single man for my sake.  I smiled, and told him as he was 

not, my offer could have no design upon him in it, and to wish, 

ashe did, was not to be allowed, 'twas criminal to his wife.



He told me I was wrong.  'For,' says he, 'madam, as I said 

before, I have a wife and no wife, and 'twould be no sin to me 

to wish her hanged, if that were all.'  'I know nothing of your 

circumstances that way, sir,' said I; 'but it cannot be innocent 

to wish your wife dead.'  'I tell you,' says he again, 'she is a 

wife and no wife; you don't know what I am, or what she is.'



'That's true,' said I; 'sir, I do not know what you are, but I 

believe you to be an honest man, and that's the cause of all 

my confidence in you.'



'Well, well,' says he, 'and so I am, I hope, too.  but I am 

something else too, madam; for,' says he, 'to be plain with you, 

I am a cuckold, and she is a whore.'  He spoke it in a kind of 

jest, but it was with such an awkward smile, that I perceived 

it was what struck very close to him, and he looked dismally 

when he said it.



'That alters the case indeed, sir,' said I, 'as to that part you 

were speaking of; but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest 

man; it does not alter that case at all.  Besides, I think,' said 

I, 'since your wife is so dishonest to you, you are too honest 

to her to own her for your wife; but that,' said I, 'is what I 

have nothing to do with.'



'Nay,' says he, 'I do not think to clear my hands of her; for, 

to be plain with you, madam,' added he, 'I am no contended 

cuckold neither:  on the other hand, I assure you it provokes 

me the highest degree, but I can't help myself; she that will 

be a whore, will be a whore.'



I waived the discourse and began to talk of my business; but 

I found he could not have done with it, so I let him alone, and 

he went on to tell me all the circumstances of his case, too 

long to relate here; particularly, that having been out of England 

some time before he came to the post he was in, she had had 

two children in the meantime by an officer of the army; and 

that when he came to England and, upon her submission, took 

her again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran away from 

him with a linen-draper's apprentice, robbed him of what she 

could come at, and continued to live from him still.  'So that, 

madam,' says he, 'she is a whore not by necessity, which is 

the common bait of your sex, but by inclination, and for the 

sake of the vice.'



Well, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still 

would have talked of my business, but it would not do.  At 

last he looks steadily at me.  'Look you, madam,' says he, 

'you came to ask advice of me, and I will serve you as faithfully 

as if you were my own sister; but I must turn the tables, since 

you oblige me to do it, and are so friendly to me, and I think 

I must ask advice of you.  Tell me, what must a poor abused 

fellow do with a whore?  What can I do to do myself justice 

upon her?'



'Alas! sir,' says I, ''tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but 

it seems she has run away from you, so you are rid of her 

fairly; what can you desire more?'  'Ay, she is gone indeed,' 

said he, 'but I am not clear of her for all that.'



'That's true,' says I; 'she may indeed run you into debt, but 

the law has furnished you with methods to prevent that also; 

you may cry her down, as they call it.'



'No, no,' says he, 'that is not the case neither; I have taken 

care of all that; 'tis not that part that I speak of, but I would 

be rid of her so that I might marry again.'



'Well, sir,' says I, 'then you must divorce her.  If you can 

prove what you say, you may certainly get that done, and then, 

I suppose, you are free.'



'That's very tedious and expensive,' says he.



'Why,' says I, 'if you can get any woman you like to take your 

word, I suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with 

you that she takes herself.'



'Ay,' says he, 'but 'twould be hard to bring an honest woman 

to do that; and for the other sort,' says he, 'I have had enough 

of her to meddle with any more whores.'



It occurred to me presently, 'I would have taken your word 

with all my heart, if you had but asked me the question'; 

but that was to myself.  To him I replied, 'Why, you shut the 

door against any honest woman accepting you, for you condemn 

all that should venture upon you at once, and conclude, that 

really a woman that takes you now can't be honest.' 



'Why,' says he, 'I wish you would satisfy me that an honest 

woman would take me; I'd venture it'; and then turns short 

upon me, 'Will you take me, madam?'



'That's not a fair question,' says I, 'after what you have said;

however, lest you should think I wait only for a recantation 

of it, I shall answer you plainly, No, not I; my business is of 

another kind with you, and I did not expect you would have 

turned my serious application to you, in my own distracted 

case, into a comedy.'



'Why, madam,' says he, 'my case is as distracted as yours can 

be, and I stand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think 

if I have not relief somewhere, I shall be made myself, and I 

know not what course to take, I protest to you.'



'Why, sir,' says I, ''tis easy to give advice in your case, much 

easier than it is in mine.'  'Speak then,' says he, 'I beg of you, 

for now you encourage me.'



'Why,' says I, 'if your case is so plain as you say it is, you may 

be legally divorced, and then you may find honest women 

enough to ask the question of fairly; the sex is not so scarce 

that you can want a wife.'



'Well, then,' said he, 'I am in earnest; I'll take your advice; 

but shall I ask you one question seriously beforehand?' 



'Any question,' said I, 'but that you did before.'



'No, that answer will not do,' said he, 'for, in short, that is the

question I shall ask.'



'You may ask what questions you please, but you have my 

answer to that already,' said I.  'Besides, sir,' said I, 'can you 

think so ill of me as that I would give any answer to such a 

question beforehand?  Can any woman alive believe you in 

earnest, or think you design anything but to banter her?'



'Well, well,' says he, 'I do not banter you, I am in earnest; 

consider of it.'



'But, sir,' says I, a little gravely, 'I came to you about my own 

business; I beg of you to let me know, what you will advise me 

to do?'



'I will be prepared,' says he, 'against you come again.'



'Nay,' says I, 'you have forbid my coming any more.'



'Why so?' said he, and looked a little surprised.



'Because,' said I, 'you can't expect I should visit you on the 

account you talk of.'



'Well,' says he, 'you shall promise me to come again, however, 

and I will not say any more of it till I have gotten the divorce, 

but I desire you will prepare to be better conditioned when 

that's done, for you shall be the woman, or I will not be 

divorced at all; why, I owe it to your unlooked-for kindness, 

if it were to nothing else, but I have other reasons too.'



He could not have said anything in the world that pleased me 

better; however, I knew that the way to secure him was to 

stand off while the thing was so remote, as it appeared to be, 

and that it was time enough to accept of it when he was able 

to perform it; so I said very respectfully to him, it was time 

enough to consider of these things when he was in a condition 

to talk of them; in the meantime, I told him, I was going a 

great way from him, and he would find objects enough to 

please him better.  We broke off here for the present, and he 

made me promise him to come again the next day, for his 

resolutions upon my own business, which after some pressing 

I did; though had he seen farther into me, I wanted no pressing 

on that account.



I came the next evening, accordingly, and brought my maid 

with me, to let him see that I kept a maid, but I sent her away 

as soon as I was gone in.  He would have had me let the maid 

have stayed, but I would not, but ordered her aloud to come 

for me again about nine o'clock.  But he forbade that, and told 

me he would see me safe home, which, by the way, I was not 

very well please with, supposing he might do that to know 

where I lived and inquire into my character and circumstances.  

However, I ventured that, for all that the people there or 

thereabout knew of me, was to my advantage; and all the 

character he had of me, after he had inquired, was that I was 

a woman of fortune, and that I was a very modest, sober body; 

which, whether true or not in the main, yet you may see how 

necessary it is for all women who expect anything in the world, 

to preserve the character of their virtue, even when perhaps 

they may have sacrificed the thing itself.



I found, and was not a little please with it, that he had provided 

a supper for me.  I found also he lived very handsomely, and 

had a house very handsomely furnished; all of which I was  

rejoiced at indeed, for I looked upon it as all my own.



We had now a second conference upon the subject-matter of 

the last conference.  He laid his business very home indeed; he 

protested his affection to me, and indeed I had no room to 

doubt it; he declared that it began from the first moment I 

talked with him, and long before I had mentioned leaving my 

effects with him.  ''Tis no matter when it began,' thought I; 

'if it will but hold, 'twill be well enough.'  He then told me 

how much the offer I had made of trusting him with my effects, 

and leaving them to him, had enraged him.  'So I intended it 

should,' thought I, 'but then I thought you had been a single 

man too.'  After we had supped, I observed he pressed me 

very hard to drink two or three glasses of wine, which, however, 

I declined, but drank one glass or two.  He then told me he 

had a proposal to make to me, which I should promise him I 

would not take ill if I should not grant it.  I told him I hoped 

he would make no dishonourable proposal to me, especially 

in his own house, and that if it was such, I desired he would 

not propose it, that I might not be obliged to offer any 

resentment to him that did not become the respect I professed 

for him, and the trust I had placed in him in coming to his house; 

and begged of him he would give me leave to go away, and 

accordingly began to put on my gloves and prepare to be gone, 

though at the same time I no more intended it than he intended 

to let me.



Well, he importuned me not to talk of going; he assured me 

he had no dishonourable thing in his thoughts about me, and 

was very far from offering anything to me that was dishonourable, 

and if I thought so, he would choose to say no more of it.



That part I did not relish at all.  I told him I was ready to hear 

anything that he had to say, depending that he would say nothing 

unworthy of himself, or unfit for me to hear.  Upon this, he 

told me his proposal was this:  that I would marry him, though 

he had not yet obtained the divorce from the whore his wife; 

and to satisfy me that he meant honourably, he would promise 

not to desire me to live with him, or go to bed with him till the 

divorce was obtained.  My heart said yet to this offer at first 

word, but it was necessary to play the hypocrite a little more 

with him; so I seemed to decline the motion with some warmth, 

and besides a little condemning the thing as unfair, told him 

that such a proposal could be of no signification, but to entangle 

us both in great difficulties; for if he should not at last obtain 

the divorce, yet we could not dissolve the marriage, neither 

could we proceed in it; so that if he was disappointed in the 

divorce, I left him to consider what a condition we should 

both be in.



In short, I carried on the argument against this so far, that I 

convinced him it was not a proposal that had any sense in it.  

Well, then he went from it to another, and that was, that I 

would sign and seal a contract with him, conditioning to marry 

him as soon as the divorce was obtained, and to be void if he 

could not obtain it.



I told him such a thing was more rational than the other; but 

as this was the first time that ever I could imagine him weak 

enough to be in earnest in this affair, I did not use to say Yes 

at first asking; I would consider of it.



I played with this lover as an angler does with a trout.  I found 

I had him fast on the hook, so I jested with his new proposal, 

and put him off.  I told him he knew little of me, and bade him 

inquire about me; I let him also go home with me to my lodging, 

though I would not ask him to go in, for I told him it was not 

decent.



In short, I ventured to avoid signing a contract of marriage, 

and the reason why I did it was because the lady that had 

invited me so earnestly to go with her into Lancashire insisted 

so positively upon it, and promised me such great fortunes, 

and such fine things there, that I was tempted to go and try.  

'Perhaps,' said I, 'I may mend myself very much'; and then I 

made no scruple in my thoughts of quitting my honest citizen, 

whom I was not so much in love with as not to leave him for 

a richer.



In a word, I avoided a contract; but told him I would go into 

the north, that he should know where to write to me by the 

consequence of the business I had entrusted with him; that I 

would give him a sufficient pledge of my respect for him, for 

I would leave almost all I had in the world in his hands; and 

I would thus far give him my word, that as soon as he had 

sued out a divorce from his first wife, he would send me an 

account of it, I would come up to London, and that then we 

would talk seriously of the matter.



It was a base design I went with, that I must confess, though 

I was invited thither with a design much worse than mine was, 

as the sequel will discover.  Well, I went with my friend, as I 

called her, into Lancashire.  All the way we went she caressed 

me with the utmost appearance of a sincere, undissembled 

affection; treated me, except my coach-hire, all the way; and 

her brother brought a gentleman's coach to Warrington to 

receive us, and we were carried from thence to Liverpool with 

as much ceremony as I could desire.  We were also entertained 

at a merchant's house in Liverpool three or four days very 

handsomely; I forbear to tell his name, because of what followed.  

Then she told me she would carry me to an uncle's house of 

hers, where we should be nobly entertained.  She did so; her 

uncle, as she called him, sent a coach and four horses for us, 

and we were carried near forty miles I know not whither.



We came, however, to a gentleman's seat, where was a 

numerous family, a large park, extraordinary company indeed, 

and where she was called cousin.  I told her if she had resolved 

to bring me into such company as this, she should have let me 

have prepared myself, and have furnished myself with better 

clothes.  The ladies took notice of that, and told me very 

genteelly they did not value people in their country so much 

by their clothes as they did in London; that their cousin had 

fully informed them of my quality, and that I did not want 

clothes to set me off; in short, they entertained me, not like 

what I was, but like what they thought I had been, namely, a 

widow lady of a great fortune.



The first discovery I made here was, that the family were all 

Roman Catholics, and the cousin too, whom I called my friend; 

however, I must say that nobody in the world could behave 

better to me, and I had all the civility shown me that I could 

have had if I had been of their opinion.  The truth is, I had not 

so much principle of any kind as to be nice in point of religion, 

and I presently learned to speak favourably of the Romish 

Church; particularly, I told them I saw little but the prejudice 

of education in all the difference that were among Christians 

about religion, and if it had so happened that my father had 

been a Roman Catholic, I doubted not but I should have been 

as well pleased with their religion as my own.



This obliged them in the highest degree, and as I was besieged 

day and night with good company and pleasant discourse, so 

I had two or three old ladies that lay at me upon the subject 

of religion too.  I was so complaisant, that though I would not 

completely engage, yet I made no scruple to be present at their 

mass, and to conform to all their gestures as they showed me 

the pattern, but I would not come too cheap; so that I only in 

the main encouraged them to expect that I would turn Roman 

Catholic, if I was instructed in the Catholic doctrine as they 

called it, and so the matter rested.



I stayed here about six weeks; and then my conductor led me 

back to a country village, about six miles from Liverpool, 

where her brother (as she called him) came to visit me in his 

own chariot, and in a very good figure, with two footmen in 

a good livery; and the next thing was to make love to me.  As 

it had happened to me, one would think I could not have been 

cheated, and indeed I thought so myself, having a safe card at 

home, which I resolved not to quit unless I could mend myself 

very much.  However, in all appearance this brother was a 

match worth my listening to, and the least his estate was valued 

at was #1000 a year, but the sister said it was worth #1500 a 

year, and  lay most of it in Ireland.



I that was a great fortune, and passed for such, was above 

being asked how much my estate was; and my false friend 

taking it upon a foolish hearsay, had raised it from #500 to 

#5000, and by the time she came into the country she called 

it  #15,000.  The Irishman, for such I understood him to be, 

was stark mad at this bait; in short, he courted me, made me 

presents, and ran in debt like a madman for the expenses of 

his equipage and of  his courtship.  He had, to give him his due, 

the appearance of an extraordinary fine gentleman; he was tall, 

well-shaped, and had an extraordinary address; talked as 

naturally of his park and his stables, of his horses, his gamekeepers, 

his woods, his tenants, and his servants, as if we had been in 

the mansion-house, and I had seen them all about me.



He never so much as asked me about my fortune or estate, but 

assured me that when we came to Dublin he would jointure 

me in #600 a year good land; and that we could enter into a  

deed of settlement or contract here for the performance of it.



This was such language indeed as I had not been used to, and 

I was here beaten out of all my measures; I had a she-devil in 

my bosom, every hour telling me how great her brother lived.  

One time she would come for my orders, how I would have 

my coaches painted, and how lined; and another time what 

clothes my page should wear; in short, my eyes were dazzled.  

I had now lost my power of saying No, and, to cut the story 

short, I consented to be married; but to be the more private, 

we were carried farther into the country, and married by a 

Romish clergyman, who I was assured would marry us as 

effectually as a Church of England parson.



I cannot say but I had some reflections in this affair upon the 

dishonourable forsaking my faithful citizen, who loved me 

sincerely, and who was endeavouring to quit himself of a  

scandalous whore by whom he had been indeed barbarously 

used, and promised himself infinite happiness in his new choice; 

which choice was now giving up herself to another in a manner 

almost as scandalous as hers could be.



But the glittering shoe of a great estate, and of fine things, 

which the deceived creature that was now my deceiver 

represented every hour to my imagination, hurried me away, 

and gave me no time to think of London, or of anything there, 

much less of the obligation I had to a person of infinitely more 

real merit than what was now before me.



But the thing was done; I was now in the arms of my new 

spouse, who appeared still the same as before; great even to 

magnificence, and nothing less than #1000 a year could support 

the ordinary equipage he appeared in.



After we had been married about a month, he began to talk 

of my going to West Chester in order to embark for Ireland.  

However, he did not hurry me, for we stayed near three weeks 

longer, and then he sent to Chester for a coach to meet us at 

the Black Rock, as they call it, over against Liverpool.  Thither 

we went in a fine boat they call a pinnace, with six oars; his 

servants, and horses, and baggage going in the ferry-boat.  

He made his excuse to me that he had no acquaintance in 

Chester, but he would go before and get some handsome 

apartment for me at a private house.  I asked him how long 

we should stay at Chester.  He said, not at all, any longer than 

one night or two, but he would immediately hire a coach to 

go to Holyhead.  Then I told him he should by no means give

 himself the trouble to get private lodgings for one night or 

two, for that Chester being a great place, I made no doubt but 

there would be very good inns and accommodation enough; 

so we lodged at an inn in the West Street, not far from the 

Cathedral; I forget what sign it was at.



Here my spouse, talking of my going to Ireland, asked me if 

I had no affairs to settle at London before we went off.  I 

told him No, not of any great consequence, but what might be 

done as well by letter from Dublin.  'Madam,' says he, very 

respectfully, 'I suppose the greatest part of your estate, which 

my sister tells me is most of it in money in the Bank of England, 

lies secure enough, but in case it required transferring, or any 

way altering its property, it might be necessary to go up to 

London and settle those things before we went over.'



I seemed to look strange at it, and told him I knew not what 

he meant; that I had no effects in the Bank of England that I 

knew of; and I hoped he could not say that I had ever told him 

I had.  No, he said, I had not told him so, but his sister had 

said the greatest part of my estate lay there.  'And I only 

mentioned it, me dear,' said he, 'that if there was any occasion 

to settle it, or order anything about it, we might not be obliged 

to the hazard and trouble of another voyage back again'; for 

he added, that he did not care to venture me too much upon 

the sea.



I was surprised at this talk, and began to consider very seriously 

what the meaning of it must be; and it presently occurred to me 

that my friend, who called him brother, had represented me in 

colours which were not my due; and I thought, since it was come 

to that pitch, that I would know the bottom of it before I went 

out of England, and before I should put myself into I knew not 

whose hands in a strange country.



Upon this I called his sister into my chamber the next morning, 

and letting her know the discourse her brother and I had 

been upon the evening before, I conjured her to tell me what 

she had said to him, and upon what foot it was that she had 

made this marriage.  She owned that she had told him that I 

was a great fortune, and said that she was told so at London. 

'Told so!' says I warmly; 'did I ever tell you so?'  No, she 

said, it was true I did not tell her so, but I had said several 

times that what I had was in my own disposal.  'I did so,' 

returned I very quickly and hastily, 'but I never told you I had 

anything called a fortune; no, not that I had #100, or the value 

of #100, in the world.  Any how did it consist with my being 

a fortune,; said I, 'that I should come here into the north of 

England with you, only upon the account of living cheap?'  

At these words, which I spoke warm and high, my husband, 

her brother (as she called him), came into the room, and I 

desired him to come and sit down, for I had something of 

moment to say before them both, which it was absolutely 

necessary he should hear.



He looked a little disturbed at the assurance with which I 

seemed to speak it, and came and sat down by me, having first 

shut the door; upon which I began, for I was very much provoked, 

and turning myself to him, 'I am afraid,' says I, 'my dear' (for 

I spoke with kindness on his side), 'that you have a very great 

abuse put upon you, and an injury done you never to be 

repaired in your marrying me, which, however, as I have had 

no hand in it, I desire I may be fairly acquitted of it, and that 

the blame may lie where it ought to lie, and nowhere else, for 

I wash my hands of every part of it.'



'What injury can be done me, my dear,' says he, 'in marrying 

you.  I hope it is to my honour and advantage every way.'  'I 

will soon explain it to you,' says I, 'and I fear you will have 

no reason to think yourself well used; but I will convince you, 

my dear,' says I again, 'that I have had no hand in it'; and there 

I stopped a while.



He looked now scared and wild, and began, I believe, to 

suspect what followed; however, looking towards me, and 

saying only, 'Go on,' he sat silent, as if to hear what I had 

more to say; so I went on.  'I asked you last night,' said I, 

speaking to him, 'if ever I made any boast to you of my estate, 

or ever told you I had any estate in the Bank of England or 

anywhere else, and you owned I had not, as is most true; and 

I desire you will tell me here, before your sister, if ever I gave 

you any reason from me to think so, or that ever we had any 

discourse about it'; and he owned again I had not, but said I 

had appeared always as a woman of fortune, and he depended 

on it that I was so, and hoped he was not deceived.  'I am not 

inquiring yet whether you have been deceived or not,' said I; 

'I fear you have, and I too; but I am clearing myself from the 

unjust charge of being concerned in deceiving you.



'I have been now asking your sister if ever I told her of any 

fortune or estate I had, or gave her any particulars of it; and 

she owns I never did.  Any pray, madam,' said I, turning myself 

to her, 'be so just to me, before your brother, to charge me, 

if you can, if ever I pretended to you that I had an estate; and 

why, if I had, should I come down into this country with you 

on purpose to spare that little I had, and live cheap?'  She 

could not deny one word, but said she had been told in London 

that I had a very great fortune, and that it lay in the Bank of 

England.



'And now, dear sir,' said I, turning myself to my new spouse 

again, 'be so just to me as to tell me who has abused both you 

and me so much as to make you believe I was a fortune, and 

prompt you to court me to this marriage?'  He could not speak 

a word, but pointed to her; and, after some more pause, flew 

out in the most furious passion that ever I saw a man in my 

life, cursing her, and calling her all the whores and hard names 

he could think of; and that she had ruined him, declaring that 

she had told him I had #15,000, and that she was to have #500 

of him for procuring this match for him.  He then added, 

directing his speech to me, that she was none of his sister, but 

had been his whore for two years before, that she had had #100 

of him in part of this bargain, and that he was utterly undone 

if things were as I said; and in his raving he swore he would 

let her heart's blood out immediately, which frightened her 

and me too.  She cried, said she had been told so in the house 

where I lodged.  But this aggravated him more than before, 

that she should put so far upon him, and run things such a 

length upon no other authority than a hearsay; and then, turning 

to me again, said very honestly, he was afraid we were both 

undone.  'For, to be plain, my dear, I have no estate,' says he; 

'what little I had, this devil has made me run out in waiting 

on you and putting me into this equipage.'  She took the 

opportunity of his being earnest in talking with me, and got 

out of the room, and I never saw her more.



I was confounded now as much as he,  and knew not what to 

say.  I thought many ways that I had the worst of it, but his 

saying he was undone, and that he had no estate neither, put 

me into a mere distraction.  'Why,' says I to him, 'this has 

been a hellish juggle, for we are married here upon the foot 

of a double fraud; you are undone by the disappointment, it 

seems; and if I had had a fortune I had been cheated too, for 

you say you have nothing.'



'You would indeed have been cheated, my dear,' says he, 'but 

you would not have been undone, for #15,000 would have 

maintained us both very handsomely in this country; and I 

assure you,' added he, 'I had resolved to have dedicated every 

groat of it to you; I would not have wronged you of a shilling, 

and the rest I would have made up in my affection to you, and 

tenderness of you, as long as I lived.'



This was very honest indeed, and I really believe he spoke 

as he intended, and that he was a man that was as well qualified 

to make me happy, as to his temper and behaviour, as any 

man ever was; but his having no estate, and being run into debt 

on this ridiculous account in the country, made all the prospect 

dismal and dreadful, and I knew not what to say, or what to 

think of myself.



I told him it was very unhappy that so much love, and so much 

good nature as I discovered in him, should be thus precipitated 

into misery; that I saw nothing before us but ruin; for as to me, 

it was my unhappiness that what little I had was not able to 

relieve us week, and with that I pulled out a bank bill of #20 

and eleven guineas, which I told him I had saved out of  my 

little income, and that by the account that creature had given 

me of the way of living in that country, I expected it would 

maintain me three or four years; that if it was taken from me, 

I was left destitute, and he knew what the condition of a woman 

among strangers must be, if she had no money in her pocket; 

however, I told him, if he would take it, there it was.



He told me with a great concern, and I thought I saw tears 

stand in his eyes, that he would not touch it; that he abhorred 

the thoughts of stripping me and make me miserable; that, on 

the contrary, he had fifty guineas left, which was all he had in 

the world, and he pulled it out and threw it down on the table, 

bidding me take it, though he were to starve for want of it. 



I returned, with the same concern for him, that I could not 

bear to hear him talk so; that, on the contrary, if he could 

propose any probable method of living, I would do anything 

that became me on my part, and that I would live as close 

and as narrow as he could desire.



He begged of me to talk no more at that rate, for it would 

make him distracted; he said he was bred a gentleman, though 

he was reduced to a low fortune, and that there was but one 

way left which he could think of, and that would not do, 

unless I could answer him one question, which, however, he 

said he would not press me to.  I told him I would answer it 

honestly; whether it would be to his satisfaction or not, that 

I could not tell.



'Why, then, my dear, tell me plainly,' says he, 'will the little 

you have keep us together in any figure, or in any station or 

place, or will it not?'



It was my happiness hitherto that I had not discovered myself 

or my circumstances at all--no, not so much as my name; and 

seeing these was nothing to be expected from him, however 

good-humoured and however honest he seemed to be, but to 

live on what I knew would soon be wasted, I resolved to 

conceal everything but the bank bill and the eleven guineas 

which I had owned; and I would have been very glad to have 

lost that and have been set down where he took me up.  I had 

indeed another bank bill about me of #30, which was the whole 

of what I brought with me, as well to subsist on in the country, 

as not knowing what might offer; because this creature, the 

go-between that had thus betrayed us both, had made me 

believe strange things of my marrying to my advantage in the 

country, and I was not willing to be without money, whatever 

might happen.  This bill I concealed, and that made me the 

freer of the rest, in consideration of his circumstances, for I 

really pitied him heartily.



But to return to his question, I told him I never willingly 

deceived him, and I never would.  I was very sorry to tell him 

that the little I had would not subsist us; that it was not 

sufficient to subsist me alone in the south country, and that 

this was the reason that made me put myself into the hands 

of that woman who called him brother, she having assured 

me that I might board very handsomely at a town called 

Manchester, where I had not yet been, for about #6 a year; 

and my whole income not being about #15 a year, I thought I 

might live easy upon it, and wait for better things.



He shook his head and remained silent, and a very melancholy 

evening we had; however, we supped together, and lay together 

that night, and when we had almost supped he looked a little 

better and more cheerful, and called for a bottle of wine.  'Come, 

my dear,' says he, ' though the case is bad, it is to no purpose 

to be dejected.  come, be as easy as you can; I will endeavour 

to find out some way or other to live; if you can but subsist 

yourself, that is better than nothing.  I must try the world again; 

a man ought to think like a man; to be discouraged is to yield 

to the misfortune.'  With this he filled a glass and drank to me, 

holding my hand and pressing it hard in his hand all the while 

the wine went down, and protesting afterwards his main 

concern was for me.



It was really a true, gallant spirit he was of, and it was the 

more grievous to me.  'Tis something of relief even to be 

undone by a man of honour, rather than by a scoundrel; but 

here the greatest disappointment was on his side, for he had 

really spent a great deal of money, deluded by this madam the 

procuress; and it was very remarkable on what poor terms he 

proceeded.  First the baseness of the creature herself is to be 

observed, who, for the getting #100 herself, could be content 

to let him spend three or four more, though perhaps it was all 

he had in the world, and more than all; when she had not the 

least ground, more than a little tea-table chat, to say that I had 

any estate, or was a fortune, or the like.  It is true the design 

of deluding a woman of fortune, I f I had been so, was base 

enough; the putting the face of great things upon poor 

circumstances was a fraud, and bad enough; but the case a 

little differed too, and that in his favour, for he was not a rake 

that made a trade to delude women, and, as some have done, 

get six or seven fortunes after one another, and then rifle and 

run away from them; but he was really a gentleman, unfortunate 

and low, but had lived well; and though, if I had had a fortune, 

I should have been enraged at the slut for betraying me, yet 

really for the man, a fortune would not have been ill bestowed 

on him, for he was a lovely person indeed, of generous principles, 

good sense, and of abundance of good-humour.



We had a great deal of close conversation that night, for we 

neither of us slept much; he was as penitent for having put all 

those cheats upon me as if it had been felony, and that he was 

going to execution; he offered me again every shilling of the 

money he had about him, and said he would go into the army 

and seek the world for more.



I asked him why he would be so unkind to carry me into 

Ireland, when I might suppose he could not have subsisted me 

there.  He took me in his arms.  'My dear,' said he, 'depend 

upon it, I never designed to go to Ireland at all, much less to 

have carried you thither, but came hither to be out of the 

observation of the people, who had heard what I pretended to, 

and withal, that nobody might ask me for money before I was 

furnished to supply them.'



'But where, then,' said I, 'were we to have gone next?'



'Why, my dear,' said he, 'I'll confess the whole scheme to you 

as I had laid it; I purposed here to ask you something about 

your estate, as you see I did, and when you, as I expected you 

would, had entered into some account with me of the particulars, 

I would have made an excuse to you to have put off our voyage 

to Ireland for some time, and to have gone first towards London.



'Then, my dear,' said he, 'I resolved to have confessed all the 

circumstances of my own affairs to you, and let you know I 

had indeed made use of these artifices to obtain your consent 

to marry me, but had now nothing to do but ask to your pardon, 

and to tell you how abundantly, as I have said above, I would 

endeavour to make you forget what was past, by the felicity 

of the days to come.' 



'Truly,' said I to him, 'I find you would soon have conquered 

me; and it is my affliction now, that I am not in a condition to 

let you see how easily I should have been reconciled to you, 

and have passed by all the tricks you had put upon me, in 

recompense of so much good-humour.  But, my dear,' said I, 

'what can we do now?  We are both undone, and what better 

are we for our being reconciled together, seeing we have 

nothing to live on?'



We proposed a great many things, but nothing could offer 

where there was nothing to begin with.  He begged me at last 

to talk no more of it, for, he said, I would break his heart; so 

we talked of other things a little, till at last he took a husband's 

leave of me, and so we went to sleep.



He rose before me in the morning; and indeed, having lain 

awake almost all night, I was very sleepy, and lay till near 

eleven o'clock.  In this time he took his horses and three 

servants, and all his linen and baggage, and away he went, 

leaving a short but moving letter for me on the table, as 

follows:--





'MY DEAR--I am a dog; I have abused you; but I have been 

drawn into do it by a base creature, contrary to my principle 

and the general practice of my life.  Forgive me, my dear!  I 

ask your pardon with the greatest sincerity; I am the most 

miserable of men, in having deluded you.  I have been so happy 

to posses you, and now am so wretched as to be forced to fly 

from you.  Forgive me, my dear; once more I say, forgive me!  

I am not able to see you ruined by me, and myself unable to 

support you.  Our marriage is nothing; I shall never be able to 

see you again; I here discharge you from it; if you can marry 

to your advantage, do not decline it on my account; I here 

swear to you on my faith, and on the word of a man of honour, 

I will never disturb your repose if I should know of it, which, 

however, is not likely.  On the other hand, if you should not 

marry, and if good fortune should befall me, it shall be all yours, 

wherever you are.



'I have put some of the stock of money I have left into your 

pocket; take places for yourself and your maid in the stage-coach, 

and go for London; I hope it will bear your charges thither, 

without breaking into your own.  Again I sincerely ask your 

pardon, and will do so as often as I shall ever think of you.  

Adieu, my dear, for ever!--I am, your most affectionately, J.E.'





Nothing that ever befell me in my life sank so deep into my 

heart as this farewell.  I reproached him a thousand times in 

my thoughts for leaving me, for I would have gone with him 

through the world, if I had begged my bread.  I felt in my 

pocket, and there found ten guineas, his gold watch, and two 

little rings, one a small diamond ring worth only about #6, and 

the other a plain gold ring.



I sat me down and looked upon these things two hours 

together, and scarce spoke a word, till my maid interrupted 

me by telling me my dinner was ready.  I ate but little, and 

after dinner I fell into a vehement fit of crying, every now and 

then calling him by his name, which was James.  'O Jemmy!' 

said I, 'come back, come back.  I'll give you all I have; I'll 

beg, I'll starve with you.'  And thus I ran raving about the 

room several times, and then sat down between whiles, and 

then walking about again, called upon him to come back, and 

then cried again; and thus I passed the afternoon, till about 

seven o'clock, when it was near dusk, in the evening, being 

August, when, to my unspeakable surprise, he comes back 

into the inn, but without a servant, and comes directly up into 

my chamber.



I was in the greatest confusion imaginable, and so was he too.  

I could not imagine what should be the occasion of it, and 

began to be at odds with myself whether to be glad or sorry; 

but my affection biassed all the rest, and it was impossible to 

conceal my joy, which was too great for smiles, for it burst 

out into tears.  He was no sooner entered the room but he ran 

to me and took me in his arms, holding me fast, and almost 

stopping my breath with his kisses, but spoke not a word.  

At length I began.  'My dear,' said I, 'how could you go away 

from me?' to which he gave no answer, for it was impossible 

for him to speak.



When our ecstasies were a little over, he told me he was gone 

about fifteen miles, but it was not in his power to go any farther 

without coming back to see me again, and to take his leave of 

me once more.



I told him how I had passed my time, and how loud I had 

called him to come back again.  He told me he heard me very 

plain upon Delamere Forest, at a place about twelve miles off.  

I smiled.   'Nay,' says he, 'do not think I am in jest, for if ever 

I heard your voice in my life, I heard you call me aloud, and 

sometimes I thought I saw you running after me.'  'Why,' 

said I, 'what did I say?'--for I had not named the words to him.  

'You called aloud,' says he, 'and said, O Jemmy!  O Jemmy! 

come back, come back.'



I laughed at him.  'My dear,' says he, 'do not laugh, for, depend 

upon it, I heard your voice as plain as you hear mine now; if 

you please, I'll go before a magistrate and make oath of it.'  I 

then began to be amazed and surprised, and indeed frightened, 

and told him what I had really done, and how I had called after 

him, as above.



When we had amused ourselves a while about this, I said to 

him:  'Well, you shall go away from me no more; I'll go all 

over the world with you rather.'  He told me it would be very 

difficult thing for him to leave me, but since it must be, he 

hoped I would make it as easy to me as I could; but as for him, 

it would be his destruction that he foresaw.



However, he told me that he considered he had left me to 

travel to London alone, which was too long a journey; and 

that as he might as well go that way as any way else, he was 

resolved to see me safe thither, or near it; and if he did go 

away then without taking his leave, I should not take it ill of 

him; and this he made me promise.



He told me how he had dismissed his three servants, sold 

their horses, and sent the fellows away to seek their fortunes, 

and all in a little time, at a town on the road, I know not where.  

'And,' says he, 'it cost me some tears all alone by myself, to 

think how much happier they were than their master, for they 

could go to the next gentleman's house to see for a service, 

whereas,' said he, 'I knew not wither to go, or what to do 

with myself.'



I told him I was so completely miserable in parting with him, 

that I could not be worse; and that now he was come again, 

I would not go from him, if he would take me with him, let 

him go whither he would, or do what he would.  And in the 

meantime I agreed that we would go together to London; but 

I could not be brought to consent he should go away at last 

and not take his leave of me, as he proposed to do; but told 

him, jesting, that if he did, I would call him back again as loud 

as I did before.  Then I pulled out his watch and gave it him 

back, and his two rings, and his ten guineas; but he would not 

take them, which made me very much suspect that he resolved 

to go off upon the road and leave me.



The truth is, the circumstances he was in, the passionate 

expressions of his letter, the kind, gentlemanly treatment I had 

from him in all the affair, with the concern he showed for me 

in it, his manner of parting with that large share which he gave 

me of his little stock left--all these had joined to make such 

impressions on me, that I really loved him most tenderly, and 

could not bear the thoughts of parting with him.



Two days after this we quitted Chester, I in the stage-coach, 

and he on horseback.  I dismissed my maid at Chester.  He 

was very much against my being without a maid, but she being 

a servant hired in the country, and I resolving to keep no 

servant at London, I told him it would have been barbarous 

to have taken the poor wench and have turned her away as 

soon as I came to town; and it would also have been a needless 

charge on the road, so I satisfied him, and he was easy enough 

on the score.



He came with me as far as Dunstable, within thirty miles of 

London, and then he told me fate and his own misfortunes 

obliged him to leave me, and that it was not convenient for 

him to go to London, for reasons which it was of no value to 

me to know, and I saw him preparing to go.  The stage-coach 

we were in did not usually stop at Dunstable, but I desiring it 

but for a quart of an hour, they were content to stand at an 

inndoor a while, and we went into the house.



Being in the inn, I told him I had but one favour more to as 

of him, and that was, that since he could not go any farther, 

he would give me leave to stay a week or two in the town with 

him, that we might in that time think of something to prevent 

such a ruinous thing to us both, as a final separation would be; 

and that I had something of moment to offer him, that I had 

never said yet, and which perhaps he might find practicable to 

our mutual advantage.



This was too reasonable a proposal to be denied, so he called 

the landlady of the house, and told her his wife was taken ill, 

and so ill that she could not think of going any farther in the 

stage-coach, which had tired her almost to death, and asked 

if she could not get us a lodging for two or three days in a 

private house, where I might rest me a little, for the journey 

had been too much for me.  The landlady, a good sort of 

woman, well-bred and very obliging, came immediately to 

see me; told me she had two or three very good rooms in a 

part of the house quite out of the noise, and if I saw them, 

she did not doubt but I would like them, and I should have 

one of her maids, that should do nothing else but be appointed 

to wait on me.  This was so very kind, that I could not but 

accept of it, and thank her; so I went to look on the rooms and 

liked them very well, and indeed they were extraordinarily 

furnished, and very pleasant lodgings; so we paid the stage-coach, 

took out our baggage, and resolved to stay here a while.



Here I told him I would live with him now till all my money 

was spent, but would not let him spend a shilling of his own.  

We had some kind squabble about that, but I told him it was 

the last time I was like to enjoy his company, and I desired he 

would let me be master in that thing only, and he should govern 

in everything else; so he acquiesced.



Here one evening, taking a walk into the fields, I told him I 

would now make the proposal to him I had told him of; 

accordingly I related to him how I had lived in Virginia, that 

I had a mother I believed was alive there still, though my 

husband was dead some years.  I told him that had not my 

effects miscarried, which, by the way, I magnified pretty much, 

I might have been fortune good enough to him to have kept 

us from being parted in this manner.  Then I entered into the 

manner of peoples going over to those countries to settle, 

how they had a quantity of land given them by the Constitution 

of the place; and if not, that it might be purchased at so easy a 

rate this it was not worth naming.



I then gave him a full and distinct account of the nature of 

planting; how with carrying over but two or three hundred 

pounds value in English goods, with some servants and tools, 

a man of application would presently lay a foundation for a 

family, and in a very few years be certain to raise an estate.



I let him into the nature of the product of the earth; how the 

ground was cured and prepared, and what the usual increase 

of it was; and demonstrated to him, that in a very few years, 

with such a beginning, we should be as certain of being rich 

as we were now certain of being poor.



He was surprised at my discourse; for we made it the whole 

subject of our conversation for near a week together, in which 

time I laid it down in black and white, as we say, that it was 

morally impossible, with a supposition of any reasonable good 

conduct, but that we must thrive there and do very well.



Then I told him what measures I would take to raise such a 

sum of #300 or thereabouts; and I argued with him how good 

a method it would be to put an end to our misfortunes and 

restore our circumstances in the world, to what we had both 

expected; and I added, that after seven years, if we lived, we 

might be in a posture to leave our plantations in good hands, 

and come over again and receive the income of it, and live 

here and enjoy it; and I gave him examples of some that had 

done so, and lived now in very good circumstances in London.



In short, I pressed him so to it, that he almost agreed to it, but 

still something or other broke it off again; till at last he turned 

the tables, and he began to talk almost to the same purpose of 

Ireland.



He told me that a man that could confine himself to country 

life, and that could find but stock to enter upon any land, 

should have farms there for #50 a year, as good as were here 

let for #200 a year; that the produce was such, and so rich the 

land, that if much was not laid up, we were sure to live as 

handsomely upon it as a gentleman of #3000 a year could do 

in England and that he had laid a scheme to leave me in London, 

and go over and try; and if he found he could lay a handsome 

foundation of living suitable to the respect he had for me, as 

he doubted not he should do, he would come over and fetch me.



I was dreadfully afraid that upon such a proposal he would 

have taken me at my word, viz. to sell my little income as I 

called it, and turn it into money, and let him carry it over into 

Ireland and try his experiment with it; but he was too just to 

desire it, or to have accepted it if I had offered it; and he 

anticipated me in that, for he added, that he would go and try 

his fortune that way, and if he found he could do anything at 

it to live, then, by adding mine to it when I went over, we 

should live like ourselves; but that he would not hazard a 

shilling of mine till he had made the experiment with a little, 

and he assured me that if he found nothing to be done in Ireland,

he would then come to me and join in my project for Virginia.



He was so earnest upon his project being to be tried first, that 

I could not withstand him; however, he promised to let me 

hear from him in a very little time after his arriving there, to 

let me know whether his prospect answered his design, that 

if there was not a possibility of success, I might take the 

occasion to prepare for our other voyage, and then, he assured 

me, he would go with me to America with all his heart.



I could bring him to nothing further than this.  However, those 

consultations entertained us near a month, during which I 

enjoyed his company, which indeed was the most entertaining 

that ever I met in my life before.  In this time he let me into 

the whole story of his own life, which was indeed surprising, 

and full of an infinite variety sufficient to fill up a much brighter 

history, for its adventures and incidents, than any I ever say in 

print; but I shall have occasion to say more of him hereafter.



We parted at last, though with the utmost reluctance on my 

side; and indeed he took his leave very unwillingly too, but 

necessity obliged him, for his reasons were very good why he 

would not come to London, as I understood more fully some 

time afterwards.



I gave him a direction how to write to me, though still I 

reserved the grand secret, and never broke my resolution, 

which was not to let him ever know my true name, who I was, 

or where to be found; he likewise let me know how to write a 

letter to him, so that, he said, he would be sure to receive it.



I came to London the next day after we parted, but did not go 

directly to my old lodgings; but for another nameless reason 

took a private lodging in St. John's Street, or, as it is vulgarly 

called, St. Jones's, near Clerkenwell; and here, being perfectly 

alone, I had leisure to sit down and reflect seriously upon the 

last seven months' ramble I had made, for I had been abroad 

no less.  The pleasant hours I had with my last husband I looked 

back on with an infinite deal of pleasure; but that pleasure was 

very much lessened when I found some time after that I was 

really with child.



This was a perplexing thing, because of the difficulty which 

was before me where I should get leave to lie in; it being one of 

the nicest things in the world at that time of day for a woman 

that was a stranger, and had no friends, to be entertained in 

that circumstance without security, which, by the way, I had 

not, neither could I procure any.



I had taken care all this while to preserve a correspondence 

with my honest friend at the bank, or rather he took care to 

correspond with me, for he wrote to me once a week; and 

though I had not spent my money so fast as to want any from 

him, yet I often wrote also to let him know I was alive.  I had 

left directions in Lancashire, so that I had these letters, which 

he sent, conveyed to me; and during my recess at St. Jones's 

received a very obliging letter from him, assuring me that his 

process for a divorce from his wife went on with success, 

though he met with some difficulties in it that he did not expect.



I was not displeased with the news that his process was more 

tedious than he expected; for though I was in no condition to 

have him yet, not being so foolish to marry him when I knew 

myself to be with child by another man, as some I know have 

ventured to do, yet I was not willing to lose him, and, in a 

word, resolved to have him if he continued in the same mind, 

as soon as I was up again; for I saw apparently I should hear 

no more from my husband; and as he had all along pressed to 

marry, and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at 

it, or ever offer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to 

resolve to do it if I could, and if my other friend stood to his 

bargain; and I had a great deal of reason to be assured that he 

would stand to it, by the letters he wrote to me, which were 

the kindest and most obliging that could be.



I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it, 

and began to take notice of it to me, and, as far as civility 

would allow, intimated that I must think of removing.  This 

put me to extreme perplexity, and I grew very melancholy, for 

indeed I knew not what course to take.  I had money, but no 

friends, and was like to have a child upon my hands to keep, 

which was a difficult I had never had upon me yet, as the 

particulars of my story hitherto make appear.



In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy 

really increased my distemper; my illness proved at length to 

be only an ague, but my apprehensions were really that I should 

miscarry.  I should not say apprehensions, for indeed I would 

have been glad to miscarry, but I could never be brought to 

entertain so much as a thought of endeavouring to miscarry, 

or of taking any thing to make me miscarry; I abhorred, I say, 

so much as the thought of it.



However, speaking of it in the house, the gentlewoman who 

kept the house proposed to me to send for a midwife.  I 

scrupled it at first, but after some time consented to it, but 

told her I had no particular acquaintance with any midwife, 

and so left it to her.



It seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger 

to such cases as mine was as I thought at first she had been, 

as will appear presently, and she sent for a midwife of the 

right sort--that is to say, the right sort for me.



The woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her 

business, I mean as a midwife; but she had another calling too, 

in which she was as expert as most women if not more.  My 

landlady had told her I was very melancholy, and that she 

believed that had done me harm; and once, before me, said to 

her, 'Mrs. B----' (meaning the midwife), 'I believe this lady's 

trouble is of a kind that is pretty much in your way, and 

therefore if you can do anything for her, pray do, for she is a 

very civil gentlewoman'; and so she went out of the room.



I really did not understand her, but my Mother Midnight began 

very seriously to explain what she mean, as soon as she was 

gone.  'Madam,' says she, 'you seem not to understand what 

your landlady means; and when you do understand it, you need 

not let her know at all that you do so.



'She means that you are under some circumstances that may 

render your lying in difficult to you, and that you are not willing 

to be exposed.  I need say no more, but to tell you, that if you 

think fit to communicate so much of your case to me, if it be so, 

as is necessary, for I do not desire to pry into those things, I 

perhaps may be in a position to help you and to make you 

perfectly easy, and remove all your dull thoughts upon that 

subject.'



Every word this creature said was a cordial to me, and put 

new life and new spirit into my heart; my blood began to 

circulate immediately, and I was quite another body; I ate my 

victuals again, and grew better presently after it.  She said a 

great deal more to the same purpose, and then, having pressed 

me to be free with her, and promised in the solemnest manner 

to be secret, she stopped a little, as if waiting to see what 

impression it made on me, and what I would say.



I was to sensible too the want I was in of such a woman, not 

to accept her offer; I told her my case was partly as she 

guessed, and partly not, for I was really married, and had a 

husband, though he was in such fine circumstances and so 

remote at that time, as that he could not appear publicly.



She took me short, and told me that was none of her business; 

all the ladies that came under her care were married women 

to her.  'Every woman,' she says, 'that is with child has a father 

for it,' and whether that father was a husband or no husband, 

was no business of hers; her business was to assist me in my 

present circumstances, whether I had a husband or no.  'For, 

madam,' says she, 'to have a husband that cannot appear, is 

to have no husband in the sense of the case; and, therefore, 

whether you are a wife or a mistress is all one to me.'



I found presently, that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was 

to pass for a whore here, so I let that go.  I told her it was 

true, as she said, but that, however, if I must tell her my case, 

I must tell it her as it was; so I related it to her as short as I 

could, and I concluded it to her thus.  'I trouble you with all 

this, madam,' said I, 'not that, as you said before, it is much 

to the purpose in your affair, but this is to the purpose, namely, 

that I am not in any pain about being seen, or being public or 

concealed, for 'tis perfectly indifferent to me; but my difficulty 

is, that I have no acquaintance in this part of the nation.'



'I understand you, madam' says she; 'you have no security to 

bring to prevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, 

and perhaps,' says she, 'do not know very well how to dispose 

of the child when it comes.'  'The last,' says I, 'is not so much 

my concern as the first.'  'Well, madam,' answered the midwife, 

'dare you put yourself into my hands?  I live in such a place; 

though I do not inquire after you, you may inquire after me.  

My name is B----; I live in such a street'--naming the street--'

at the sign of the Cradle.  My profession is a midwife, and I 

have many ladies that come to my house to lie in.  I have given 

security to the parish in general terms to secure them from any 

charge from whatsoever shall come into the world under my 

roof.  I have but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam,' 

says she, 'and if that be answered you shall be entirely easy for 

all the rest.'



I presently understood what she meant, and told her, 'Madam, 

I believe I understand you.  I thank God, though I want friends 

in this part of the world, I do not want money, so far as may 

be necessary, though I do not abound in that neither':  this I 

added because I would not make her expect great things.  

'Well, madam,' says she, 'that is the thing indeed, without 

which nothing can be done in these cases; and yet,' says she, 

'you shall see that I will not impose upon you, or offer anything 

that is unkind to you, and if you desire it, you shall know 

everything beforehand, that you may suit yourself to the 

occasion, and be neither costly or sparing as you see fit.'



I told her she seemed to be so perfectly sensible of my condition, 

that I had nothing to ask of her but this, that as I had told her 

that I had money sufficient, but not a great quantity, she would 

order it so that I might be at as little superfluous charge as 

possible.



She replied that she would bring in an account of the expenses 

of it in two or three shapes, and like a bill of fare, I should 

choose as I pleased; and I desired her to do so.



The next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills 

was a follows:--





1.  For three months' lodging in her house, including 

my diet, at 10s. a week . . . . . .6#, 0s., 0d.



2. For a nurse for the month, and use of childbed 

linen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1#, 10s., 0d.



3. For a minister to christen the child, and to the 

godfathers and clerk . . . . . . . .1#, 10s., 0d.



4. For a supper at the christening if I had five friends 

at it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1#, 0s., 0d.



For her fees as a midwife, and the taking off the 

trouble of the parish . . . . . . . . 3#, 3s., 0d.



To her maid servant attending . 0#, 10s., 0d.

                                                ________________

                                                 13#, 13s. 0d



This was the first bill; the second was the same terms:--



1. For three months' lodging and diet, etc., at 20s.

per week . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .13#, 0s., 0d.



2. For a nurse for the month, and the use of linen 

and lace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2#, 10s., 0d.



3. For the minister to christen the child, etc., as 

above . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2#, 0s., 0d.



4. For supper and for sweetmeats

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3#, 3s., 0d.



For her fees as above . . . . . . 5#, 5s., 0d.



For a servant-maid . . . . . . . . 1#, 0s., 0d.

                                              _______________

                                               26#, 18s., 0d



This was the second-rate bill; the third, she said, was for 

a degree higher, and when the father or friends appeared:-- 



1. For three months' lodging and diet, having two 

rooms and a garret for a servant . . 30#, 0s., 0d.,



2. For a nurse for the month, and the finest suit 

of childbed linen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4#, 4s., 0d.



3. For the minister to christen the child, etc. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2#, 10s., 0d.



4. For a super, the gentlemen to send in the 

wine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6#, 0s., 0d.



For my fees, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10#, 10s., 0d.



The maid, besides their own maid, only

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0#, 10s., 0d.

                                                      _________________

                                                       53#, 14s., 0d.





I looked upon all three bills, and smiled, and told her I did not 

see but that she was very reasonable in her demands, all things 

considered, and for that I did not doubt but her  accommodations 

were good.



She told me I should be judge of that when I saw them.  I told 

her I was sorry to tell her that I geared I must be her lowest- 

rated customer.  'And perhaps, madam,' said I, 'you will make 

me the less welcome upon that account.'  'No, not at all,' said 

she; 'for where I have one of the third sort I have two of the 

second, and four to one of the first, and I get as much by them 

in proportion as by any; but if you doubt my care of you, I will 

allow any friend you have to overlook and see if you are well 

waited on or no.'



Then she explained the particulars of her bill.  'In the first place, 

madam,' said she, 'I would have you observe that here is three 

months' keeping; you are but ten shillings a week; I undertake 

to say you will not complain of my table.  I suppose,' says she, 

'you do not live cheaper where you are now?'  'No, indeed,' 

said I, 'not so cheap, for I give six shillings per week for my 

chamber, and find my own diet as well as I can, which costs 

me a great deal more.'



'Then, madam,' says she, 'if the child should not live, or should 

be dead-born, as you know sometimes happens, then there is 

the minister's article saved; and if you have no friends to come 

to you, you may save the expense of a supper; so that take those 

articles out, madam,' says she, 'your lying in will not cost you 

above #5, 3s. in all more than your ordinary charge of  living.'



This was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of; so I 

smiled, and told her I would come and be her customer; but I 

told her also, that as I had two months and more to do, I might 

perhaps be obliged to stay longer with her than three months, 

and desired to know if she would not be obliged to remove me 

before it was proper.  No, she said; her house was large, and 

besides, she never put anybody to remove, that had lain in, till 

they were willing to go; and if she had more ladies offered, she 

was not so ill-beloved among her neighbours but she could 

provide accommodations for twenty, if there was occasion.



I found she was an eminent lady in her way; and, in short, I 

agreed to put myself into her hands, and promised her.  She 

then talked of other things, looked about into my accommodations 

where I was, found fault with my wanting attendance and 

conveniences, and that I should not be used so at her house.  

I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman of the house 

looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had been ill, 

because I was with child; and I was afraid she would put some 

affront or other upon me, supposing that I had been able to 

give but a slight account of myself.



'Oh dear,' said she, 'her ladyship is no stranger to these things; 

she has tried to entertain ladies in your condition several times, 

but she could not secure the parish; and besides, she is not such a 

nice lady as you take her to be; however, since you are a-going, 

you shall not meddle with her, but I'll see you are a little better 

looked after while you are here than I think you are, and it shall 

not cost you the more neither.'



I did not understand her at all; however, I thanked her, and  so 

we parted.  The next morning she sent me a chicken roasted 

and hot, and a pint bottle of sherry, and ordered the maid to 

tell me that she was to wait on me every day as long as I stayed 

there.



This was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very 

willingly.  At night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted 

anything, and how I did, and to order the maid to come to her 

in the morning with my dinner.  The maid  had orders to make 

me some chocolate in the morning before she came away, and 

did so, and at noon she brought me the sweetbread of a breast 

of veal, whole, and a dish of soup for my dinner; and after this 

manner she nursed me up at a distance, so that I was mightily 

well pleased, and quickly well, for indeed my dejections before 

were the principal part of my illness.



I expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the 

servant she sent me would have been some imprudent brazen 

wench of Drury Lane breeding, and I was very uneasy at having 

her with me upon that account; so I would not let her lie in 

that house the first night by any means, but had my eyes about 

me as narrowly as if she had been a public thief.



My gentlewoman guessed presently what was the matter, and 

sent her back with a short note, that I might depend upon the 

honesty of her maid; that she would be answerable for her upon 

all accounts; and that she took no servants into her house 

without very good security for their fidelity.  I was then perfectly 

easy; and indeed the maid's behaviour spoke for itself, for a 

modester, quieter, soberer girl never came into anybody's family, 

and I found her so afterwards.



As soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the 

maid to see the house, and to see the apartment I was to have; 

and everything was so handsome and so clean and well, that, 

in short, I had nothing to say, but was wonderfully pleased 

and satisfied with what I had met with, which, considering 

the melancholy circumstances I was in, was far beyond what 

I looked for.



It might be expected that I should give some account of the 

nature of the wicked practices of this woman, in whose hands 

I was now fallen; but it would be too much encouragement to 

the vice, to let the world see what easy measures were here 

taken to rid the women's unwelcome burthen of a child 

clandestinely gotten.  This grave matron had several sorts of 

practice, and this was one particular, that if a child was born, 

though not in her house (for she had occasion to be called to 

many private labours), she had people at hand, who for a piece 

of money would take the child off their hands, and off from 

the hands of the parish too; and those children, as she said, 

were honestly provided for and taken care of.  What should 

become of them all, considering so many, as by her account 

she was concerned with, I cannot conceive.



I had many times discourses upon that subject with her; but 

she was full of this argument, that she save the life of many an 

innocent lamb, as she called them, which would otherwise 

perhaps have been murdered; and of many women who, made 

desperate by the misfortune, would otherwise be tempted to 

destroy their children, and bring themselves to the gallows.  I 

granted her that this was true, and a very commendable thing, 

provided the poor children fell into good hands afterwards, 

and were not abused, starved, and neglected by the nurses 

that bred them up.  She answered, that she always took care 

of that, and had no nurses in her business but what were very 

good, honest people, and such as might be depended upon.



I could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, 

'Madam, I do not question you do your part honestly, but what 

those people do afterwards is the main question'; and she 

stopped my mouth again with saying that she took the utmost 

care about it.



The only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects 

that gave me any distaste, was, that one time in discouraging 

about my being far gone with child, and the time I expected 

to come, she said something that looked as if she could help 

me off with my burthen sooner, if I was willing; or, in English, 

that she could give me something to make me miscarry, if I 

had a desire to put an end to my troubles that way; but I soon 

let her see that I abhorred the thoughts of it; and, to do her 

justice, she put it off so cleverly, that I could not say she really 

intended it, or whether she only mentioned the practice as a 

horrible thing; for she couched her words so well, and took my 

meaning so quickly, that she gave her negative before I could 

explain myself.



To bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted 

my lodging at St. Jones's and went to my new governess, for 

so they called her in the house, and there I was indeed treated 

with so much courtesy, so carefully looked to, so handsomely 

provided, and everything so well, that I was surprised at it, and 

could not at first see what advantage my governess made of it; 

but I found afterwards that she professed to make no profit of 

lodgers' diet, nor indeed could she get much by it, but that 

her profit lay in the other articles of her management, and she 

made enough that way, I assure you; for 'tis scarce credible 

what practice she had, as well abroad as at home, and yet all 

upon the private account, or, in plain English, the whoring 

account.



While I was in her house, which was near four months, she 

had no less than twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within 

the doors, and I think she had two-and-thirty, or thereabouts, 

under her conduct without doors, whereof one, as nice as she 

was with me, was lodged with my old landlady at St. Jones's.



This was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, 

and such a one, that as bad as I had been myself, it shocked 

my very senses.  I began to nauseate the place I was in and, 

about all, the wicked practice; and yet I must say that I never 

saw, or do I believe there was to be seen, the least indecency 

in the house the whole time I was there.



Not a man was ever seen to come upstairs, except to visit the 

lying-in ladies within their month, nor then without the old lady 

with them, who made it a piece of honour of her management 

that no man should touch a woman, no, not his own wife, within 

the month; nor would she permit any man to lie in the house 

upon any pretence whatever, no, not though she was sure it 

was with his own wife; and her general saying for it was, that 

she cared not how many children were born in her house, but 

she would have none got there if she could help it.



It might perhaps be carried further than was needful, but it was 

an error of the right hand if it was an error, for by this she kept 

up the reputation, such as it was, of her business, and obtained 

this character, that though she did take care of the women when 

they were debauched, yet she was not instrumental to their being 

debauched at all; and yet it was a wicked trade she drove too.



While I was there, and before I was brought to bed, I received 

a letter from my trustee at the bank, full of kind, obliging things, 

and earnestly pressing me to return to London.  It was near a 

fortnight old when it came to me, because it had been first sent 

into Lancashire, and then returned to me.  He concludes with 

telling me that he had obtained a decree, I think he called it, 

against his wife, and that he would be ready to make good his 

engagement to me, if I would accept of him, adding a great 

many protestations of kindness and affection, such as he would 

have been far from offering if he had known the circumstances 

I had been in, and which as it was I had been very far from 

deserving.



I returned an answer to his letter, and dated it at Liverpool, 

but sent it by messenger, alleging that it came in cover to a 

friend in town.  I gave him joy of his deliverance, but raised 

some scruples at the lawfulness of his marrying again, and told 

him I supposed he would consider very seriously upon that 

point before he resolved on it, the consequence being too great 

for a man of his judgment to venture rashly upon a thing of that 

nature; so concluded, wishing him very well in whatever he 

resolved, without letting him into anything of my own mind, 

or giving any answer to his proposal of my coming to London 

to him, but mentioned at a distance my intention to return the 

latter end of the year, this being dated in April. 



I was brought to bed about the middle of May and had another 

brave boy, and myself in as good condition as usual on such 

occasions.  My governess did her part as a midwife with the 

greatest art and dexterity imaginable, and far beyond all that 

ever I had had any experience of before.



Her care of me in my travail, and after in my lying in, was 

such, that if she had been my own mother it could not have 

been better.  Let none be encouraged in their loose practices 

from this dexterous lady's management, for she is gone to her 

place, and I dare say has left nothing behind her that can or 

will come up on it.



I think I had been brought to bed about twenty-two days when 

I received another letter from my friend at the bank, with the 

surprising news that he had obtained a final sentence of divorce 

against his wife, and had served her with it on such a day, and 

that he had such an answer to give to all my scruples about his 

marrying again, as I could not expect, and as he had no desire 

of; for that his wife, who had been under some remorse before 

for her usage of him, as soon as she had the account that he 

had gained his point, had very unhappily destroyed herself that 

same evening.



He expressed himself very handsomely as to his being concerned 

at her disaster, but cleared himself of having any hand in it, 

and that he had only done himself justice in a case in which he 

was notoriously injured and abused.  However, he said that 

he was extremely afflicted at it, and had no view of any 

satisfaction left in his world, but only in the hope that I would 

come and relieve him by my company; and then he pressed me 

violently indeed to give him some hopes that I would at least 

come up to town and let him see me, when he would further 

enter into discourse about it.



I was exceedingly surprised at the news, and began now  

seriously to reflect on my present circumstances, and the 

inexpressible misfortune it was to me to have a child upon my 

hands, and what to do in it I knew not.  At last I opened my 

case at a distance to my governess.  I appeared melancholy 

and uneasy for several days, and she lay at me continually to 

know what trouble me.  I could not for my life tell her that I 

had an offer of marriage, after I had so often told her that I 

had a husband, so that I really knew not what to say to her.  I 

owned I had something which very much troubled me, but at 

the same time told her I could not speak of it to any one alive.



She continued importuning me several days, but it was 

impossible, I told her, for me to commit the secret to anybody.  

This, instead of being an answer to her, increased her 

importunities; she urged her having been trusted with the 

greatest secrets of this nature, that it was her business to 

conceal everything, and that to discover things of that nature 

would be her ruin.  She asked me if ever I had found her tattling 

to me of other people's affairs, and how could I suspect her?  

She told me, to unfold myself to her was telling it to nobody; 

that she was silent as death; that it must be a very strange case 

indeed that she could not help me out of; but to conceal it was 

to deprive myself of all possible help, or means of help, and to 

deprive her of the opportunity of serving me.  In short, she had 

such a bewitching eloquence, and so great a power of persuasion 

that there was no concealing anything from her.



So I resolved to unbosom myself to her.  I told her the history 

of my Lancashire marriage, and how both of us had been 

disappointed; how we came together, and how we parted; how 

he absolutely discharged me, as far as lay in him, free liberty to 

marry again, protesting that if he knew it he would never claim 

me, or disturb or expose me; that I thought I was free, but was 

dreadfully afraid to venture, for fear of the consequences that 

might follow in case of a discovery.



Then I told her what a good offer I had; showed her my friend's 

two last letters, inviting me to come to London, and let her see 

with what affection and earnestness they were written, but 

blotted out the name, and also the story about the disaster of 

his wife, only that she was dead.



She fell a-laughing at my scruples about marrying, and told 

me the other was no marriage, but a cheat on both sides; and 

that, as we were parted by mutual consent, the nature of the 

contract was destroyed, and the obligation was mutually 

discharged.  She had arguments for this at the tip of her tongue; 

and, in short, reasoned me out of my reason; not but that it 

was too by the help of my own inclination.



But then came the great and main difficulty, and that was the 

child; this, she told me in so many words, must be removed, 

and that so as that it should never be possible for any one to 

discover it.  I knew there was no marrying without entirely 

concealing that I had had a child, for he would soon have 

discovered by the age of it that it was born, nay, and gotten 

too, since my parley with him, and that would have destroyed 

all the affair.



But it touched my heart so forcibly to think of parting entirely 

with the child, and, for aught I knew, of having it murdered, 

or starved by neglect and ill-usage (which was much the same), 

that I could not think of it without horror.  I wish all those 

women who consent to the disposing their children out of the 

way, as it is called, for decency sake, would consider that 'tis 

only a contrived method for murder; that is to say, a-killing 

their children with safety.



It is manifest to all that understand anything of children, that 

we are born into the world helpless, and incapable either to 

supply our own wants or so much as make them known; and 

that without help we must perish; and this help requires not 

only an assisting hand, whether of the mother or somebody 

else, but there are two things necessary in that assisting  hand, 

that is, care and skill; without both which, half the children 

that are born would die, nay, thought they were not to be 

denied food; and one half more of those that remained would 

be cripples or fools, lose their limbs, and perhaps their sense.  

I question not but that these are partly the reasons why affection 

was placed by nature in the hearts of mothers to their children; 

without which they would never be able to give themselves up, 

as 'tis necessary they should, to the care and waking pains 

needful to the support of their children.



Since this care is needful to the life of children, to neglect them 

is to murder them; again, to give them up to be managed by 

those people who have none of that needful affection placed 

by nature in them, is to neglect them in the highest degree; nay, 

in some it goes farther, and is a neglect in order to their being 

lost; so that 'tis even an intentional murder, whether the child 

lives or dies.



All those things represented themselves to my view, and that 

is the blackest and most frightful form:  and as I was very free 

with my governess, whom I had now learned to call mother, 

I represented to her all the dark thoughts which I had upon 

me about it, and told her what distress I was in.  She seemed 

graver by much at this part than at the other; but as she was 

hardened in these things beyond all possibility of being touched 

with the religious part, and the scruples about the murder, so 

she was equally impenetrable in that part which related to 

affection.  She asked me if she had not been careful and tender 

to me in my lying in, as if I had been her own child.  I told her 

I owned she had.  'Well, my dear,' says she, 'and when you 

are gone, what are you to me?  And what would it be to me 

if you were to be hanged?  Do you think there are not women 

who, as it is their trade and they get their bread by it, value 

themselves upon their being as careful of children as their own 

mothers can be, and understand it rather better?  Yes, yes, 

child,' says she, 'fear it not; how were we nursed ourselves?  

Are you sure you was nursed up by your own mother? and 

yet you look fat and fair, child,' says the old beldam; and with 

that she stroked me over the face.  'Never be concerned, child,' 

says she, going on in her drolling way; 'I have no murderers 

about me; I employ the best and the honestest nurses that can 

be had, and have as few children miscarry under their hands 

as there would if they were all nursed by mothers; we want 

neither care nor skill.'



She touched me to the quick when she asked if I was sure 

that I was nursed by my own mother; on the contrary I was 

sure I was not; and I trembled, and looked pale at the very 

expression.  'Sure,' said I to myself, 'this creature cannot be 

a witch, or have any conversation with a spirit, that can inform 

her what was done with me before I was able to know it myself'; 

and I looked at her as if I had been frightened; but reflecting 

that it could not be possible for her to know anything about 

me, that disorder went off, and I began to be easy, but it was 

not presently.



She perceived the disorder I was in, but did not know the 

meaning of it; so she ran on in her wild talk upon the weakness 

of my supposing that children were murdered because they 

were not all nursed by the mother, and to persuade me that 

the children she disposed of were as well used as if the mothers 

had the nursing of them themselves.



'It may be true, mother,' says I, 'for aught I know, but my 

doubts are very strongly grounded indeed.'  'Come, then,' says 

she, 'let's hear some of them.'  'Why, first,' says I, 'you give 

a piece of money to these people to take the child off the 

parent's hands, and to take care of it as long as it lives.  Now 

we know, mother,' said I, 'that those are poor people, and 

their gain consists in being quit of the charge as soon as they 

can; how can I doubt but that, as it is best for them to have 

the child die, they are not over solicitous about life?'



'This is all vapours and fancy,' says the old woman; 'I tell you 

their credit depends upon the child's life, and they are as careful 

as any mother of you all.'



'O mother,' says I, 'if I was but sure my little baby would be 

carefully looked to, and have justice done it, I should be happy 

indeed; but it is impossible I can be satisfied in that point 

unless I saw it, and to see it would be ruin and destruction to 

me, as now my case stands; so what to do I know not.'



'A fine story!' says the governess.  'You would see the child, 

and you would not see the child; you would be concealed and 

discovered both together.  These are things impossible, my 

dear; so you must e'en do as other conscientious mothers have 

done before you, and be contented with things as they must be, 

though they are not as you wish them to be.'



I understood what she meant by conscientious mothers; she 

would have said conscientious whores, but she was not willing 

to disoblige me, for really in this case I was not a whore, 

because legally married, the force of former marriage excepted.



However, let me be what I would, I was not come up to that 

pitch of hardness common to the profession; I mean, to be 

unnatural, and regardless of the safety of my child; and I 

preserved this honest affection so long, that I was upon the 

point of giving up my friend at the bank, who lay so hard at 

me to come to him and marry him, that, in short, there was 

hardly any room to deny him.



At last my old governess came to me, with her usual assurance.  

'Come, my dear,' says she, 'I have found out a way how you 

shall be at a certainty that your child shall be used well, and 

yet the people that take care of it shall never know you, or 

who the mother of the child is.'



'Oh mother,' says I, 'if you can do so, you will engage me to 

you for ever.'  'Well,' says she, 'are you willing to be a some 

small annual expense, more than what we usually give to the 

people we contract with?'  'Ay,' says I, 'with all my heart, 

provided I may be concealed.'  'As to that,' says the governess, 

'you shall be secure, for the nurse shall never so much as dare 

to inquire about you, and you shall once or twice a year go 

with me and see yourchild, and see how 'tis used, and be 

satisfied that it is in good hands, nobody knowing who you are.'



'Why,' said I, 'do you think, mother, that when I come to see 

my child, I shall be able to conceal my being the mother of it?  

Do you think that possible?'



'Well, well,' says my governess, 'if you discover it, the nurse 

shall be never the wiser; for she shall be forbid to ask any 

questions about you, or to take any notice.  If she offers it, 

she shall lose the money which you are suppose to give her, 

and the child shall be taken from her too.'



I was very well pleased with this.  So the next week a 

countrywoman was brought from Hertford, or thereabouts, 

who was to take the child off our hands entirely for #10 in 

money.  But if I would allow #5 a year more of her, she would 

be obliged to bring the child to my governess's house as often 

as we desired, or we should come down and look at it, and see 

how well she used it.



The woman was very wholesome-looking, a likely woman, 

a cottager's wife, but she had very good clothes and linen, and 

everything well about her; and with a heavy heart and many a 

tear, I let her have my child.  I had been down at Hertford, and 

looked at her and at her dwelling, which I liked well enough; 

and I promised her great things if she would be kind to the 

child, so she knew at first word that I was the child's mother.  

But she seemed to be so much out of the way, and to have no 

room to inquire after me, that I thought I was safe enough.  

So, in short, I consented to let her have the child, and I gave 

her #10; that is to say, I gave it to my governess, who gave it 

the poor woman before my face, she agreeing never to return 

the child back to me, or to claim anything more for its keeping 

or bringing up; only that I promised, if she took a great deal 

of care of it, I would give her something more as often as I 

came to see it; so that I was not bound to pay the #5, only 

that I promised my governess I would do it.  And thus my 

great care was over, after a manner, which though it did not 

at all satisfy my mind, yet was the most convenient for me, 

as my affairs then stood, of any that could be thought of at 

that time.



I then began to write to my friend at the bank in a more kindly 

style, and particularly about the beginning of July I sent him a 

letter, that I proposed to be in town some time in August.  He  

returned me an answer in the most passionate terms imaginable, 

and desired me to let him have timely notice, and he would 

come and meet me, two day's journey.  This puzzled me scurvily, 

and I did not know what answer to make of it.  Once I resolved 

to take the stage-coach to West Chester, on purpose only to 

have the satisfaction of coming back, that he might see me 

really come in the same coach; for I had a jealous thought, 

though I had no ground for it at all, lest he should think I was 

not really in the country.  And it was no ill-grounded thought 

as you shall hear presently.



I endeavoured to reason myself out of it, but it was in vain; 

the impression lay so strong on my mind, that it was not to 

be resisted.  At last it came as an addition to my new design 

of going into the country, that it would be an excellent blind 

to my old governess, and would cover entirely all my other 

affairs, for she did not know in the least whether my new lover 

lived in London or in Lancashire; and when I told her my 

resolution, she was fully persuaded it was in Lancashire.



Having taken my measure for this journey I let her know it, 

and sent the maid that tended me, from the beginning, to take 

a place for me in the coach.  She would have had me let the 

maid have waited on me down to the last stage, and come up 

again in the waggon, but I convinced her it would not be 

convenient.  When I went away, she told me she would enter 

into no measures for correspondence, for she saw evidently 

that my affection to my child would cause me to write to her, 

and to visit her too when I came to town again.  I assured her 

it would, and so took my leave, well satisfied to have been 

freed from such a house, however good my accommodations 

there had been, as I have related above.



I took the place in the coach not to its full extent, but to a  

place called Stone, in Cheshire, I think it is, where I not only 

had no manner of business, but not so much as the least 

acquaintance with any person in the town or near it.  But I 

knew that with money in the pocket one is at home anywhere; 

so I lodged there two or three days, till, watching my opportunity, 

I found room in another stage-coach, and took passage back 

again for London, sending a letter to my gentleman that I should 

be such a certain day at Stony-Stratford, where the coachman 

told me he was to lodge.



It happened to be a chance coach that I had taken up, which, 

having been hired on purpose to carry some gentlemen to West 

Chester who were going for Ireland, was now returning, and 

did not tie itself to exact times or places as the stages did; so 

that, having been obliged to lie still on Sunday, he had time to 

get himself ready to come out, which otherwise he could not 

have done.



However, his warning was so short, that he could not reach 

to Stony-Stratford time enough to be with me at night, but he 

met me at a place called Brickhill the next morning, as we 

were just coming in to tow.



I confess I was very glad to see him, for I had thought myself 

a little disappointed over-night, seeing I had gone so far to 

contrive my coming on purpose.  He pleased me doubly too 

by the figure he came in, for he brought a very handsome 

(gentleman's) coach and four horses, with a servant to attend 

him.



He took me out of the stage-coach immediately, which stopped 

at an inn in Brickhill; and putting into the same in, he set up 

his own coach, and bespoke his dinner.  I asked him what he 

meant by that, for I was for going forward with the journey.  

He said, No, I had need of a little rest upon the road, and that 

was a very good sort of a house, though it was but a little town; 

so we would go no farther that night, whatever came of it.



I did not press him much, for since he had come so to meet 

me, and put himself to so much expense, it was but reasonable 

I should oblige him a little too; so I was easy as to that point. 



After dinner we walked to see the town, to see the church, 

and to view the fields, and the country, as is usual for strangers 

to do; and our landlord was our guide in going to see the 

church. I observed my gentleman inquired pretty much about 

the parson, and I took the hint immediately that he certainly 

would propose to be married; and though it was a sudden 

thought, it followed presently, that, in short, I would not refuse 

him; for, to be plain, with my circumstances I was in no 

condition now to say No; I had no reason now to run any more 

such hazards.



But while these thoughts ran round in my head, which was the 

work but of a few moments, I observed my landlord took him 

aside and whispered to him, though not very softly neither, for 

so much I overheard:  'Sir, if you shall have occasion----' the 

rest I could not hear, but it seems it was to this purpose:  'Sir, 

if you shall have occasion for a minister, I have a friend a little 

way off that will serve you, and be as private as you please.'  

My gentleman answered loud enough for me to hear, 'Very 

well, I believe I shall.'



I was no sooner come back to the inn but he fell upon me with 

irresistible words, that since he had had the good fortune to 

meet me, and everything concurred, it would be hastening his 

felicity if I would put an end to the matter just there.  'What 

do you mean?' says I, colouring a little.  'What, in an inn, and 

upon the road!  Bless us all,' said I, as if I had been surprised, 

'how can you talk so?'  'Oh, I can talk so very well,' says he, 

'I came a-purpose to talk so, and I'll show you that I did'; and 

with that he pulls out a great bundle of papers.  'You fright me,' 

said I; 'what are all these?'  'Don't be frighted, my dear,' said 

he, and kissed me.  This was the first time that he had been so 

free to call me 'my dear'; then he repeated it, 'Don't be frighted; 

you shall see what it is all'; then he laid them all abroad.  There 

was first the deed or sentence of divorce from his wife, and 

the full evidence of her playing the whore; then there were the 

certificates of the minister and churchwardens of the parish 

where she lived, proving that she was buried, and intimating 

the manner of her death; the copy of the coroner's warrant for 

a jury to sit upon her, and the verdict of the jury, who brought 

it in Non compos mentis.  All this was indeed to the purpose, 

and to give me satisfaction, though, by the way, I was not so 

scrupulous, had he known all, but that I might have taken him 

without it.  However, I looked them all over as well as I could, 

and told him that this was all very clear indeed, but that he 

need not have given himself the trouble to have brought them 

out with him, for it was time enough.  Well, he said, it might 

be time enough for me, but notime but the present time was 

time enough for him.



There were other papers rolled up, and I asked him what they 

were.  'Why, ay,' says he, 'that's the question I wanted to have 

you ask me'; so he unrolls them and takes out a little shagreen 

case, and gives me out of it a very fine diamond ring.  I could 

not refuse it, if I had a mind to do so, for he put it upon my 

finger; so I made him a curtsy and accepted it.  Then he takes 

out another ring:  'And this,' says he, 'is for another occasion,' 

so he puts that in his pocket.  'Well, but let me see it, though,' 

says I, and smiled; 'I guess what it is; I think you are mad.'  

'I should have been mad if I had done less,' says he, and still 

he did not show me, and I had a great mind to see it; so I says, 

'Well, but let me see it.'  'Hold,' says he, 'first look here'; 

then he took up the roll again and read it, and behold! it was 

a licence for us to be married.  'Why,' says I, 'are you distracted?  

Why, you were fully satisfied that I would comply and yield 

at first word, or resolved to take no denial.'  'The last is 

certainly the case,' said he.  'But you may be mistaken,' said I.  

'No, no,' says he, 'how can you think so?  I must not be denied, 

I can't be denied'; and with that he fell to kissing me so violently, 

I could not get rid of him.



There was a bed in the room, and we were walking to and 

again, eager in the discourse; at last he takes me by surprise 

in his arms, and threw me on the bed and himself with me, 

and holding me fast in his arms, but without the least offer of 

any indecency, courted me to consent with such repeated 

entreaties and arguments, protesting his affection, and vowing 

he would not let me go till I had promised him, that at last I 

said, 'Why, you resolve not to be denied, indeed, I can't be 

denied.'  'Well, well,' said I, and giving him a slight kiss, 'then 

you shan't be denied,' said I; 'let me get up.'



He was so transported with my consent, and the kind manner 

of it, that I began to think once he took it for a marriage, and 

would not stay for the form; but I wronged him, for he gave 

over kissing me, and then giving me two or three kisses again, 

thanked me for my kind yielding to him; and was so overcome 

with the satisfaction and joy of it, that I saw tears stand in his eyes.



I turned from him, for it filled my eyes with tears too, and I 

asked him leave to retire a little to my chamber.  If ever I had 

a grain of true repentance for a vicious and abominable life 

for twenty-four years past, it was then.  On, what a felicity is 

it to mankind, said I to myself, that they cannot see into the 

hearts of one another!  How happy had it been for me if I had 

been wife to a man of so much honesty, and so much affection 

from the beginning!



Then it occurred to me, 'What an abominable creature am I! 

and how is this innocent gentleman going to be abused by me!  

How little does he think, that having divorced a whore, he is 

throwing himself into the arms of another! that he is going to 

marry one that has lain with two brothers, and has had three 

children by her own brother! one that was born in Newgate, 

whose mother was a whore, and is now a transported thief! 

one that has lain with thirteen men, and has had a child since 

he saw me!  Poor gentleman!' said I, 'what is he going to do?'  

After this reproaching myself was over, it following thus:  

'Well, if I must be his wife, if it please God to give me grace, 

I'll be a true wife to him, and love him suitably to the strange 

excess of his passion for me; I will make him amends if possible,

 by what he shall see, for the cheats and abuses I put upon him, 

which he does not see.'



He was impatient for my coming out of my chamber, but 

finding me long, he went downstairs and talked with my 

landlord about the parson.



My landlord, an officious though well-meaning fellow, had sent 

away for the neighbouring clergyman; and when my gentleman 

began to speak of it to him, and talk of sending for him, 'Sir,' 

says he to him, 'my friend is in the house'; so without any more 

words he brought them together.  When he came to the minister, 

he asked him if he would venture to marry a couple of strangers 

that were both willing.  The parson said that Mr.---- had said 

something to him of it; that he hoped it was no clandestine 

business; that he seemed to be a grave gentleman, and he 

supposed madam was not a girl, so that the consent of friends 

should be wanted.  'To put you out of doubt of that,' says my 

gentleman, 'read this paper'; and out he pulls the license.  'I 

am satisfied,' says the minister; 'where is the lady?'  'You 

shall see her presently,' says my gentleman.



When he had said thus he comes upstairs, and I was by that 

time come out of my room; so he tells me the minister was 

below, and that he had talked with him, and that upon showing 

him the license, he was free to marry us with all his heart, 'but 

he asks to see you'; so he asked if I would let him come up.



''Tis time enough,' said I, 'in the morning, is it not?'  'Why,' 

said he, 'my dear, he seemed to scruple whether it was not 

some young girl stolen from her parents, and I assured him we 

were both of age to command our own consent; and that made 

him ask to see you.'  'Well,' said I, 'do as you please'; so up 

they brings the parson, and a merry, good sort of gentleman 

he was.  He had been told, it seems, that we had met there by 

accident, that I came in the Chester coach, and my gentleman 

in his own coach to meet me; that we were to have met last 

night at Stony-Stratford, but that he could not reach so far.  

'Well, sir,' says the parson, 'every ill turn has some good in it.  

The disappointment, sir,' says he to my gentleman, 'was yours, 

and the good turn is mine, for if you had met at Stony-Stratford 

I had not had the honour to marry you.  Landlord, have you a 

Common Prayer Book?'



I started as if I had been frightened.  'Lord, sir,' says I, 'what 

do you mean?  What, to marry in an inn, and at night too?'  

'Madam,' says the minister, 'if you will have it be in the church, 

you shall; but I assure you your marriage will be as firm here 

as in the church; we are not tied by the canons to marry nowhere 

but in the church; and if you will have it in the church, it 

will be a public as a county fair; and as for the time of day, it 

does not at all weigh in this case; our princes are married in 

their chambers, and at eight or ten o'clock at night.'



I was a great while before I could be persuaded, and pretended 

not to be willing at all to be married but in the church.  But 

it was all grimace; so I seemed at last to be prevailed on, and 

my landlord and his wife and daughter were called up.  My 

landlord was father and clerk and all together, and we were 

married, and very merry we were; though I confess the  

self-reproaches which I had upon me before lay close to me, 

and extorted every now and then a deep sigh from me, which 

my bridegroom took notice of, and endeavoured to encourage 

me, thinking, poor man, that I had some little hesitations at 

the step I had taken so hastily.



We enjoyed ourselves that evening completely, and yet all was 

kept so private in the inn that not a servant in the house knew 

of it, for my landlady and her daughter waited on me, and 

would not let any of the maids come upstairs, except while we 

were at supper.  My landlady's daughter I called my bridesmaid; 

and sending for a shopkeeper the next morning, I gave the young 

woman a good suit of knots, as good as the town would afford, 

and finding it was a lace-making town, I gave her mother a 

piece of bone-lace for a head.



One reason that my landlord was so close was, that he was 

unwilling the minister of the parish should hear of it; but for 

all that somebody heard of it, so at that we had the bells set 

a-ringing the next morning early, and the music, such as the 

town would afford, under our window; but my landlord 

brazened it out, that we were married before we came thither, 

only that, being his former guests, we would have our 

wedding-supper at his house.



We could not find in our hearts to stir the next day; for, in 

short, having been disturbed by the bells in the morning, and 

having perhaps not slept overmuch before, we were so sleepy 

afterwards that we lay in bed till almost twelve o'clock.



I begged my landlady that we might not have any more music 

in the town, nor ringing of bells, and she managed it so well 

that we were very quiet; but an odd passage interrupted all my 

mirth for a good while.  The great room of the house looked 

into the street, and my new spouse being belowstairs, I had 

walked to the end of the room; and it being a pleasant, warm 

day, I had opened the window, and was standing at it for some 

air, when I saw three gentlemen come by on horseback and go 

into an inn just against us.



It was not to be concealed, nor was it so doubtful as to leave 

me any room to question it, but the second of the three was 

my Lancashire husband.  I was frightened to death; I never 

was in such a consternation in my life; I though I should have 

sunk into the ground; my blood ran chill in my veins, and I 

trembled as if I had been in a cold fit of ague.  I say, there 

was no room to question the truth of it; I knew his clothes, I 

knew his horse, and I knew his face.



The first sensible reflect I made was, that my husband was 

not by to see my disorder, and that I was very glad of it.  The 

gentlemen had not been long in the house but they came to 

the window of their room, as is usual; but my window was 

shut, you may be sure.  However, I could not keep from 

peeping at them, and there I saw him again, heard him call out 

to one of the servants of the house for something he wanted, 

and received all the terrifying confirmations of its being the 

same person that were possible to be had.



My next concern was to know, if possible, what was his business 

there; but that was impossible.  Sometimes my imagination 

formed an idea of one frightful thing, sometimes of another; 

sometime I thought he had discovered me, and was come to 

upbraid me with ingratitude and breach of honour; and every 

moment I fancied he was coming up the stairs to insult me; and 

innumerable fancies came into my head of what was never in 

his head, nor ever could be, unless the devil had revealed it to 

him.



I remained in this fright nearly two hours, and scarce ever kept 

my eye from the window or door of the inn where they were.  

At last, hearing a great clatter in the passage of their inn, I ran 

to the window, and, to my great satisfaction, saw them all three 

go out again and travel on westward.  Had they gone towards 

London, I should have been still in a fright, lest I should meet 

him on the road again, and that he should know me; but he 

went the contrary way, and so I was eased of that disorder.



We resolved to be going the next day, but about six o'clock 

at night we were alarmed with a great uproar in the street, and 

people riding as if they had been out of their wits; and what 

was it but a hue-and-cry after three highwaymen that had 

robbed two coaches and some other travellers near Dunstable 

Hill, and notice had, it seems, been given that they had been 

seen at Brickhill at such a house, meaning the house where 

those gentlemen had been.



The house was immediately beset and searched, but there were 

witnesses enough that the gentlemen had been gone over three 

hours.  The crowd having gathered about, we had the news 

presently; and I was heartily concerned now another way.  I 

presently told the people of the house, that I durst to say those 

were not the persons, for that I knew one of the gentlemen to 

be a very honest person, and of a good estate in Lancashire.



The constable who came with the hue-and-cry was immediately 

informed of this, and came over to me to be satisfied from my 

own mouth, and I assured him that I saw the three gentlemen 

as I was at the window; that I saw them afterwards at the 

windows of the room they dined in; that I saw them afterwards 

take horse, and I could assure him I knew one of them to be 

such a man, that he was a gentleman of a very good estate, and 

an undoubted character in Lancashire, from whence I was just 

now upon my journey.



The assurance with which I delivered this gave the mob gentry 

a check, and gave the constable such satisfaction, that he  

immediately sounded a retreat, told his people these were not 

the men, but that he had an account they were very honest 

gentlemen; and so they went all back again.  What the truth of 

the matter was I knew not, but certain it was that the coaches 

were robbed at Dunstable Hill, and #560 in money taken; 

besides, some of the lace merchants that always travel that way 

had been visited too.  As to the three gentlemen, that remains 

to be explained hereafter.



Well, this alarm stopped us another day, though my spouse 

was for travelling, and told me that it was always safest travelling 

after a robbery, for that the thieves were sure to be gone far 

enough off when they had alarmed the country; but I was afraid 

and uneasy, and indeed principally lest my old acquaintance 

should be upon the road still, and should chance to see me.



I never lived four pleasanter days together in my life.  I was a 

mere bride all this while, and my new spouse strove to make 

me entirely easy in everything.  Oh could this state of life have 

continued, how had all my past troubles been forgot, and my 

future sorrows avoided!  But I had a past life of a most wretched 

kind to account for, some if it in this world as well as in another. 



We came away the fifth day; and my landlord, because he saw 

me uneasy, mounted himself, his son, and three honest country 

fellows with good firearms, and, without telling us of it, 

followed the coach, and would see us safe into Dunstable.  We 

could do no less than treat them very handsomely at Dunstable, 

which cost my spouse about ten or twelve shillings, and 

something he gave the men for their time too, but my landlord 

would take nothing for himself.



This was the most happy contrivance for me that could have 

fallen out; for had I come to London unmarried, I must either 

have come to him for the first night's entertainment, or have 

discovered to him that I had not one acquaintance in the whole 

city of London that could receive a poor bridge for the first 

night's lodging with her spouse.  But now, being an old married 

woman, I made no scruple of going directly home with him, 

and there I took possession at once of a house well furnished, 

and a husband in very good circumstances, so that I had a  

prospect of a very happy life, if I knew how to manage it; and 

I had leisure to consider of the real value of the life I was likely 

to live.  How different it was to be from the loose ungoverned 

part I had acted before, and how much happier a life of virtue 

and sobriety is, than that which we call a life of pleasure.



Oh had this particular scene of life lasted, or had I learned 

from that time I enjoyed it, to have tasted the true sweetness 

of it, and had I not fallen into that poverty which is the sure 

bane of virtue, how happy had I been, not only here, but perhaps 

for ever!  for while I lived thus, I was really a penitent for all 

my life past.  I looked back on it with abhorrence, and might 

truly be said to hate myself for it.  I often reflected how my 

lover at the Bath, struck at the hand of God, repented and 

abandoned me, and refused to see me any more, though he 

loved me to an extreme; but I, prompted by that worst of 

devils, poverty, returned to the vile practice, and made the 

advantage of what they call a handsome face to be the relief 

to my necessities, and beauty be a pimp to vice.



Now I seemed landed in a safe harbour, after the stormy voyage 

of life past was at an end, and I began to be thankful for my 

deliverance.  I sat many an hour by myself, and wept over the 

remembrance of past follies, and the dreadful extravagances 

of a wicked life, and sometimes I flattered myself that I had 

sincerely repented.



But there are temptations which it is not in the power of human 

nature to resist, and few know what would be their case if 

driven to the same exigencies.  As covetousness is the root of 

all evil, so poverty is, I believe, the worst of all snares.  But I 

waive that discourse till I come to an experiment.



I live with this husband with the utmost tranquillity; he was a 

quiet, sensible, sober man; virtuous, modest, sincere, and in 

his business diligent and just.  His business was in a narrow 

compass, and his income sufficient to a plentiful way of living 

in the ordinary way.  I do not say to keep an equipage, and 

make a figure, as the world calls it, nor did I expect it, or desire 

it; for as I abhorred the levity and extravagance of my former 

life, so I chose now to live retired, frugal, and within ourselves.  

I kept no company, made no visits; minded my family, and 

obliged my husband; and this kind of life became a pleasure to me.



We lived in an uninterrupted course of ease and content for 

five years, when a sudden blow from an almost invisible hand 

blasted all my happiness, and turned me out into the world in 

a condition the reverse of all that had been before it.



My husband having trusted one of his fellow-clerks with a sum 

of money, too much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the 

clerk failed, and the loss fell very heavy on my husband, yet it 

was not so great neither but that, if he had had spirit and courage 

to have looked his misfortunes in the face, his credit was so 

good that, as I told him, he would easily recover it; for to sink 

under trouble is to double the weight, and he that will die in it, 

shall die in it.



It was in vain to speak comfortably to him; the wound had 

sunk too deep; it was a stab that touched the vitals; he grew 

melancholy and disconsolate, and from thence lethargic, and 

died.  I foresaw the blow, and was extremely oppressed in my 

mind, for I saw evidently that if he died I was undone.



I had had two children by him and no more, for, to tell the 

truth, it began to be time for me to leave bearing children, for 

I was now eight-and-forty, and I suppose if he had lived I 

should have had no more.



I was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and 

in several things worse than ever.  First, it was past the 

flourishing time with me when I might expect to be courted 

for a mistress; that agreeable part had declined some time, and 

the ruins only appeared of what had been; and that which was 

worse than all this, that I was the most dejected, disconsolate 

creature alive.  I that had encouraged my husband, and 

endeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble, could not 

support my own; I wanted that spirit in trouble which I told 

him was so necessary to him for bearing the burthen.



But my case was indeed deplorable, for I was left perfectly 

friendless and helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained 

had reduced his circumstances so low, that though indeed I 

was not in debt, yet I could easily foresee that what was left 

would not support me long; that while it wasted daily for 

subsistence, I had not way to increase it one shilling, so that 

it would be soon all spent, and then I saw nothing before me 

but the utmost distress; and this represented itself so lively to 

my thoughts, that it seemed as if it was come, before it was 

really very near; also my very apprehensions doubled the misery, 

for I fancied every sixpence that I paid for a loaf of bread was 

the last that I had in the world, and that to-morrow I was to 

fast, and be starved to death.



In this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or 

advise me; I sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, 

wringing my hands, and sometimes raving like a distracted 

woman; and indeed I have often wondered it had not affected 

my reason, for I had the vapours to such a degree, that my 

understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and 

imaginations.



I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I 

had, weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, 

as it were, only bleeding to death, without the least hope or 

prospect of help from God or man; and now I had cried too 

long, and so often, that tears were, as I might say, exhausted, 

and I began to be desperate, for I grew poor apace.



For a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings; 

and as I was reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, 

which put a little money in my pocket, and I lived near a year 

upon that, spending very sparingly, an eking things out to the 

utmost; but still when I looked before me, my very heart would 

sink within me at the inevitable approach of misery and want.  

Oh let none read this part without seriously reflecting on the 

circumstances of a desolate state, and how they would grapple 

with mere want of friends and want of bread; it will certainly 

make them think not of sparing what they have only, but of 

looking up to heaven for support, and of the wise man's prayer, 

'Give me not poverty, lest I steal.'



Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful 

temptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away;  poverty 

presses, the soul is made desperate by distress, and what can 

be done?  It was one evening, when being brought, as I may 

say, to the last gasp, I think I may truly say I was distracted 

and raving, when prompted by I know not what spirit, and, as 

it were, doing I did not know what or why, I dressed me (for 

I had still pretty good clothes) and went out.  I am very sure 

I had no manner of design in my head when I went out; I neither 

knew nor considered where to go, or on what business; but as 

the devil carried me out and laid his bait for me, so he brought 

me, to be sure, to the place, for I knew not whither I was going 

or what I did.



Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an 

apothecary's shop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a 

stool just before the counter a little bundle wrapped in a white 

cloth; beyond it stood a maid-servant with her back to it, 

looking towards the top of the shop, where the apothecary's 

apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the counter, with 

his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking 

and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted, 

so that both were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else 

in the shop.



This was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as 

readily prompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and 

shall never forget it, 'twas like a voice spoken to me over my 

shoulder, 'Take the bundle; be quick; do it this moment.'  It 

was no sooner said but I stepped into the shop, and with my 

back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that was 

going by, I put my hand behind me and took the bundle, and 

went off with it, the maid or the fellow not perceiving me, or 

any one else.



It is impossible to express the horror of my soul al the while 

I did it.  When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to 

mend my pace.  I crossed the street indeed, and went down 

the first turning I came to, and I think it was a street that went 

through into Fenchurch Street.  From thence I crossed and 

turned through so many ways an turnings, that I could never 

tell which way it was, not where I went; for I felt not the 

ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, the 

faster I went, till, tired and out of breath, I was forced to sit 

down on a little bench at a door, and then I began to recover, 

and found I was got into Thames Street, near Billingsgate.  I 

rested me a little and went on; my blood was all in a fire; my 

heart beat as if I was in a sudden fright.  In short, I was under 

such a surprise that I still knew not wither I was going, or 

what to do.



After I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, 

and so eagerly, I began to consider and make home to my 

lodging, where I came about nine o'clock at night. 



When the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid 

where I found it, I knew not, but when I came to open it I 

found there was a suit of childbed-linen in it, very good and 

almost new, the lace very fine; there was a silver porringer of 

a pint, a small silver mug and six spoons, with some other 

linen, a good smock, and three silk handkerchiefs, and in the 

mug, wrapped up in a paper, 18s. 6d. in money.



All the while I was opening these things I was under such 

dreadful impressions of fear, and I such terror of mind, though 

I was perfectly safe, that I cannot express the manner of it.  I 

sat me down, and cried most vehemently.  'Lord,' said I, 'what 

am I now? a thief!  Why, I shall be take next time, and be 

carried to Newgate and be tried for my life!'  And with that I 

cried again a long time, and I am sure, as poor as I was, if I 

had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried the things 

back again; but that went off after a while.  Well, I went to 

bed for that night, but slept little; the horror of the fact was 

upon my mind, and I knew not what I said or did all night, 

and all the next day.  Then I was impatient to hear some news 

of the loss; and would fain know how it was, whether they 

were a poor body's goods, or a rich.  'Perhaps,' said I, 'it 

may be some poor widow like me, that had packed up these 

goods to go and sell them for a little bread for herself and a 

poor child, and are now starving and breaking their hearts for 

want of that little they would have fetched.'  And this thought 

tormented me worse than all the rest, for three or four days' 

time.



But my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the 

prospect of my own starving, which grew every day more 

frightful to me, hardened my heart by degrees.  It was then 

particularly heavy upon my mind, that I had been reformed, 

and had, as I hoped, repented of all my past wickedness; that 

I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for several years, but now 

I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of my circumstances 

to the gates of destruction, soul and body; and two or three 

times I fell upon my knees, praying to God, as well as I could, 

for deliverance; but I cannot but say, my prayers had no hope 

in them.  I knew not what to do; it was all fear without, and 

dark within; and I reflected on my past life as not sincerely 

repented of, that Heaven was now beginning to punish me on 

this side the grave, and would make me as miserable as I had 

been wicked.



Had I gone on here I had perhaps been a true penitent; but I 

had an evil counsellor within, and he was continually prompting 

me to relieve myself by the worst means; so one evening he 

tempted me again, by the same wicked impulse that had said 

'Take that bundle,' to go out again and seek for what might 

happen.



I went out now by daylight, and wandered about I knew not 

whither, and in search of I knew not what, when the devil put 

a snare in my way of a dreadful nature indeed, and such a one 

as I have never had before or since.  Going through Aldersgate 

Street, there was a pretty little child who had been at a dancing-

school, and was going home, all alone; and my prompter, like 

a true devil, set me upon this innocent creature.  I talked to it, 

and it prattled to me again, and I took it by the hand and led 

it along till I came to a paved alley that goes into Bartholomew 

Close, and I led it in there.  The child said that was not its way 

home.  I said, 'Yes, my dear, it is; I'll show you the way home.'  

The child had a little necklace on of gold beads, and I had my 

eye upon that, and in the dark of the alley I stooped, pretending 

to mend the child's clog that was loose, and took off her 

necklace, and the child never felt it, and so led the child on 

again.  Here, I say, the devil put me upon killing the child in 

the dark alley, that it might not cry, but the very thought 

frighted me so that I was ready to drop down; but I turned the 

child about and bade it go back again, for that was not its way 

home.  The child said, so she would, and I went through into 

Bartholomew Close, and then turned round to another passage 

that goes into St. John Street; then, crossing into Smithfield, 

went down Chick Lane and into Field Lane to Holborn Bridge, 

when, mixing with the crowd of people usually passing there, 

it was not possible to have been found out; and thus I 

enterprised my second sally into the world.  



The thoughts of this booty put out all the thoughts of the first, 

and the reflections I had made wore quickly off; poverty, as I 

have said, hardened my heart, and my own necessities made 

me regardless of anything.  The last affair left no great concern 

upon me, for as I did the poor child no harm, I only said to 

myself, I had given the parents a just reproof for their negligence 

in leaving the poor little lamb to come home by itself, and it 

would teach them to take more care of it another time.



This string of beads was worth about twelve or fourteen pounds.  

I suppose it might have been formerly the mother's, for it was 

too big for the child's wear, but that perhaps the vanity of the 

mother, to have her child look fine at the dancing-school, had 

made her let the child wear it; and no doubt the child had a 

maid sent to take care of it, but she, careless jade, was taken 

up perhaps with some fellow that had met her by the way, 

and so the poor baby wandered till it fell into my hands.



However, I did the child no harm; I did not so much as fright 

it, for I had a great many tender thoughts about me yet, and 

did nothing but what, as I may say, mere necessity drove me to.



I had a great many adventures after this, but I was young in 

the business, and did not know how to manage, otherwise than 

as the devil put things into my head; and indeed he was seldom 

backward to me.  One adventure I had which was very lucky 

to me.  I was going through Lombard Street in the duck of the  

evening, just by the end of Three King court, when on a sudden 

comes a fellow running by me as swift as lightning, and throws 

a bundle that was in his hand, just behind me, as I stood up 

against the corner of the house at the turning into the alley.  

Just as he threw it in he said, 'God bless you, mistress, let it 

lie there a little,' and away he runs swift as the wind.  After 

him comes two more, and immediately a young fellow without 

his hat, crying 'Stop thief!' and after him two or three more.  

They pursued the two last fellows so close, that they were 

forced to drop what they had got, and one of them was taken 

into the bargain, and other got off free.



I stood stock-still all this while, till they came back, dragging 

the poor fellow they had taken, and lugging the things they 

had found, extremely well satisfied that they had recovered 

the booty and taken the thief; and thus they passed by me, for 

I looked only like one who stood up while the crowd was gone.



Once or twice I asked what was the matter, but the people 

neglected answering me, and I was not very importunate; but 

after the crowd was wholly past, I took my opportunity to turn 

about and take up what was behind me and walk away.  This, 

indeed, I did with less disturbance than I had done formerly, 

for these things I did not steal, but they were stolen to my hand.  

I got safe to my lodgings with this cargo, which was a piece of 

fine black lustring silk, and a piece of velvet; the latter was but 

part of a piece of about eleven yards; the former was a whole 

piece of near fifty yards.  It seems it was a mercer's shop that 

they had rifled.  I say rifled, because the goods were so 

considerable that they had lost; for the goods that they 

recovered were pretty many, and I believe came to about six 

or seven several pieces of silk.  How they came to get so many 

I could not tell; but as I had only robbed the thief, I made no 

scruple at taking these goods, and being very glad of them too.



I had pretty good luck thus far, and I made several adventures 

more, though with but small purchase, yet with good success, 

but I went in daily dread that some mischief would befall me, 

and that I should certainly come to be hanged at last.  The 

impression this made on me was too strong to be slighted, and 

it kept me from making attempts that, for ought I knew, might 

have been very safely performed; but one thing I cannot omit, 

which was a bait to me many a day.  I walked frequently out 

into the villages round the town, to see if nothing would fall 

in my way there; and going by a house near Stepney, I saw on 

the window-board two rings, one a small diamond ring, and 

the other a gold ring, to be sure laid there by some thoughtless 

lady, that had more money then forecast, perhaps only till 

she washed her hands.



I walked several times by the window to observe if I could 

see whether there was anybody in the room or no, and I could 

see nobody, but still I was not sure.  It came presently into my 

thoughts to rap at the glass, as if I wanted to speak with 

somebody, and if anybody was there they would be sure to 

come to the window, and then I would tell them to remove 

those rings, for that I had seen two suspicious fellows take 

notice of them.  This was a ready thought.  I rapped once or 

twice and nobody came, when, seeing the coast clear, I thrust 

hard against the square of the glass, and broke it with very 

little noise, and took  out the two rings, and walked away with 

them very safe.  The diamond ring was worth about #3, and 

the other about 9s.



I was now at a loss for a market for my goods, and especially 

for my two pieces of silk.  I was very loth to dispose of them 

for a trifle, as the poor unhappy thieves in general do, who, 

after they have ventured their lives for perhaps a thing of value, 

are fain to sell it for a song when they have done; but I was 

resolved I would not do thus, whatever shift I made, unless I 

was driven to the last extremity.  However, I did not well know 

what course to take.  At last I resolved to go to my old governess, 

and acquaint myself with her again.  I had punctually supplied 

the #5 a year to her for my little boy as long as I was able, but 

at last was obliged to put a stop to it.  However, I had written 

a letter to her, wherein I had told her that my circumstances 

were reduced very low; that I had lost my husband, and that I 

was not able to do it any longer, and so begged that the poor 

child might not suffer too much for its mother's misfortunes.



I now made her a visit, and I found that she drove something 

of the old trade still, but that she was not in such flourishing 

circumstances as before; for she had been sued by a certain 

gentleman who had had his daughter stolen from him, and who, 

it seems, she had helped to convey away; and it was very 

narrowly that she escaped the gallows.  The expense also had 

ravaged her, and she was become very poor; her house was 

but meanly furnished, and she was not in such repute for her 

practice as before; however, she stood upon her legs, as they 

say, and a she was a stirring, bustling woman, and had some 

stock left, she was turned pawnbroker, and lived pretty well.



She received me very civilly, and with her usual obliging 

manner told me she would not have the less respect for me for 

my being reduced; that she had taken care my boy was very 

well looked after, though I could not pay for him, and that the 

woman that had him was easy, so that I needed not to trouble 

myself about him till I might be better able to do it effectually.



I told her that I had not much money left, but that I had some 

things that were money's worth, if she could tell me how I 

might turn them into money.  She asked me what it was I had.  

I pulled out the string of gold beads, and told her it was one 

of my husband's presents to me; then I showed her the two 

parcels of silk, which I told her I had from Ireland, and brought 

up to town with me; and the little diamond ring.  As to the 

small parcel of plate and spoons, I had found means to dispose 

of them myself before; and as for the childbed-linen I had, she 

offered me to take it herself, believing it to have been my own.  

She told me that she was turned pawnbroker, and that she 

would sell those things for me as pawn to her; and so she sent 

presently for proper agents that bought them, being in her 

hands, without any scruple, and gave good prices too.



I now began to think this necessary woman might help me a 

little in my low condition to some business, for I would gladly 

have turned my hand to any honest employment if I could have 

got it.  But here she was deficient; honest business did not 

come within her reach.  If I had been younger, perhaps she 

might have helped me to a spark, but my thoughts were off 

that kind of livelihood, as being quite out of the way after fifty, 

which was my case, and so I told her.



She invited me at last to come, and be at her house till I could 

find something to do, and it should cost me very little, and this 

I gladly accepted of.  And now living a little easier, I entered 

into some measures to have my little son by my last husband 

taken off; and this she made easy too, reserving a payment 

only of #5 a year, if I could pay it.  This was such a help to me, 

that for a good while I left off the wicked trade that I had so 

newlytaken up; and gladly I would have got my bread by the 

help of my needle if I could have got work, but that was very 

hard to do for one that had no manner of acquaintance in the 

world.



However, at last I got some quilting work for ladies' beds, 

petticoats, and the like; and this I liked very well, and worked 

very hard, and with this I began to live; but the diligent devil, 

who resolved I should continue in his service, continually 

prompted me to go out and take a walk, that is to say, to see 

if anything would offer in the old way.



One evening I blindly obeyed his summons, and fetched a long 

circuit through the streets, but met with no purchase, and came 

home very weary and empty; but not content with that, I went 

out the next evening too, when going by an alehouse I saw the 

door of a little room open, next the very street, and on the table 

a silver tankard, things much in use in public-houses at that 

time.  It seems some company had been drinking there, and the 

careless boys had forgot to take it away.



I went into the box frankly, and setting the silver tankard on 

the corner of the bench, I sat down before it, and knocked with 

my foot; a boy came presently, and I bade him fetch me a pint 

of warm ale, for it was cold weather; the boy ran, and I heard 

him go down the cellar to draw the ale.  While the boy was 

gone, another boy came into the room, and cried, 'D' ye call?'  

I spoke with a melancholy air, and said, 'No, child; the boy is 

gone for a pint of ale for me.'



While I sat here, I heard the woman in the bar say, 'Are they 

all gone in the five?' which was the box I sat in, and the boy 

said, 'Yes.'  'Who fetched the tankard away?' says the woman.  

'I did,' says another boy; 'that's it,' pointing, it seems, to 

another tankard, which he had fetched from another box by 

mistake; or else it must be, that the rogue forgot that he had 

not brought it in, which certainly he had not.



I heard all this, much to my satisfaction, for I found plainly 

that the tankard was not missed, and yet they concluded it was 

fetched away; so I drank my ale, called to pay, and as I went 

away I said, 'Take care of your plate, child,' meaning a silver 

pint mug, which he brought me drink in.  The boy said, 'Yes, 

madam, very welcome,' and away I came.



I came home to my governess, and now I thought it was a 

time to try her, that if I might be put to the necessity of being 

exposed, she might offer me some assistance.  When I had 

been at home some time, and had an opportunity of talking to 

her, I told her I had a secret of the greatest consequence in the 

world to commit to her, if she had respect enough for me to 

keep it a secret.  She told me she had kept one of my secrets 

faithfully; why should I doubt her keeping another?  I told her 

the strangest thing in the world had befallen me, and that it 

had made a thief of me, even without any design, and so told 

her the whole story of the tankard.  'And have you brought it 

away with you, my dear?' says she.  'To be sure I have,' says 

I, and showed it her.  'But what shall I do now,' says I; 'must 

not carry it again?'



'Carry it again!' says she.  'Ay, if you are minded to be sent 

to Newgate for stealing it.'  'Why,' says I, 'they can't be so 

base to stop me, when I carry it to them again?'  'You don't 

know those sort of people, child,' says she; 'they'll not only 

carry you to Newgate, but hang you too, without any regard 

to the honesty of returning it; or bring in an account of all the 

other tankards they have lost, for you to pay for.'  'What must 

I do, then?' says I.  'Nay,' says she, 'as you have played the 

cunning part and stole it, you must e'en keep it; there's no 

going back now.  Besides, child,' says she, 'don't you want it 

more than they do?  I wish you could light of such a bargain 

once a week.'



This gave me a new notion of my governess, and that since 

she was turned pawnbroker, she had a sort of people about 

her that were none of the honest ones that I had met with 

there before.



I had not been long there but I discovered it more plainly than 

before, for every now and then I saw hilts of swords, spoons, 

forks, tankards, and all such kind of ware brought in, not to be 

pawned, but to be sold downright; and she bought everything 

that came without asking any questions, but had very good 

bargains, as I found by her discourse.



I found also that in following this trade she always melted 

down the plate she bought, that it might not be challenged; 

and she came to me and told me one morning that she was 

going to melt, and if I would, she would put my tankard in, 

that it might not be seen by anybody.  I told her, with all my 

heart; so she weighed it, and allowed me the full value in silver 

again; but I found she did not do the same to the rest of her 

customers.



Some time after this, as I was at work, and very melancholy, 

she begins to ask me what the matter was, as she was used to 

do.  I told her my heart was heavy; I had little work, and 

nothing to live on, and knew not what course to take.  She 

laughed, and told me I must go out again and try my fortune; 

it might be that I might meet with another piece of plate.  

'O mother!' says I, 'that is a trade I have no skill in, and if I 

should be taken I am undone at once.'  Says she, 'I could help 

you to a schoolmistress that shall make you as dexterous as 

herself.'  I trembled at  that proposal, for hitherto I had had 

no confederates, nor any acquaintance among that tribe.  But 

she conquered all my modesty, and all my fears; and in a little 

time, by the help of this confederate, I grew as impudent a 

thief, and as dexterous as ever Moll Cutpurse was, though, 

if fame does not belie her, not half so handsome.



The comrade she helped me to dealt in three sorts of craft, viz. 

shoplifting, stealing of shop-books and pocket-books, and 

taking off gold watches from the ladies' sides; and this last she 

did so dexterously that no woman ever arrived to the performance 

of that art so as to do it like her.  I liked the first and the last 

of these things very well, and I attended her some time in the 

practice, just as a deputy attends a midwife, without any pay.



At length she put me to practice.  She had shown me her art, 

and I had several times unhooked a watch from her own side 

with great dexterity.  At last she showed me a prize, and this 

was a young lady big with child, who had a charming watch.  

The thing was to be done as she came out of church.  She goes 

on one side of the lady, and pretends, just as she came to the 

steps, to fall, and fell against the lady with so much violence 

as put her into a great fright, and both cried out terribly.  In 

the very moment that she jostled the lady, I had hold of the 

watch, and holding it the right way, the start she gave drew 

the hook out, and she never felt it.  I made off immediately, 

and left my schoolmistress to come out of her pretended fright 

gradually, and the lady too; and presently the watch was missed.  

'Ay,' says my comrade, 'then it was those rogues that thrust 

me down, I warrant ye; I wonder the gentlewoman did not miss 

her watch before,then we might have taken them.'



She humoured the thing so well that nobody suspected her, 

and I was got home a full hour before her.  This was my first 

adventure in company.  The watch was indeed a very fine one, 

and had a great many trinkets about it, and my governess 

allowed us #20 for it, of which I had half.  And thus I was 

entered a complete thief, hardened to the pitch above all the 

reflections of conscience or modesty, and to a degree which 

I must acknowledge I never thought possible in me.



Thus the devil, who began, by the help of an irresistible poverty, 

to push me into this wickedness, brought me on to a height 

beyond the common rate, even when my necessities were not 

so great, or the prospect of my misery so terrifying; for I had 

now got into a little vein of work, and as I was not at a loss 

to handle my needle, it was very probable, as acquaintance 

came in, I might have got my bread honestly enough.



I must say, that if such a prospect of work had presented itself 

at first, when I began to feel the approach of my miserable 

circumstances--I say, had such a prospect of getting my bread 

by working presented itself then, I had never fallen into this 

wicked trade, or into such a wicked gang as I was now embarked 

with; but practice had hardened me, and I grew audacious to 

the last degree; and the more so because I had carried it on so 

long, and had never been taken; for, in a word, my new partner 

in wickedness and I went on together so long, without being 

ever detected, that we not only grew bold, but we grew rich, 

and we had at one time one-and-twenty gold watches in our 

hands. 



I remember that one day being a little more serious than 

ordinary, and finding I had so good a stock beforehand as I 

had, for I had near #200 in money for my share, it came 

strongly into my mind, no doubt from some kind spirit, if such 

there be, that at first poverty excited me, and my distresses 

drove me to these dreadful shifts; so seeing those distresses 

were now relieved, and I could also get something towards a 

maintenance by working, and had so good a bank to support 

me, why should I now not leave off, as they say, while I was 

well? that I could not expect to go always free; and if I was 

once surprised, and miscarried, I was undone.



This was doubtless the happy minute, when, if I had hearkened 

to the blessed hint, from whatsoever had it came, I had still a 

cast for an easy life.  But my fate was otherwise determined; 

the busy devil that so industriously drew me in had too fast 

hold of me to let me go back; but as poverty brought me into 

the mire, so avarice kept me in, till there was no going back.  

As to the  arguments which my reason dictated for persuading 

me to lay down, avarice stepped in and said, 'Go on, go on; 

you have had very good luck; go on till you have gotten four 

or five hundred pounds, and they you shall leave off, and then 

you may live easy without working at all.'



Thus I, that was once in the devil's clutches, was held fast 

there as with a charm, and had no power to go without the 

circle, till I was engulfed in labyrinths of trouble too great to 

get out at all.



However, these thoughts left some impression upon me, and 

made me act with some more caution than before, and more 

than my directors used for themselves.  My comrade, as I 

called her, but rather she should have been called my teacher,

with another of her scholars, was the first in the misfortune; 

for, happening to be upon the hunt for purchase, they made 

an attempt upon a linen-draper in Cheapside, but were snapped 

by a hawk's-eyed journeyman, and seized with two pieces of 

cambric, which were taken also upon them.



This was enough to lodge them both in Newgate, where they 

had the misfortune to have some of their former sins brought 

to remembrance.  Two other indictments being brought against 

them, and the facts being proved upon them, they were both 

condemned to die.  They both pleaded their bellies, and were 

both voted quick with child; though my tutoress was no more 

with child than I was.



I went frequently to see them, and condole with them, expecting 

that it would be my turn next; but the place gave me so much 

horror, reflecting that it was the place of my unhappy birth, 

and of my mother's misfortunes, and that I could not bear it, 

so I was forced to leave off going to see them.



And oh! could I have but taken warning by their disasters, I 

had been happy still, for I was yet free, and had nothing brought 

against me; but it could not be, my measure was not yet filled 

up.



My comrade, having the brand of an old offender, was executed; 

the young offender was spared, having obtained a reprieve, 

but lay starving a long while in prison, till at last she got her 

name into what they call a circuit pardon, and so came off.



This terrible example of my comrade frighted me heartily, and 

for a good while I made no excursions; but one night, in the 

neighbourhood of my governess's house, they cried "Fire.'  

My governess looked out, for we were all up, and cried 

immediately that such a gentlewoman's house was all of a light 

fire atop, and so indeed it was.  Here she gives me a job.  'Now, 

child,' says she, 'there is a rare opportunity, for the fire being 

so near that you may go to it before the street is blocked up 

with the crowd.'  She presently gave me my cue.  'Go, child,' 

says she, 'to the house, and run in and tell the lady, or anybody 

you see, that you come to help them, and that you came from 

such a gentlewoman (that is, one of her acquaintance farther 

up the street).'  She gave me the like cue to the next house, 

naming another name that was also an acquaintance of the 

gentlewoman of the house.



Away I went, and, coming to the house, I found them all in 

confusion, you may be sure.  I ran in, and finding one of the 

maids, 'Lord! sweetheart,' says I, 'how came this dismal 

accident?  Where is your mistress?  Any how does she do?  

Is she safe?  And where are the children?  I come from 

Madam ---- to help you.'  Away runs the maid.  'Madam, 

madam,' says she, screaming as loud as she could yell, 'here 

is a gentlewoman come from Madam ---- to help us.'  The 

poor woman, half out of her wits, with a bundle under her arm, 

an two little children, comes toward me.  'Lord! madam,' says 

I, 'let me carry the poor children to Madam ----,' she desires 

you to send them; she'll take care of the poor lambs;' and 

immediately I takes one of them out of her hand, and she lifts 

the other up into my arms.  'Ay, do, for God's sake,' says she, 

'carry them to her.  Oh! thank her for her kindness.'  'Have 

you anything else to secure, madam?' says I; 'she will take 

care of it.'  'Oh dear! ay,' says she, 'God bless her, and thank 

her. Take this bundle of plate and carry it to her too.  Oh, she 

is a good woman.  Oh Lord! we are utterly ruined, utterly 

undone!'  And away she runs from me out of her wits, and 

the maids after her; and away comes I with the two children 

and the bundle.



I was no sooner got into the street but I saw another woman 

come to me.  'Oh!' says she, 'mistress,' in a piteous tone, 'you 

will let fall the child.  Come, this is a sad time; let me help you'; 

and immediately lays hold of my bundle to carry it for me.  

'No,' says I; 'if you will help me, take the child by the hand, 

and lead it for me but to the upper end of the street; I'll go 

with you and satisfy you for your pains.'



She could not aviod going, after what I said; but the creature, 

in short, was one of the same business with me, and wanted 

nothing but the bundle; however, she went with me to the 

door, for she could not help it.  When we were come there I 

whispered her, 'Go, child,' said I, 'I understand your trade; 

you may meet with purchase enough.'



She understood me and walked off.  I thundered at the door 

with the children, and as the people were raised before by the 

noise of the fire, I was soon let in, and I said, 'Is madam 

awake?  Pray tell her Mrs. ---- desires the favour of her to 

take the two children in; poor lady, she will be undone, their 

house is all of a flame,'  They took the children in very civilly, 

pitied the family in distress, and away came I with my bundle.  

One of the maids asked me if  I was not to leave the bundle 

too.  I said, 'No, sweetheart, 'tis to go to another place; it 

does not belong to them.'



I was a great way out of the hurry now, and so I went on, 

clear of anybody's inquiry, and brought the bundle of plate, 

which was very considerable, straight home, and gave it to 

my old governess.  She told me she would not look into it, 

but bade me go out again to look for more.



She gave me the like cue to the gentlewoman of the next house 

to that which was on fire, and I did my endeavour to go, but 

by this time the alarm of fire was so great, and so many 

engines playing, and the street so thronged with people, that 

I could not get near the house whatever I would do; so I came 

back again to my governess's, and taking the bundle up into 

my chamber, I began to examine it.  It is with horror that I 

tell what a treasure I found there; 'tis enough to say, that 

besides most of the family plate, which was considerable, I 

found a gold chain, an old-fashioned thing, the locket of which 

was broken, so that I suppose it had not been used some years, 

but the gold was not the worse for that; also a little box of 

burying-rings, the lady's wedding-ring, and some broken bits 

of old lockets of gold, a gold watch, and a purse with about 

#24 value in old pieces of gold coin, and several other things 

of value.



This was the greatest and the worst prize that ever I was 

concerned in; for indeed, though, as I have said above, I was 

hardened now beyond the power of all reflection in other cases, 

yet it really touched me to the very soul when I looked into 

this treasure, to think of the poor disconsolate gentlewoman 

who had lost so much by the fire besides; and who would think, 

to be sure, that she had saved her plate and best things; how 

she would be surprised and afflicted when she should find that 

she had been deceived, and should find that the person that 

took her children and her goods, had not come, as was pretended, 

from the gentlewoman in the next street, but that the children 

had been put upon her without her own knowledge.



I say, I confess the inhumanity of this action moved me very 

much, and made me relent exceedingly, and tears stood in my 

eyes upon that subject; but with all my sense of its being cruel 

and inhuman, I could never find in my heart to make any 

restitution.  The reflection wore off, and I began quickly to 

forget the circumstances that attended the taking them.



Now was this all; for though by this job I was become 

considerably richer than before, yet the resolution I had 

formerly taken, of leaving off this horrid trade when I had 

gotten a little more, did not return, but I must still get farther, 

and more; and the avarice joined so with the success, that I 

had no more thought of coming to a timely alteration of life, 

though without it I could expect no safety, no tranquillity in 

the possession of what I had so wickedly gained; but a little 

more, and a little more, was the case still.



At length, yielding to the importunities of my crime, I cast off 

all remorse and repentance, and all the reflections on that head 

turned to no more than this, that I might perhaps come to have 

one booty more that might complete my desires; but though I 

certainly had that one booty, yet every hit looked towards 

another, and was so encouraging to me to go on with the trade, 

that I had no gust to the thought of laying it down.



In this condition, hardened by success, and resolving to go on, 

I fell into the snare in which I was appointed to meet with my 

last reward for this kind of life.  But even this was not yet, for 

I met with several successful adventures more in this way of 

being undone.



I remained still with my governess, who was for a while really 

concerned for the misfortune of my comrade that had been 

hanged, and who, it seems, knew enough of my governess to 

have sent her the same way, and which made her very uneasy; 

indeed, she was in a very great fright.



It is true that when she was gone, and had not opened mouth 

to tell what she knew, my governess was easy as to that point, 

and perhaps glad she was hanged, for it was in her power to 

have obtained a pardon at the expense of her friends; but on 

the other hand, the loss of her, and the sense of her kindness 

in not making her market of what she knew, moved my 

governess to mourn very sincerely for her.  I comforted her 

as well as I could, and she in return hardened me to merit 

more completely the same fate.



However, as I have said, it made me the more wary, and 

particularly I was very shy of shoplifting, especially among 

the mercers and drapers, who are a set of fellows that have 

their eyes very much about them.  I made a venture or two 

among the lace folks and the milliners, and particularly at one 

shop where I got notice of two young women who were newly 

set up, and had not been bred to the trade.  There I think I 

carried off a piece of bone-lace, worth six or seven pounds, 

and a paper of thread.  But this was but once; it was a trick 

that would not serve again.



It was always reckoned a safe job when we heard of a new 

shop, and especially when the people were such as were not 

bred to shops.  Such may depend upon it that they will be 

visited once or twice at their beginning, and they must be very 

sharp indeed if they can prevent it.



I made another adventure or two, but they were but trifles too, 

though sufficient to live on.  After this nothing considerable 

offering for a good while, I began to think that I must give 

over the trade in earnest; but my governess, who was not 

willing to lose me, and expected great things of me, brought 

me one day into company with a young woman and a fellow 

that went for her husband, though as it appeared afterwards, 

she was not his wife, but they were partners, it seems, in the 

trade they carried on, and partners in something else.  In short, 

they robbed together, lay together, were taken together, and 

at last were hanged together.



I came into a kind of league with these two by the help of my 

governess, and they carried me out into three or four adventures, 

where I rather saw them commit some coarse and unhandy 

robberies, in which nothing but a great stock of impudence 

on their side, and gross negligence on the people's side who 

were robbed, could have made them successful.  so I resolved 

from that time forward to be very cautious how I adventured 

upon anything with them; and indeed, when two or three 

unlucky projects were proposed by them, I declined the offer, 

and persuaded them against it.  One time they particularly 

proposed robbing a watchmaker of three gold watches, which 

they had eyed in the daytime, and found the place where he 

laid them.  One of them had so many keys of all kinds, that he 

made no question to open the place where the watchmaker 

had laid them; and so we made a kind of an appointment; but 

when I came to look narrowly into the thing, I found they 

proposed breaking open the house, and this, as a thing out of 

my way, I would not embark in, so they went without me.  

They did get into the house by main force, and broke up the 

locked place where the watches were, but found but one of 

the gold watches, and a silver one, which they took, and got 

out of the house again very clear.  But the family, being alarmed, 

cried out 'Thieves,' and the man was pursued and taken; the 

young woman had got off too, but unhappily was stopped at 

a distance, and the watches found upon her.  And thus I had 

a second escape, for they were convicted, and both hanged, 

being old offenders, though but young people.  As I said before 

that they robbed together and lay together, so now they hanged 

together, and there ended my new partnership.



I began now to be very wary, having so narrowly escaped a 

scouring, and having such an example before me; but I had a 

new tempter, who prompted me every day--I mean my governess; 

and now a prize presented, which as it came by her management, 

so she expected a good share of the booty.  There was a good 

quantity of Flanders lace lodged in a private house, where she 

had gotten intelligence of it, and Flanders lace being prohibited, 

it was a good booty to any custom-house officer that could 

come at it.  I had a full account from my governess, as well 

of the quantity as of the very place where it was concealed, 

and I went to a custom-house officer, and told him I had such 

a discovery to make to him of such a quantity of lace, if he 

would assure me that I should have my due share of the reward.  

This was so just an offer, that nothing could be fairer; so he 

agreed, and taking a constable and me with him, we beset the 

house.  As I told him I could go directly to the place, he left 

it to me; and the hole being very dark, I squeezed myself into 

it, with a candle in my hand, and so reached the pieces out to 

him, taking care as I gave him some so to secure as much about 

myself as I could conveniently dispose of.  There was near 

#300 worth of lace in the hole, and I secured about #50 worth 

of it to myself.  The people of the house were not owners of 

the lace, but a merchant who had entrusted them with it; so 

that they were not so surprised as I thought they would be.



I left the officer overjoyed with his prize, and fully satisfied 

with what he had got, and appointed to meet him at a house 

of his own directing, where I came after I had disposed of the 

cargo I had about me, of which he had not the least suspicion.  

When I came to him he began to capitulate with me, believing 

I did not understand the right I had to a share in the prize, and 

would fain have put me off with #20, but I let him know that I 

was not so ignorant as he supposed I was; and yet I was glad, 

too, that he offered to bring me to a certainty.



I asked #100, and he rose up to #30; I fell to #80, and he rose 

again to #40; in a word, he offered #50, and I consented, only 

demanding a piece of lace, which I though came to about #8 

or #9, as if it had been for my own wear, and he agreed to it.  

So I got #50 in money paid me that same night, and made an 

end of the bargain; nor did he ever know who I was, or where 

to inquire for me, so that if it had been discovered that part of 

the goods were embezzled, he could have made no challenge 

upon me for it.



I very punctually divided this spoil with my governess, and I 

passed with her from this time for a very dexterous manager 

in the nicest cases.  I found that this last was the best and 

easiest sort of work that was in my way, and I made it my 

business to inquire out prohibited goods, and after buying 

some, usually betrayed them, but none of these discoveries 

amounted to anything considerable, not like that I related just 

now; but I was willing to act safe, and was still cautious of 

running the great risks which I found others did, and in which 

they miscarried every day.



The next thing of moment was an attempt at a gentlewoman's 

good watch.  It happened in a crowd, at a meeting-house, 

where I was in very great danger of being taken.  I had full 

hold of her watch, but giving a great jostle, as if somebody 

had thrust me against her, and in the juncture giving the watch 

a fair pull, I found it would not come, so I let it go that moment, 

and cried out as if I had been killed, that somebody had trod 

upon my foot, and that there were certainly pickpockets there, 

for somebody or other had given a pull at my watch; for you 

are to observe that on these adventures we always went very 

well dressed, and I had very good clothes on, and a gold watch 

by my side, as like a lady as other fold.



I had no sooner said so, but the other gentlewoman cried out 

'A pickpocket' too, for somebody, she said, had tried to pull 

her watch away.



When I touched her watch I was close to her, but when I cried 

out I stopped as it were short, and the crowd bearing her 

forward a little, she made a noise too, but it was at some distance 

from me, so that she did not in the least suspect me; but when 

she cried out 'A pickpocket,' somebody cried, 'Ay, and here 

has been another! this gentlewoman has been attempted too.'



At that very instance, a little farther in the crowd, and very 

luckily too, they cried out 'A pickpocket,' again, and really 

seized a young fellow in the very act.  This, though unhappy 

for the wretch, was very opportunely for my case, though I 

had carried it off handsomely enough before; but now it was 

out of doubt, and all the loose part of the crowd ran that way, 

and the poor boy was delivered up to the rage of the street, 

which is a cruelty I need not describe, and which, however, 

they are always glad of, rather than to be sent to Newgate, 

where they lie often a long time, till they are almost perished, 

and sometimes they are hanged, and the best they can look for, 

if they are convicted, is to be transported.



This was a narrow escape to me, and I was so frighted that I 

ventured no more at gold watches a great while.  There was 

indeed a great many concurring circumstances in this adventure 

which assisted to my escape; but the chief was, that the woman 

whose watch I had pulled at was a fool; that is to say, she was 

ignorant of the nature of the attempt, which one would have 

thought she should not have been, seeing she was wise enough 

to fasten her watch so that it could not be slipped up.  But she 

was in such a fright that she had no thought about her proper 

for the discovery; for she, when she felt the pull, screamed out, 

and pushed herself forward, and put all the people about her into 

disorder, but said not a word of her watch, or of a pickpocket, 

for a least two minutes' time, which was time enough for me, 

and to spare.  For as I had cried out behind her, as I have said, 

and bore myself back in the crowd as she bore forward, there 

were several people, at least seven or eight, the throng being 

still moving on, that were got between me and her in that time, 

and then I crying out 'A pickpocket,' rather sooner than she, 

or at least as soon, she might as well be the person suspected 

as I, and the people were confused in their inquiry; whereas, 

had she with a presence of mind needful on such an occasion, 

as soon as she felt the pull, not screamed out as she did, but 

turned immediately round and seized the next body that was 

behind her, she had infallibly taken me.



This is a direction not of the kindest sort to the fraternity, but 

'tis certainly a key to the clue of a pickpocket's motions, and 

whoever can follow it will as certainly catch the thief as he 

will be sure to miss if he does not.



I had another adventure, which puts this matter out of doubt, 

and which may be an instruction for posterity in the case of a 

pickpocket.  My good old governess, to give a short touch at 

her history, though she had left off the trade, was, as I may say, 

born a pickpocket, and, as I understood afterwards, had run 

through all the several degrees of that art, and yet had never 

been taken but once, when she was so grossly detected, that 

she was convicted and ordered to be transported; but being a 

woman of a rare tongue, and withal having money in her pocket, 

she found means, the ship putting into Ireland for provisions, 

to get on shore there, where she lived and practised her old 

trade for some years; when falling into another sort of bad 

company, she turned midwife and procuress, and played a 

hundred pranks there, which she gave me a little history of in 

confidence between us as we grew more intimate; and it was 

to this wicked creature that I owed all the art and dexterity I 

arrived to, in which there were few that ever went beyond me, 

or that practised so long without any misfortune.



It was after those adventures in Ireland, and when she was 

pretty well known in that country, that she left Dublin and 

came over to England, where, the time of her transportation 

being not expired, she left her former trade, for fear of falling 

into bad hands again, for then she was sure to have gone to 

wreck.  Here she set up the same trade she had followed in 

Ireland, in which she soon, by her admirable management and 

good tongue, arrived to the height which I have already 

described, and indeed began to be rich, though her trade fell 

off again afterwards, as I have hinted before.



I mentioned thus much of the history of this woman here, the 

better to account for the concern she had in the wicked life I 

was now leading, into all the particulars of which she led me, 

as it were, by the hand, and gave me such directions, and I so 

well followed them, that I grew the greatest artist of my time 

and worked myself out of every danger with such dexterity, 

that when several more of my comrades ran themselves into 

Newgate presently, and by that time they had been half a year 

at the trade, I had now practised upwards of five years, and 

the people at Newgate did not so much as know me; they had 

heard much of me indeed, and often expected me there, but I 

always got off, though many times in the extremest danger.



One of the greatest dangers I was now in, was that I was too 

well known among the trade, and some of them, whose hatred 

was owing rather to envy than any injury I had done them, 

began to be angry that I should always escape when they were 

always catched and hurried to Newgate.  These were they that 

gave me the name of Moll Flanders; for it was no more of 

affinity with my real name or with any of the name I had ever 

gone by, than black is of kin to white, except that once, as 

before, I called myself Mrs. Flanders; when I sheltered myself 

in the Mint; but that these rogues never knew, nor could I ever 

learn how they came to give me the name, or what the occasion 

of it was.



I was soon informed that some of these who were gotten fast 

into Newgate had vowed to impeach me; and as I knew that 

two or three of them were but too able to do it, I was under 

a great concern about it, and kept within doors for a good 

while.  But my governess--whom I always made partner in my 

success, and who now played a sure game with me, for that 

she had a share of the gain and no share in the hazard--I say, 

my governess was something impatient of my leading such a 

useless, unprofitable life, as she called it; and she laid a new 

contrivance for my going abroad, and this was to dress me up 

in men's clothes, and so put me into a new kind of practice.



I was tall and personable, but a little too smooth-faced for a 

man; however, I seldom went abroad but in the night, it did 

well enough; but it was a long time before I could behave in 

my new clothes--I mean, as to my craft.  It was impossible to 

be so nimble, so ready, so dexterous at these things in a dress 

so contrary to nature; and I did everything clumsily, so I had 

neither the success nor the easiness of escape that I had before, 

and I resolved to leave it off; but that resolution was confirmed 

soon after by the following accident.



As my governess disguised me like a man, so she joined me 

with a man, a young fellow that was nimble enough at his 

business, and for about three weeks we did very well together.  

Our principal trade was watching shopkeepers' counters, and 

slipping off any kind of goods we could see carelessly laid 

anywhere, and we made several good bargains, as we called 

them, at this work.  And as we kept always together, so we 

grew very intimate, yet he never knew that I was not a man, 

nay, though I several times went home with him to his lodgings, 

according as our business directed, and four or five times lay 

with him all night.  But our design lay another way, and it was 

absolutely necessary to me to conceal my sex from him, as 

appeared afterwards.  The circumstances of our living, coming 

in late, and having such and such business to do as required 

that nobody should be trusted with the coming into our lodgings, 

were such as made it impossible to me to refuse lying with him, 

unless I would have owned my sex; and as it was, I effectually 

concealed myself.  But his ill, and my good fortune, soon put 

an end to this life, which I must own I was sick of too, on 

several other accounts.  We had made several prizes in this 

new way of business, but the last would be extraordinary.  

There was a shop in a certain street which had a warehouse 

behind it that looked into another street, the house making the 

corner of the turning.



Through the window of the warehouse we say, lying on the 

counter or showboard, which was just before it, five pieces of 

silks, besides other stuffs, and though it was almost dark, yet 

the people, being busy in the fore-shop with customers, had 

not had time to shut up those windows, or else had forgot it.



This the young fellow was so overjoyed with, that he could 

not restrain himself.  It lay all within his reach he said, and he 

swore violently to me that he would have it, if he broke down 

the house for it.  I dissuaded him a little, but saw there was no 

remedy; so he ran rashly upon it, slipped out a square of the 

sash window dexterously enough, and without noise, and got 

out four pieces of the silks, and came with them towards me, 

but was immediately pursued with a terrible clutter and noise.  

We were standing together indeed, but I had not taken any of 

the goods out of his hand, when I said to him hastily, 'You are 

undone, fly, for God's sake!'  He ran like lightning, and I too, 

but the pursuit was hotter after him because he had the goods, 

than after me.  He dropped two of the pieces, which stopped 

them a little, but the crowd increased and pursued us both.  

They took him soon after with the other two pieces upon him, 

and then the rest followed me.  I ran for it and got into my 

governess's house whither some quick-eyed people followed 

me to warmly as to fix me there.  They did not immediately 

knock, at the door, by which I got time to throw off my disguise 

and dress me in my own clothes; besides, when they came there, 

my governess, who had her tale ready, kept her door shut, and 

called out to them and told them there was no man come in 

there.  The people affirmed there did a man come in there, and 

swore they would break open the door.



My governess, not at all surprised, spoke calmly to them, told 

them they should very freely come and search her house, if 

they should bring a constable, and let in none but such as the 

constable would admit, for it was unreasonable to let in a whole 

crowd.  This they could not refuse, though they were a crowd.  

So a constable was fetched immediately, and she very freely 

opened the door; the constable kept the door, and the men he 

appointed searched the house, my governess going with them 

from room to room.  When she came to my room she called 

to me, and said aloud, 'Cousin, pray open the door; here's 

some gentlemen that must come and look into your room.'



I had a little girl with me, which was my governess's grandchild, 

as she called her; and I bade her open the door, and there sat 

I at work with a great litter of things about me, as if I had been 

at work all day, being myself quite undressed, with only 

night-clothes on my head, and a loose morning-gown wrapped 

about me.  My governess made a kind of excuse for their 

disturbing me, telling me partly the occasion of it, and that she 

had no remedy but to open the doors to them, and let them 

satisfy themselves, for all she could say to them would not 

satisfy them.  I sat still, and bid them search the room if they 

pleased, for if there was anybody in the house, I was sure they 

were not in my room; and as for the rest of the house, I had 

nothing to say to that, I did not understand what they looked for.



Everything looked so innocent and to honest about me, that 

they treated me civiller than I expected, but it was not till they 

had searched the room to a nicety, even under the bed, in the 

bed, and everywhere else where it was possible anything could 

be hid.  When they had done this, and could find nothing, they 

asked my pardon for troubling me, and went down.



When they had thus searched the house from bottom to top, 

and then top to bottom, and could find nothing, they 

appeased the mob pretty well; but they carried my governess 

before the justice.  Two men swore that they saw the man 

whom they pursued go into her house.  My governess rattled 

and made a great noise that her house should be insulted, and 

that she should be used thus for nothing; that if a man did 

come in, he might go out again presently for aught she knew, 

for she was ready to make oath that no man had been within 

her doors all that day as she knew of (and that was very true 

indeed); that is might be indeed that as she was abovestairs, 

any fellow in a fright might find the door open and run in for 

shelter when he was pursued, but that she knew nothing of it; 

and if it had been so, he certainly went out again, perhaps at 

the other door, for she had another door into an alley, and so 

had made his escape and cheated them all.



This was indeed probable enough, and the justice satisfied 

himself with giving her an oath that she had not received or 

admitted any man into her house to conceal him, or protect or 

hide him from justice.  This oath she might justly take, and 

did so, and so she was dismissed.



It is easy to judge what a fright I was in upon this occasion, 

and it was impossible for my governess ever to bring me to 

dress in that disguise again; for, as I told her, I should certainly 

betray myself.



My poor partner in this mischief was now in a bad case, for 

he was carried away before my Lord Mayor, and by his worship 

committed to Newgate, and the people that took him were so 

willing, as well as able, to prosecute him, that they offered 

themselves to enter into recognisances to appear at the sessions 

and pursue the charge against him.



However, he got his indictment deferred, upon promise to 

discover his accomplices, and particularly the man that was 

concerned with him in his robbery; and he failed not to do his 

endeavour, for he gave in my name, whom he called Gabriel 

Spencer, which was the name I went by to him; and here 

appeared the wisdom of my concealing my name and sex from 

him, which, if he had ever known I had been undone.



He did all he could to discover this Gabriel Spencer; he 

described me, he discovered the place where he said I lodged, 

and, in a word, all the particulars that he could of my dwelling; 

but having concealed the main circumstances of my sex from 

him, I had a vast advantage, and he never could hear of me.  He 

brought two or three families into trouble by his endeavouring 

to find me out, but they knew nothing of me, any more than 

that I had a fellow with me that they had seen, but knew nothing 

of.  And as for my governess, though she was the means of his 

coming to me, yet it was done at second-hand, and he knew 

nothing of her.



This turned to his disadvantage; for having promised discoveries, 

but not being able to make it good, it was looked upon as 

trifling with the justice of the city, and he was the more fiercely 

pursued by the shopkeepers who took him.



I was, however, terribly uneasy all this while, and that I might 

be quite out of the way, I went away from my governess's 

for a while; but not knowing wither to wander, I took a 

maid-servant with me, and took the stage-coach to Dunstable, 

to my old landlord and landlady, where I had lived so 

handsomely with my Lancashire husband.  Here I told her a 

formal story, that I expected my husband every day from 

Ireland, and that I had sent a letter to him that I would meet 

him at Dunstable at her house, and that he would certainly 

land, if the wind was fair, in a few days, so that I was come to 

spend a few days with them till he should come, for he was 

either come post, or in the West Chester coach, I knew not 

which; but whichsoever it was, he would be sure to come to 

that house to meet me.



My landlady was mighty glad to see me, and my landlord made 

such a stir with me, that if I had been a princess I could not 

have been better used, and here I might have been welcome 

a month or two if I had thought fit.



But my business was of another nature.  I was very uneasy 

(though so well disguised that it was scarce possible to detect 

me) lest this fellow should somehow or other find me out; and 

though he could not charge me with this robbery, having 

persuaded him not to venture, and having also done nothing 

in it myself but run away, yet he might have charged me with 

other things, and have bought his own life at the expense of 

mine.



This filled me with horrible apprehensions.  I had no recourse, 

no friend, no confidante but my old governess, and I knew no 

remedy but to put my life in her hands, and so I did, for I let 

her know where to send to me, and had several letters from 

her while I stayed here.  Some of them almost scared me out 

my wits but at last she sent me the joyful news that he was 

hanged, which was the best news to me that I had heard a 

great while.



I had stayed here five weeks, and lived very comfortably indeed 

(the secret anxiety of my mind excepted); but when I received 

this letter I looked pleasantly again, an told my landlady that 

I had received a letter from my spouse in Ireland, that I had 

the good news of his being very well, but had the bad news 

that his business would not permit him to come away so soon 

as he expected, and so I was like to go back again without him.



My landlady complimented me upon the good news however, 

that I had heard he was well.  'For I have observed, madam,' 

says she, 'you hadn't been so pleasant as you used to be; you 

have been over head and ears in care for him, I dare say,' says 

the good woman; ''tis easy to be seen there's an alteration in 

you for the better,' says she.  'Well, I am sorry the esquire 

can't come yet,' says my landlord; 'I should have been heartily 

glad to have seen him.  But I hope, when you have certain 

news of his coming, you'll take a step hither again, madam,' 

says he; 'you shall be very welcome whenever you please to 

come.;



With all these fine compliments we parted, and I came merry 

enough to London, and found my governess as well pleased 

as I was.  And now she told me she would never recommend 

any partner to me again, for she always found, she said, that 

I had the best luck when I ventured by myself.  And so indeed 

I had, for I was seldom in any danger when I was by myself, 

or if I was, I got out of it with more dexterity than when I was 

entangled with the dull measures of other people, who had 

perhaps less forecast, and were more rash and impatient than 

I; for though I had as much courage to venture as any of them, 

yet I used more caution before I undertook a thing, and had 

more presence of mind when I was to bring myself off.



I have often wondered even at my own hardiness another 

way, that when all my companions were surprised and fell so 

suddenly into the hand of justice, and that I so narrowly escaped, 

yet I could not all this while enter into one serious resolution 

to leave off this trade, and especially considering that I was 

now very far from being poor; that the temptation of necessity, 

which is generally the introduction of all such wickedness, was 

now removed; for I had near #500 by me in ready money, on 

which I might have lived very well, if I had thought fit to have 

retired; but I say, I had not so much as the least inclination to 

leave off; no, not so much as I had before when I had but #200 

beforehand, and when I had no such frightful examples before 

my eyes as these were.  From hence 'tis evident to me, that 

when once we are hardened in crime, no fear can affect us, 

no example give us any warning.



I had indeed one comrade whose fate went very near me for 

a good while, though I wore it off too in time.  That case was 

indeed very unhappy.  I had made a prize of a piece of very 

good damask in a mercer's shop, and went clear off myself, 

but had conveyed the piece to this companion of mine when 

we went out of the shop, and she went one way and I went 

another.  We had not been long out of the shop but the mercer 

missed his piece of stuff, and sent his messengers, one one 

way and one another, and they presently seized her that had 

the piece, with the damask upon her.  As for me, I had very 

luckily stepped into a house where there was a lace chamber, 

up one pair of stairs, and had the satisfaction, or the terror 

indeed, of looking out of the window upon the noise they 

made, and seeing the poor creature dragged away in triumph 

to the justice, who immediately committed her to Newgate.



I was careful to attempt nothing in the lace chamber, but 

tumbled their goods pretty much to spend time; then bought 

a few yards of edging and paid for it, and came away very 

sad-hearted indeed for the poor woman, who was in tribulation 

for what I only had stolen.



Here again my old caution stood me in good stead; namely, 

that though I often robbed with these people, yet I never let 

them know who I was, or where I lodged, nor could they ever 

find out my lodging, though they often endeavoured to watch 

me to it.  They all knew me by the name of Moll Flanders, 

though even some of them rather believed I was she than knew 

me to be so.  My name was public among them indeed, but 

how to find me out they knew not, nor so much as how to 

guess at my quarters, whether they were at the east end of the 

town or the west; and this wariness was my safety upon all 

these occasions.



I kept close a great while upon the occasion of this woman's 

disaster.  I knew that if I should do anything that should 

miscarry, and should be carried to prison, she would be there 

and ready to witness against me, and perhaps save her life at 

my expense.  I considered that I began to be very well known 

by name at the Old Bailey, though they did not know my face, 

and that if I should fall into their hands, I should be treated as 

an old offender; and for this reason I was resolved to see what 

this poor creature's fate should be before I stirred abroad, 

though several times in her distress I conveyed money to her 

for her relief.



At length she came to her trial.  She pleaded she did not steal 

the thing, but that one Mrs. Flanders, as she heard her called 

(for she did not know her), gave the bundle to her after they 

came out of the shop, and bade her carry it home to her lodging.  

They asked her where this Mrs. Flanders was, but she could 

not produce her, neither could she give the least account of 

me; and the mercer's men swearing positively that she was in 

the shop when the goods were stolen, that they immediately 

missed them, and pursued her, and found them upon her, 

thereupon the jury brought her in guilty; but the Court, 

considering that she was really not the person that stole the 

goods, an inferior assistant, and that it was very possible she 

could not find out this Mrs. Flanders, meaning me, though it 

would save her life, which indeed was true--I say, considering 

all this, they allowed her to be transported, which was the 

utmost favour she could obtain, only that the Court told her 

that if she could in the meantime produce the said Mrs. Flanders, 

they would intercede for her pardon; that is to say, if she could 

find me out, and hand me, she should not be transported.  This 

I took care to make impossible to her, and so she was shipped 

off in pursuance of her sentence a little while after.



I must repeat it again, that the fate of this poor woman troubled 

me exceedingly, and I began to be very pensive, knowing that 

I was really the instrument of her disaster; but the preservation 

of my own life, which was so evidently in danger, took off all 

my tenderness; and seeing that she was not put to death, I was 

very easy at her transportation, because she was then out of 

the way of doing me any mischief, whatever should happen.



The disaster of this woman was some months before that of 

the last-recited story, and was indeed partly occasion of my 

governess proposing to dress me up in men's clothes, that I 

might go about unobserved, as indeed I did; but I was soon 

tired of that disguise, as I have said, for indeed it exposed me 

to too many difficulties.



I was now easy as to all fear of witnesses against me, for all 

those that had either been concerned with me, or that knew 

me by the name of Moll Flanders, were either hanged or 

transported; and if I should have had the misfortune to be 

taken, I might call myself anything else, as well as Moll Flanders, 

and no old sins could be placed into my account; so I began 

to run a-tick again with the more freedom, and several 

successful adventures I made, though not such as I had made 

before.



We had at that time another fire happened not a great way off 

from the place where my governess lived, and I made an attempt 

there, as before, but as I was not soon enough before the crowd 

of people came in, and could not get to the house I aimed at, 

instead of a prize, I got a mischief, which had almost put a period

 to my life and all my wicked doings together; for the fire being 

very furious, and the people in a great fright in removing their 

goods, and throwing them out of window, a wench from out 

of a window threw a feather-bed just upon me.  It is true, the 

bed being soft, it broke no bones; but as the weight was great, 

and made greater by the fall, it beat me down, and laid me 

dead for a while.  Nor did the people concern themselves much 

to deliver me from it, or to recover me at all; but I lay like one 

dead and neglected a good while, till somebody going to 

remove the bed out of the way, helped me up.  It was indeed 

a wonder the people in the house had not thrown other goods 

out after it, and which might have fallen upon it, and then I 

had been inevitably killed; but I was reserved for further 

afflictions.



This accident, however, spoiled my market for that time, and 

I came home to my governess very much hurt and bruised, 

and frighted to the last degree, and it was a good while before 

she could set me upon my feet again.



It was now a merry time of the year, and Bartholomew Fair 

was begun.  I had never made any walks that way, nor was 

the common part of the fair of much advantage to me; but I 

took a turn this year into the cloisters, and among the rest I 

fell into one of the raffling shops.  It was a thing of no great 

consequence to me, nor did I expect to make much of it; but 

there came a gentleman extremely well dressed and very rich, 

and as 'tis frequent to talk to everybody in those shops, he 

singled me out, and was very particular with me.  First he told 

me he would put in for me to raffle, and did so; and some 

small matter coming to his lot, he presented it to me (I think 

it was a feather muff); then he continued to keep talking to 

me with a more than common appearance of respect, but still 

very civil, and much like a gentleman.



He held me in talk so long, till at last he drew me out of the 

raffling place to the shop-door, and then to a walk in the cloister, 

still talking of a thousand things cursorily without anything to 

the purpose.  At last he told me that, without compliment, he 

was charmed with my company, and asked me if I durst trust 

myself in a coach with him; he told me he was a man of honour, 

and would not offer anything to me unbecoming him as such.  

I seemed to decline it a while, but suffered myself to be 

importuned a little, and then yielded.



I was at a loss in my thoughts to conclude at first what this 

gentleman designed; but I found afterwards he had had some 

drink in his head, and that he was not very unwilling to have 

some more.  He carried me in the coach to the Spring Garden, 

at Knightsbridge, where we walked in the gardens, and he 

treated me very handsomely; but I found he drank very freely.  

He pressed me also to drink, but I decline it.



Hitherto he kept his word with me, and offered me nothing 

amiss.  We came away in the coach again, and he brought me 

into the streets, and by this time it was near ten o'clock at 

night, and he stopped the coach at a house where, it seems, 

he was acquainted, and where they made no scruple to show 

us upstairs into a room with a bed in it.  At first I seemed to 

be unwilling to go up, but after a few words I yielded to that 

too, being willing to see the end of it, and in hope to make 

something of it at last.  As for the bed, etc., I was not much 

concerned about that part.



Here he began to be a little freer with me than he had promised; 

and I by little and little yielded to everything, so that, in a word, 

he did what he pleased with me; I need say no more.  All this 

while he drank freely too, and about one in the morning we 

went into the coach again.  The air and the shaking of the 

coach made the drink he had get more up in his head than it 

was before, and he grew uneasy in the coach, and was for 

acting over again what he had been doing before; but as I 

thought my game now secure, I resisted him, and brought him 

to be a little still, which had not lasted five minutes but he fell 

fast asleep.



I took this opportunity to search him to a nicety.  I took a 

gold watch, with a silk purse of gold, his fine full-bottom 

periwig and silver-fringed gloves, his sword and fine snuff-box, 

and gently opening the coach door, stood ready to jump out 

while the coach was going on; but the coach stopped in the 

narrow street beyond Temple Bar to let another coach pass, 

I got softly out, fastened the door again, and gave my gentleman 

and the coach the slip both together, and never heard more 

of them.



This was an adventure indeed unlooked for, and perfectly 

undesigned by me; though I was not so past the merry part 

of life, as to forget how to behave, when a fop so blinded by 

his appetite should not know an old woman from a young.  I 

did not indeed look so old as I was by ten or twelve years; yet 

I was not a young wench of seventeen, and it was easy enough 

to be distinguished.  There is nothing so absurd, so surfeiting, 

so ridiculous, as a man heated by wine in his head, and wicked 

gust in his inclination together; he is in the possession of two 

devils at once, and can no more govern himself by his reason 

than a mill can grind without water; his vice tramples upon all 

that was in him that had any good in it, if any such thing there 

was; nay, his very sense is blinded by its own rage, and he acts 

absurdities even in his views; such a drinking more, when he 

is drunk already; picking up a common woman, without regard 

to what she is or who she is, whether sound or rotten, clean 

or unclean, whether ugly or handsome, whether old or young, 

and so blinded as not really to distinguish.  Such a man is worse 

than a lunatic; prompted by his vicious, corrupted head, he no 

more knows what he is doing than this wretch of mine knew 

when I picked his pocket of his watch and his purse of gold.



These are the men of whom Solomon says, 'They go like an 

ox to the slaughter, till a dart strikes through their liver'; an 

admirable description, by the way, of the foul disease, which 

is a poisonous deadly contagion mingling with the blood, 

whose centre or foundation is in the liver; from whence, by 

the swift circulation of the whole mass, that dreadful nauseous 

plague strikes immediately through his liver, and his spirits are 

infected, his vitals stabbed through as with a dart.



It is true this poor unguarded wretch was in no danger from 

me, though I was greatly apprehensive at first of what danger 

I might be in from him; but he was really to be pitied in one 

respect, that he seemed to be a good sort of man in himself; 

a gentleman that had no harm in his design; a man of sense, 

and of a fine behaviour, a comely handsome person, a sober 

solid countenance, a charming beautiful face, and everything 

that could be agreeable; only had unhappily had some drink 

the night before, had not been in bed, as he told me when we 

were together; was hot, and his blood fired with wine, and in 

that condition his reason, as it were asleep, had given him up.



As for me, my business was his money, and what I could make 

of him; and after that, if I could have found out any way to 

have done it, I would have sent him safe home to his house 

and to his family, for 'twas ten to one but he had an honest, 

virtuous wife and innocent children, that were anxious for his 

safety, and would have been glad to have gotten him home, 

and have taken care of him till he was restored to himself.  

And then with what shame and regret would he look back 

upon himself! how would he reproach himself with associating 

himself with a whore!  picked up in the worst of all holes, the 

cloister, among the dirt and filth of all the town! how would 

he be trembling for fear he had got the pox, for fear a dart had 

struck through his liver, and hate himself every time he looked 

back upon the madness and brutality of his debauch! how 

would he, if he had any principles of honour, as I verily believe 

he had--I say, how would he abhor the thought of giving any 

ill distemper, if he had it, as for aught he knew he might, to 

his modest and virtuous wife, and thereby sowing the contagion 

in the life-blood of his prosterity.



Would such gentlemen but consider the contemptible thoughts 

which the very women they are concerned with, in such cases 

as these, have of them, it would be a surfeit to them.  As I 

said above, they value not the pleasure, they are raised by no 

inclination to the man, the passive jade thinks of no pleasure 

but the money; and when he is, as it were, drunk in the 

ecstasies of his wicked pleasure, her hands are in his pockets 

searching for what she can find there, and of which he can no 

more be sensible in the moment of his folly that he can forethink 

of it when he goes about it.



I knew a woman that was so dexterous with a fellow, who 

indeed deserved no better usage, that while he was busy with 

her another way, conveyed his purse with twenty guineas in 

it out of his fob-pocket, where he had put it for fear of her, 

and put another purse with gilded counters in it into the room 

of it.  After he had done, he says to her, 'Now han't you picked 

my pocket?'  She jested with him, and told him she supposed 

he had not much to lose; he put his hand to his fob, and with 

his fingers felt that his purse was there, which fully satisfied 

him, and so she brought off his money.  And this was a trade 

with her; she kept a sham gold watch, that is, a watch of silver 

gilt, and a purse of counters in her pocket to be ready on all 

such occasions, and I doubt not practiced it with success.



I came home with this last booty to my governess, and really 

when I told her the story, it so affected her that she was hardly 

able to forbear tears, to know how such a gentleman ran a 

daily risk of being undone every time a glass of wine got into 

his head. 



But as to the purchase I got, and how entirely I stripped him, 

she told me it please her wonderfully.  'Nay child,' says she, 

'the usage may, for aught I know, do more to reform him than 

all the sermons that ever he will hear in his life.'  And if the 

remainder of the story be true, so it did.



I found the next day she was wonderful inquisitive about this 

gentleman; the description I had given her of him, his dress, 

his person, his face, everything concurred to make her think 

of a gentleman whose character she knew, and family too.  

She mused a while, and I going still on with the particulars, 

she starts up; says she, 'I'll lay #100 I know the gentleman.'



'I am sorry you do,' says I, 'for I would not have him exposed 

on any account in the world; he has had injury enough already 

by me, and I would not be instrumental to do him any more.'  

'No, no,' says she, 'I will do him no injury, I assure you, but 

you may let me satisfy my curiosity a little, for if it is he, I 

warrant you I find it out.'  I was a little startled at that, and 

told her, with an apparent concern in my face, that by the same 

rule he might find me out, and then I was undone.  She returned 

warmly, 'Why, do you think I will betray you, child?  No, no,' 

says she, 'not for all he is worth in the world.  I have kept your 

counsel in worse things than these; sure you may trust me in 

this.'  So I said no more at that time.



She laid her scheme another way, and without acquainting me 

of it, but she was resolved to find it out if possible.  So she 

goes to a certain friend of hers who was acquainted in the 

family that she guessed at, and told her friend she had some 

extraordinary business with such a gentleman (who, by the 

way, was no less than a baronet, and of a very good family), 

and that she knew not how to come at him without somebody 

to introduce her.  Her friend promised her very readily to do 

it, and accordingly goes to the house to see if the gentleman 

was in town.



The next day she come to my governess and tells her that 

Sir ---- was at home, but that he had met with a disaster and 

was very ill, and there was no speaking with him.  'What 

disaster?' says my governess hastily, as if she was surprised 

at it.  'Why,' says her friend, 'he had been at Hampstead to 

visit a gentleman of his acquaintance, and as he came back 

again he was set upon and robbed; and having got a little drink 

too, as they suppose, the rogues abused him, and he is very ill.'  

'Robbed!' says my governess, 'and what did they take from 

him?'  'Why,' says her friend, 'they took his gold watch and 

his gold snuff-box, his fine periwig, and what money he had 

in his pocket, which was considerable, to be sure, for Sir ---- 

never goes without a purse of guineas about him.'



'Pshaw!' says my old governess, jeering, 'I warrant you he 

has got drunk now and got a whore, and she has picked his 

pocket, and so he comes home to his wife and tells her he has 

been robbed.  That's an old sham; a thousand such tricks are 

put upon the poor women every day.'



'Fie!' says her friend, 'I find you don't know Sir ----; why he 

is a civil a gentleman, there is not a finer man, nor a soberer, 

graver, modester person in the whole city; he abhors such things; 

there's nobody that knows him will think such a thing of him.'  

'Well, well,' says my governess, 'that's none of my business; 

if it was, I warrant I should find there was something of that 

kind in it; your modest men in common opinion are sometimes 

no better than other people, only they keep a better character, 

or, if you please, are the better hypocrites.'



'No, no,' says her friend, 'I can assure you Sir ---- is no 

hypocrite, he is really an honest, sober gentleman, and he has 

certainly been robbed.'  'Nay,' says my governess, 'it may be 

he has; it is no business of mine, I tell you; I only want to 

speak with him; my business is of another nature.'  'But,' says 

her friend, 'let your business be of what nature it will, you 

cannot see him yet, for he is not fit to be seen, for he is very 

ill, and bruised very much,'  'Ay,' says my governess, 'nay, 

then he has fallen into bad hands, to be sure,'  And then she 

asked gravely, 'Pray, where is he bruised?'  'Why, in the head,' 

says her friend, 'and one of his hands, and his face, for they 

used him barbarously.'  'Poor gentleman,' says my governess, 

'I must wait, then, till he recovers'; and adds, 'I hope it will 

not be long, for I want very much to speak with him.'



Away she comes to me and tells me this story.  'I have found 

out your fine gentleman, and a fine gentleman he was,' says 

she; 'but, mercy on him, he is in a sad pickle now.  I wonder 

what the d--l you have done to him; why, you have almost 

killed him.'  I looked at her with disorder enough.  'I killed 

him!' says I; 'you must mistake the person; I am sure I did 

nothing to him; he was very well when I left him,' said I, 'only 

drunk and fast asleep.'  'I know nothing of that,' says she, 

'but he is in a sad pickle now'; and so she told me all that her 

friend had said to her.  'Well, then,' says I, 'he fell into bad 

hands after I left him,for I am sure I left him safe enough.'



About ten days after, or a little more, my governess goes again 

to her friend, to introduce her to this gentleman; she had 

inquired other ways in the meantime, and found that he was 

about again, if not abroad again, so she got leave to speak 

with him. 



She was a woman of a admirable address, and wanted nobody 

to introduce her; she told her tale much better than I shall be 

able to tell it for her, for she was a mistress of her tongue, as 

I have said already.  She told him that she came, though a 

stranger, with a single design of doing him a service and he 

should find she had no other end in it; that as she came purely 

on so friendly an account, she begged promise from him, that 

if he did not accept what she should officiously propose he 

would not take it ill that she meddled with what was not her 

business.  She assured him that as what she had to say was a 

secret that belonged to him only, so whether he accepted her 

offer or not, it should remain a secret to all the world, unless 

he exposed it himself; nor should his refusing her service in it 

make her so little show her respect as to do him the least injury, 

so that he should be entirely at liberty to act as he thought fit.



He looked very shy at first, and said he knew nothing that 

related to him that required much secrecy; that he had never 

done any man any wrong, and cared not what anybody might 

say of him; that it was no part of his character to be unjust to 

anybody, nor could he imagine in what any man could render 

him any service; but that if it was so disinterested a service as 

she said, he could not take it ill from any one that they should 

endeavour to serve him; and so, as it were, left her a liberty 

either to tell him or not to tell, as she thought fit.



She found him so perfectly indifferent, that she was almost 

afraid to enter into the point with him; but, however, after 

some other circumlocutions she told him that by a strange and 

unaccountable accident she came to have a particular knowledge 

of the late unhappy adventure he had fallen into, and that in such 

a manner, that there was nobody in the world but herself and 

him that were acquainted with it, no, not the very person that 

was with him.



He looked a little angrily at first.  'What adventure?' said he.  

'Why,' said she, 'of your being robbed coming from Knightbr----; 

Hampstead, sir, I should say,' says she.  'Be not surprised, sir,' 

says she, 'that I am able to tell you every step you took that 

day from the cloister in Smithfield to the Spring Garden at 

Knightsbridge, and thence to the ---- in the Strand, and how 

you were left asleep in the coach afterwards.  I say, let not 

this surprise you, for, sir, I do not come to make a booty of 

you, I ask nothing of you, and I assure you the woman that 

was with you knows nothing who you are, and never shall; 

and yet perhaps I may serve you further still, for I did not come 

barely to let you know that I was informed of these things, as 

if I wanted a bride to conceal them; assure yourself, sir,' said 

she, 'that whatever you think fit to do or say to me, it shall be 

all a secret as it is, as much as if I were in my grave.'



He was astonished at her discourse, and said gravely to her, 

'Madam, you are a stranger to me, but it is very unfortunate 

that you should be let into the secret of the worst action of 

my life, and a thing that I am so justly ashamed of, that the 

only satisfaction of it to me was, that I thought it was known 

only to God any my own conscience.'  'Pray, sir,' says she, 

'do not reckon the discovery of it to me to be any part of your 

misfortune.  It was a thing, I believe, you were surprised into, 

and perhaps the woman used some art to prompt you to it; 

however, you will never find any just cause,' said she, 'to 

repent that I came to hear of it; nor can your own mouth be 

more silent in it that I have been, and ever shall be.'



'Well,' says he, 'but let me do some justice to the woman too; 

whoever she is, I do assure you she prompted me to nothing, 

she rather declined me.  It was my own folly and madness that 

brought me into it all, ay, and brought her into it too; I must 

give her her due so far.  As to what she took from me, I could 

expect no less from her in the condition I was in, and to this 

hour I know not whether she robbed me or the coachman; if 

she did it, I forgive her, and I think all gentlemen that do so 

should be used in the same manner; but I am more concerned 

for some other things that I am for all that she took from me.'



My governess now began to come into the whole matter, and 

he opened himself freely to her.  First she said to him, in answer 

to what he had said about me, 'I am glad, sir, you are so just 

to the person that you were with; I assure you she is a 

gentlewoman, and no woman of the town; and however you 

prevailed with her so far as you did, I am sure 'tis not her 

practice.  You ran a great venture indeed, sir; but if that be 

any part of your care, I am persuaded you may be perfectly 

easy, for I dare assure you no man has touched her, before 

you, since her husband, and he has been dead now almost 

eight years.'



It appeared that this was his grievance, and that he was in a 

very great fright about it; however, when my governess said 

this to him, he appeared very well pleased, and said, 'Well, 

madam, to be plain with you, if I was satisfied of that, I should 

not so much value what I lost; for, as to that, the temptation 

was great, and perhaps she was poor and wanted it.'  'If she 

had not been poor, sir ----,' says my governess, 'I assure you 

she would never have yielded to you; and as her poverty first 

prevailed with her to let you do as you did, so the same poverty 

prevailed with her to pay herself at last, when she saw you 

was in such a condition, that if she had not done it, perhaps 

the next coachman might have done it.'



'Well,' says he, 'much good may it do her.  I say again, all the 

gentlemen that do so ought to be used in the same manner, 

and then they would be cautious of themselves.  I have no 

more concern about it, but on the score which you hinted at 

before, madam.'  Here he entered into some freedoms with 

her on the subject of what passed between us, which are not 

so proper for a woman to write, and the great terror that was 

upon his mind with relation to his wife, for fear he should have 

received any injury from me, and should communicate if farther; 

and asked her at last if she could not procure him an opportunity 

to speak with me.  My governess gave him further assurances 

of my being a woman clear from any such thing, and that he 

was as entirely save in that respect as he was with his own 

lady; but as for seeing me, she said it might be of dangerous 

consequence; but, however, that she would talk with me, and 

let him know my answer, using at the same time some arguments 

to persuade him not to desire it, and that it could be of no 

service to him, seeing she hoped he had no desire to renew a 

correspondence with me, and that on my account it was a kind 

of putting my life in his hands.



He told her he had a great desire to see me, that he would 

give her any assurances that were in his power, not to take 

any advantages of me, and that in the first place he would give 

me a general release from all demands of any kind.  She insisted 

how it might tend to a further divulging the secret, and might 

in the end be injurious to him, entreating him not to press for 

it; so at length  he desisted.



They had some discourse upon the subject of the things he had 

lost, and he seemed to be very desirous of his gold watch, and 

told her if she could procure that for him, he would willingly 

give as much for it as it was worth.  She told him she would 

endeavour to procure it for him, and leave the valuing it to 

himself.



Accordingly the next day she carried the watch, and he gave 

her thirty guineas for it, which was more than I should have 

been able to make of it, though it seems it cost much more.  

He spoke something of his periwig, which it seems cost him 

threescore guineas, and his snuff-box, and in a few days more 

she carried them too; which obliged him very much, and he 

gave her thirty more.  The next day I sent him his fine sword 

and cane gratis, and demanded nothing of him, but I had no 

mind to see him, unless it had been so that he might be satisfied 

I knew who he was, which he was not willing to.



Then he entered into a long talk with her of the manner how 

she came to know all this matter.  She formed a long tale of 

that part; how she had it from one that I had told the whole 

story to, and that was to help me dispose of the goods; and 

this confidante brought the things to her, she being by profession 

a pawnbroker; and she hearing of his worship's disaster, guessed 

at the thing in general; that having gotten the things into her 

hands, she had resolved to come and try as she had done.  She 

then gave him repeated assurances that it should never go out 

of her mouth, and though she knew the woman very well, yet 

she had not let her know, meaning me, anything of it; that is 

to say, who the person was, which, by the way, was false; but, 

however, it was not to his damage, for I never opened my 

mouth of it to anybody.



I had a great many thoughts in my head about my seeing him 

again, and was often sorry that I had refused it.  I was persuaded 

that if I had seen him, and let him know that I knew him, I 

should have made some advantage of him, and perhaps have 

had some maintenance from him; and though it was a life 

wicked enough, yet it was not so full of danger as this I was 

engaged in.  However, those thoughts wore off, and I declined 

seeing him again, for that time; but my governess saw him 

often, and he was very kind to her, giving her something almost 

every time he saw her.  One time in particular she found him 

very merry, and as she thought he had some wine in his head, 

and he pressed her again very earnestly to let him see that 

woman that, as he said, had bewitched him so that night, my 

governess, who was from the beginning for my seeing him, 

told him he was so desirous of it that she could almost yield 

of it, if she could prevail upon me; adding that if he would 

please to come to her house in the evening, she would 

endeavour it, upon his repeated assurances of forgetting what 

was past.



Accordingly she came to me, and told me all the discourse; 

in short, she soon biassed me to consent, in a case which I had 

some regret in my mind for declining before; so I prepared to 

see him.  I dressed me to all the advantage possible, I assure 

you, and for the first time used a little art; I say for the first 

time, for I had never yielded to the baseness of paint before, 

having always had vanity enough to believe I had no need of it.



At the hour appointed he came; and as she observed before, 

so it was plain still, that he had been drinking, though very far 

from what we call being in drink.  He appeared exceeding 

pleased to see me, and entered into a long discourse with me 

upon the old affair.  I begged his pardon very often for my 

share of it, protested I had not any such design when first I 

met him, that I had not gone out with him but that I took him 

for a very civil gentleman, and that he made me so many 

promises of offering no uncivility to me.



He alleged the wine he drank, and that he scarce knew what 

he did, and that if it had not been so, I should never have let 

him take the freedom with me that he had done.  He protested 

to me that he never touched any woman but me since he was 

married to his wife, and it was a surprise upon him; complimented 

me upon being so particularly agreeable to him, and the like; 

and talked so much of that kind, till I found he had talked 

himself almost into a temper to do the same thing over again.  

But I took him up short.  I protested I had never suffered any 

man to touch me since my husband died, which was near eight 

years.  He said he believed it to be so truly; and added that 

madam had intimated as much to him, and that it was his 

opinion of that part which made hi desire to see me again; and 

that since he had once broke in upon his virtue with me, and 

found no ill consequences, he could be safe in venturing there 

again; and so, in short, it went on to what I expected, and to 

what will not bear relating.



My old governess had foreseen it, as well as I, and therefore 

led him into a room which had not a bed in it, and yet had a 

chamber within it which had a bed, whither we withdrew for 

the rest of the night; and, in short, after some time being 

together, he went to bed, and lay there all night.  I withdrew, 

but came again undressed in the morning, before it was day, 

and lay with him the rest of the time.



Thus, you see, having committed a crime once is a sad handle 

to the committing of it again; whereas all the regret and 

reflections wear off when the temptation renews itself.  Had 

I not yielded to see him again, the corrupt desire in him had 

worn off, and 'tis very probable he had never fallen into it 

with anybody else, as I really believe he had not done before.



When he went away, I told him I hoped he was satisfied he 

had not been robbed again.  He told me he was satisfied in 

that point, and could trust me again, and putting his hand in 

his pocket, gave me five guineas, which was the first money 

I had gained that way for many years.



I had several visits of the like kind from him, but he never 

came into a settled way of maintenance, which was what I 

would have best pleased with.  Once, indeed, he asked me 

how I did to live.  I answered him pretty quick, that I assured 

him I had never taken that course that I took with him, but 

that indeed I worked at my needle, and could just maintain 

myself; that sometime it was as much as I was able to do, and 

I shifted hard enough.



He seemed to reflect upon himself that he should be the first 

person to lead me into that, which he assured me he never 

intended to do himself; and it touched him a little, he said, 

that he should be the cause of his own sin and mine too.  He 

would often make just reflections also upon the crime itself, 

and upon the particular circumstances of it with respect to 

himself; how wine introduced the inclinations how the devil 

led him to the place, and found out an object to tempt him, 

and he made the moral always himself.



When these thoughts were upon him he would go away, and 

perhaps not come again in a month's time or longer; but then 

as the serious part wore off, the lewd part would wear in, and 

then he came prepared for the wicked part.  Thus we lived for 

some time; thought he did not keep, as they call it, yet he 

never failed doing things that were handsome, and sufficient 

to maintain me without working, and, which was better, 

without following my old trade.



But this affair had its end too; for after about a year, I found 

that he did not come so often as usual, and at last he left if 

off altogether without any dislike to bidding adieu; and so 

there was an end of that short scene of life, which added no 

great store to me, only to make more work for repentance.



However, during this interval I confined myself pretty much 

at home; at least, being thus provided for, I made no adventures, 

no, not for a quarter of a year after he left me; but then finding 

the fund fail, and being loth to spend upon the main stock, I 

began to think of my old trade, and to look abroad into the 

street again; and my first step was lucky enough.



I had dressed myself up in a very mean habit, for as I had 

several shapes to appear in, I was now in an ordinary stuff-gown, 

a blue apron, and a straw hat and I placed myself at the door 

of the Three Cups Inn in St. John Street.  There were several 

carriers used the inn, and the stage-coaches for Barnet, for 

Totteridge, and other towns that way stood always in the street 

in the evening, when they prepared to set out, so that I was 

ready for anything that offered, for either one or other.  The 

meaning was this; people come frequently with bundles and 

small parcels to those inns, and call for such carriers or coaches 

as they want, to carry them into the country; and there generally 

attend women, porters' wives or daughters, ready to take in 

such things for their respective people that employ them.



It happened very oddly that I was standing at the inn gate, and 

a woman that had stood there before, and which was the 

porter's wife belonging to the Barnet stage-coach, having 

observed me, asked if I waited for any of the coaches.  I told 

her Yes, I waited for my mistress, that was coming to go to 

Barnet.  She asked me who was my mistress, and I told her 

any madam's name that came next me; but as it seemed, I 

happened upon a name, a family of which name lived at 

Hadley, just beyond Barnet.



I said no more to her, or she to me, a good while; but by and 

by, somebody calling her at a door a little way off, she desired 

me that if anybody called for the Barnet coach, I would step 

and call her at the house, which it seems was an alehouse.  I 

said Yes, very readily, and away she went.



She was no sooner gone but comes a wench and a child, puffing 

and sweating, and asks for the Barnet coach.  I answered 

presently, 'Here.'  'Do you belong to the Barnet coach?' says 

she.  'Yes, sweetheart,' said I; 'what do ye want?'  'I want 

room for two passengers,' says she.  'Where are they, sweetheart?' 

said I.  'Here's this girl, pray let her go into the coach,' says 

she, 'and I'll go and fetch my mistress.'  'Make haste, then, 

sweetheart,' says I, 'for we may be full else.'  The maid had 

a great bundle under her arm; so she put the child into the 

coach, and I said, 'You had best put your bundle into the coach 

too.'  'No,' says she, 'I am afraid somebody should slip it away 

from the child.'  'Give to me, then,' said I, 'and I'll take care 

of it.'  'Do, then,' says she, 'and be sure you take of it.'  'I'll 

answer for it,' said I, 'if it were for #20 value.'  "There, take 

it, then,' says she, and away she goes.



As soon as I had got the bundle, and the maid was out of sight, 

I goes on towards the alehouse, where the porter's wife was, 

so that if I had met her, I had then only been going to give her 

the bundle, and to call her to her business, as if I was going 

away, and could stay no longer; but as I did not meet her, I 

walked away, and turning into Charterhouse Lane, then 

crossed into Batholomew Close, so into Little Britain, and 

through the Bluecoat Hospital, into Newgate Street.



To prevent my being known, I pulled off my blue apron, and 

wrapped the bundle in it, which before was made up in a piece 

of painted calico, and very remarkable; I also wrapped up my 

straw hat in it, and so put the bundle upon my head; and it was 

very well that I did thus, for coming through the Bluecoat 

Hospital, who should I meet but the wench that had given me 

the bundle to hold.  It seems she was going with her mistress, 

whom she had been gone to fetch, to the Barnet coaches.



I saw she was in haste, and I had no business to stop her; so 

away she went, and I brought my bundle safe home to my  

governess.  There was no money, nor plate, or jewels in the 

bundle, but a very good suit of Indian damask, a gown and a 

petticoat, a laced-head and ruffles of very good Flanders lace, 

and some linen and other things, such as I knew very well the 

value of.



This was not indeed my own invention, but was given me by 

one that had practised it with success, and my governess liked 

it extremely; and indeed I tried it again several times, though 

never twice near the same place; for the next time I tried it in 

White Chapel, just by the corner of Petticoat Lane, where the 

coaches stand that go out to Stratford and Bow, and that side 

of the country, and another time at the Flying Horse, without 

Bishopgate, where the Cheston coaches then lay; and I had 

always the good luck to come off with some booty.



Another time I placed myself at a warehouse by the waterside, 

where the coasting vessels from the north come, such as from 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Sunderland, and other places.  Here, 

the warehouses being shut, comes a young fellow with a letter; 

and he wanted a box and a hamper that was come from 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne.  I asked him if he had the marks of it; 

so he shows me the letter, by virtue of which he was to ask 

for it, and which gave an account of the contents, the box 

being full of linen, and the hamper full of glass ware.  I read 

the letter, and took care to see the name, and the marks, the 

name of the person that sent the goods, the name of the person 

that they were sent to; then I bade the messenger come in the 

morning, for that the warehouse-keeper would not be there 

any more that night.



Away went I, and getting materials in a public house, I wrote 

a letter from Mr. John Richardson of Newcastle to his dear 

cousin Jemmy Cole, in London, with an account that he sent 

by such a vessel (for I remembered all the particulars to a title), 

so many pieces of huckaback linen, so many ells of Dutch 

holland and the like, in a box, and a hamper of flint glasses 

from Mr. Henzill's glasshouse; and that the box was marked 

I. C. No. 1, and the hamper was directed by a label on the 

cording.



About an hour after, I came to the warehouse, found the 

warehouse-keeper, and had the goods delivered me without 

any scruple; the value of the linen being about #22.



I could fill up this whole discourse with the variety of such 

adventures, which daily invention directed to, and which I 

managed with the utmost dexterity, and always with success.



At length-as when does the pitcher come safe home that goes 

so very often to the well?-I fell into some small broils, which 

though they could not affect me fatally, yet made me known, 

which was the worst thing next to being found guilty that 

could befall me.



I had taken up the disguise of a widow's dress; it was without 

any real design in view, but only waiting for anything that 

might offer, as I often did.  It happened that while I was going 

along the street in Covent Garden, there was a great cry of 

'Stop thief!  Stop thief!'  some artists had, it seems, put a trick 

upon a shopkeeper, and being pursued, some of them fled 

one way, and some another; and one of them was, they said, 

dressed up in widow's weeds, upon which the mob gathered 

about me, and some said I was the person, others said no.  

Immediately came the mercer's journeyman, and he swore 

aloud I was the person, and so seized on me.  However, when 

I was brought back by the mob to the mercer's shop, the 

master of the house said freely that I was not the woman that 

was in his shop, and would have let me go immediately; but 

another fellow said gravely, 'Pray stay till Mr. ----' (meaning 

the journeyman) 'comes back, for he knows her.'  So they 

kept me by force near half an hour.  They had called a constable, 

and he stood in the shop as my jailer; and in talking with the 

constable I inquired where he lived, and what trade he was; 

the man not apprehending in the least what happened afterwards, 

readily told me his name, and trade, and where he lived; and 

told me as a jest, that I might be sure to hear of his name when 

I came to the Old Bailey.



Some of the servants likewise used me saucily, and had much 

ado to keep their hands off me; the master indeed was civiller 

to me than they, but he would not yet let me go, though he 

owned he could not say I was in his shop before.



I began to be a little surly with him, and told him I hoped he 

would not take it ill if I made myself amends upon him in a 

more legal way another time; and desired I might send for 

friends to see me have right done me.  No, he said, he could 

give no such liberty; I might ask it when I came before the 

justice of peace; and seeing I threatened him, he would take 

care of me in the meantime, and would lodge me safe in 

Newgate.  I told him it was his time now, but it would be 

mine by and by, and governed my passion as well as I was able.  

However, I spoke to the constable to call me a porter, which 

he did, and then I called for pen, ink, and paper, but they 

would let me have none.  I asked the porter his name, and 

where he lived, and the poor man told it me very willingly.  

I bade him observe and remember how I was treated there; 

that he saw I was detained there by force.  I told him I should 

want his evidence in another place, and it should not be the 

worse for him to speak.  The porter said he would serve me 

with all his heart.  'But, madam,' says he, 'let me hear them 

refuse to let you go, then I may be able to speak the plainer.'



With that I spoke aloud to the master of the shop, and said, 

'Sir, you know in your own conscience that I am not the 

person you look for, and that I was not in your shop before, 

therefore I demand that you detain me here no longer, or tell 

me the reason of your stopping me.'  The fellow grew surlier 

upon this than before, and said he would do neither till he 

thought fit.  'Very well,' said I to the constable and to the 

porter; 'you will be pleased to remember this, gentlemen, 

another time.'  The porter said, 'Yes, madam'; and the 

constable began not to like it, and would have persuaded the 

mercer to dismiss him, and let me go, since, as he said, he 

owned I was not the person.  'Good, sir,' says the mercer to 

him tauntingly, 'are you a justice of peace or a constable?  I 

charged you with her; pray do you do your duty.'  The constable 

told him, a little moved, but very handsomely, 'I know my 

duty, and what I am, sir; I doubt you hardly know what you 

are doing.'  They had some other hard words, and in the 

meantime the journeyman, impudent and unmanly to the last 

degree, used me barbarously, and one of them, the same that 

first seized upon me, pretended he would search me, and began 

to lay hands on me.  I spit in his face, called out to the constable, 

and bade him to take notice of my usage.  'And pray, Mr. 

Constable,' said I, 'ask that villain's name,' pointing to the 

man.  The constable reproved him decently, told him that he 

did not know what he did, for he knew that his master 

acknowledged I was not the person that was in his shop; 'and,' 

says the constable, 'I am afraid your master is bringing himself, 

and me too, into trouble, if this gentlewoman comes to prove 

who she is, and where she was, and it appears that she is not 

the woman you pretend to.'  'Damn her,' says the fellow again, 

with a impudent, hardened face, 'she is the lady, you may depend 

upon it; I'll swear she is the same body that was in the shop, 

and that I gave the pieces of satin that is lost into her own hand.  

You shall hear more of it when Mr. William and Mr. Anthony 

(those  were other journeymen) come back; they will know her 

again as well as I.'



Just as the insolent rogue was talking thus to the constable, 

comes back Mr. William and Mr. Anthony, as he called them, 

and a great rabble with them, bringing along with them the 

true widow that I was pretended to be; and they came sweating 

and blowing into the shop, and with a great deal of triumph, 

dragging the poor creature in the most butcherly manner up 

towards their master, who was in the back shop, and cried 

out aloud, 'Here's the widow, sir; we have catcher her at last.'  

'What do ye mean by that?' says the master.  'Why, we have 

her already; there she sits,' says he, 'and Mr.----,' says he, 

'can swear this is she.'  The other man, whom they called Mr. 

Anthony, replied, 'Mr. ---- may say what he will, and swear 

what he will, but this is the woman, and there's the remnant 

of satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own hand.'



I sat still now, and began to take a better heart, but smiled and 

said nothing; the master looked pale; the constable turned 

about and looked at me.  'Let 'em alone, Mr. Constable,' said 

I; 'let 'em go on.'  The case was plain and could not be denied, 

so the constable was charged with the right thief, and the 

mercer told me very civilly he was sorry for the mistake, and 

hoped I would not take it ill; that they had so many things of 

this nature put upon them every day, that they could not be 

blamed for being very sharp in doing themselves justice.  'Not 

take it ill, sir!' said I; 'how can I take it well!  If you had 

dismissed me when your insolent fellow seized on me it the 

street, and brought me to you, and when you yourself 

acknowledged I was not the person, I would have put it by, 

and not taken it ill, because of the many ill things I believe 

you have put upon you daily; but your treatment of me since 

has been insufferable, and especially that of your servant; I 

must and will have reparation for that.'



Then be began to parley with me, said he would make me any 

reasonable satisfaction, and would fain have had me tell him 

what it was I expected.  I told him that I should not be my 

own judge, the law should decide it for me; and as I was to be 

carried before a magistrate, I should let him hear there what 

I had to say.  He told me there was no occasion to go before 

the justice now, I was at liberty to go where I pleased; and so, 

calling to the constable, told him he might let me go, for I 

was discharge.  The constable said calmly to him, 'sir, you 

asked me just now if I knew whether I was a constable or 

justice, and bade me do my duty, and charged me with this 

gentlewoman as a prisoner.  Now, sir, I find you do not 

understand what is my duty, for you would make me a justice 

indeed; but I must tell you it is not in my power.  I may keep 

a prisoner when I am charged with him, but 'tis the law and 

the magistrate alone that can discharge that prisoner; therefore 

'tis a mistake, sir; I must carry her before a justice now, 

whether you think well of it or not.'  The mercer was very 

high with the constable at first; but the constable happening 

to be not a hired officer, but a good, substantial kind of man 

(I think he was a corn-handler), and a man of good sense, 

stood to his business, would not discharge me without going 

to a justice of the peace; and I insisted upon it too.  When the 

mercer saw that, 'Well,' says he to the constable, 'you may 

carry her where you please; I have nothing to say to her.'  

'But, sir,' says the constable, 'you will go with us, I hope, for 

'tis you that charged me with her.'  'No, not I,' says the 

mercer; 'I tell you I have nothing to say to her.'  'But pray, sir, 

do,' says the constable; 'I desire it of you for your own sake, 

for the justice  can do nothing without you.'  'Prithee, fellow,' 

says the mercer, 'go about your business; I tell you I have 

nothing to say to the gentlewoman.  I charge you in the king's 

name to dismiss her.'  'Sir,' says the constable, 'I find you 

don't know what it is to be constable; I beg of you don't oblige 

me to be rude to you.'  'I think I need not; you are rude enough 

already,' says the mercer.  'No, sir,' says the constable, 'I am 

not rude; you have broken the peace in bringing an honest 

woman out of the street, when she was about her lawful 

occasion, confining her in your shop, and ill-using her here 

by your servants; and now can you say I am rude to you?  I 

think I am civil to you in not commanding or charging you in 

the king's name to go with me, and charging every man I see 

that passes your door to aid and assist me in carrying you by 

force; this you cannot but know I have power to do, and yet I 

forbear it, and once more entreat you to go with me.'  Well, he 

would not for all this, and gave the constable ill language.  

However, the constable kept his temper, and would not be 

provoked; and then I put in and said, 'Come, Mr. Constable, 

let him alone; I shall find ways enough to fetch him before a 

magistrate, I don't fear that; but there's the fellow,' says I, 

'he was the man that seized on me as I was innocently going 

along the street, and you are a witness of the violence with 

me since; give me leave to charge you with him, and carry 

him before the justice.'  'Yes, madam,' says the constable; 

and turning to the fellow 'Come, young gentleman,' says he 

to the journeyman, 'you must go along with us; I hope you 

are not above the constable's power, though your master is.'



The fellow looked like a condemned thief, and hung back, 

then looked at his master, as if he could help him; and he, like 

a fool, encourage the fellow to be rude, and he truly resisted 

the constable, and pushed him back with a good force when 

he went to lay hold on him, at which the constable knocked 

him down, and called out for help; and immediately the shop 

was filled with people, and the constable seized the master 

and man, and all his servants.



This first ill consequence of this fray was, that the woman 

they had taken, who was really the thief, made off, and got 

clear away in the crowd; and two other that they had stopped 

also; whether they were really guilty or not, that I can say 

nothing to.



By this time some of his neighbours having come in, and, 

upon inquiry, seeing how things went, had endeavoured to 

bring the hot-brained mercer to his senses, and he began to 

be convinced that he was in the wrong; and so at length we 

went all very quietly before the justice, with a mob of about 

five hundred people at our heels; and all the way I went I 

could hear the people ask what was the matter, and other reply 

and say, a mercer had stopped a gentlewoman instead of a 

thief, and had afterwards taken the thief, and now the 

gentlewoman had taken the mercer, and was carrying him 

before the justice.  This pleased the people strangely, and 

made the crowd increase, and they cried out as they went, 

'Which is the rogue?  which is the mercer?'  and  especially 

the women.  Then when they saw him they cried out, 'That's 

he, that's he'; and every now and then came a good dab of 

dirt at him; and thus we marched a good while, till the mercer 

thought fit to desire the constable to call a coach to protect 

himself from the rabble; so we rode the rest of the way, the 

constable and I, and the mercer and his man.



When we came to the justice, which was an ancient gentleman 

in Bloomsbury, the constable giving first a summary account 

of the matter, the justice bade me speak, and tell what I had 

to say.  And first he asked my name, which I was very loth to 

give, but there was no remedy, so I told him my name was 

Mary Flanders, that I was a widow, my husband being a sea 

captain, died on a voyage to Virginia; and some other 

circumstances I told which he could never contradict, and 

that I lodged at present in town with such a person, naming 

my governess; but that I was preparing to go over to America, 

where my husband's effects lay, and that I was going that day 

to buy some clothes to put myself into second mourning, but 

had not yet been in any shop, when that fellow, pointing to 

the mercer's journeyman, came rushing upon me with such 

fury as very much frighted me, and carried me back to his 

master's shop, where, though his master acknowledged I was 

not the person, yet he would not dismiss me, but charged a 

constable with me.



Then I proceeded to tell how the journeyman treated me; how 

they would not suffer me to send for any of my friends; how 

afterwards they found the real thief, and took the very goods 

they had lost upon her, and all the particulars as before.



Then the constable related his case:  his dialogue with the 

mercer about discharging me, and at last his servant's refusing 

to go with him, when he had charged him with him, and his 

master encouraging him to do so, and at last his striking the 

constable, and the like, all as I have told it already.



The justice then heard the mercer and his man.  The mercer 

indeed made a long harangue of the great loss they have daily 

by lifters and thieves; that it was easy for them to mistake, 

and that when he found it he would have dismissed me, etc., 

as above.  As to the journeyman, he had very little to say, but 

that he pretended other of the servants told him that I was 

really the person.



Upon the whole, the just first of all told me very courteously 

I was discharged; that he was very sorry that the mercer's man 

should in his eager pursuit have so little discretion as to take 

up an innocent person for a guilty person; that if he had not 

been so unjust as to detain me afterward, he believed I would 

have forgiven the first affront; that, however, it was not in his 

power to award me any reparation for anything, other than by 

openly reproving them, which he should do; but he supposed 

I would apply to such methods as the law directed; in the 

meantime he would bind him over.



But as to the breach of the peace committed by the journeyman, 

he told me he should give me some satisfaction for that, for he 

should commit him to Newgate for assaulting the constable, 

and for assaulting me also.



Accordingly he sent the fellow to Newgate for that assault, 

and his master gave bail, and so we came away; but I had the  

satisfaction of seeing the mob wait upon them both, as they 

came out, hallooing and throwing stones and dirt at the coaches 

they rode in; and so I came home to my governess.



After this hustle, coming home and telling my governess the 

story, she falls a-laughing at me.  'Why are you merry?' says 

I; 'the story has not so much laughing room in it as you imagine; 

I am sure I have had a great deal of hurry and fright too, with 

a pack of ugly rogues.'  'Laugh!' says my governess; 'I laugh, 

child, to see what a lucky creature you are; why, this job will 

be the best bargain to you that ever you made in your life, if 

you manage it well.  I warrant you,' says she, 'you shall make 

the mercer pay you #500 for damages, besides what you shall 

get out of the journeyman.'



I had other thoughts of the matter than she had; and especially, 

because I had given in my name to the justice of peace; and 

I knew that my name was so well known among the people 

at Hick's Hall, the Old Bailey, and such places, that if this 

cause came to be tried openly, and my name came to be inquired 

into, no court would give much damages, for the reputation 

of a person of such a character.  However, I was obliged to 

begin a prosecution in form, and accordingly my governess 

found me out a very creditable sort of a man to manage it, 

being an attorney of very good business, and of a good 

reputation, and she was certainly in the right of this; for had 

she employed a pettifogging hedge solicitor, or a man not 

known, and not in good reputation, I should have brought it 

to but little.



I met this attorney, and gave him all the particulars at large, 

as they are recited above; and he assured me it was a case, as 

he said, that would very well support itself, and that he did 

not question but that a jury would give very considerable 

damages on such an occasion; so taking his full instructions 

he began the prosecution, and the mercer being arrested, gave 

bail.  A few days after his giving bail, he comes with his 

attorney to my attorney, to let him know that he desired to 

accommodate the matter; that it was all carried on I the heat 

of an unhappy passion; that his client, meaning me, had a 

sharp provoking tongue, that I used them ill, gibing at them, 

and jeering them, even while they believed me to be the very 

person, and that I had provoked them, and the like.



My attorney managed as well on my side; made them believe

 I was a widow of fortune, that I was able to do myself justice, 

and had great friends to stand by me too, who had all made me 

promise to sue to the utmost, and that if it cost me a thousand 

pounds I would be sure to have satisfaction, for that the affronts 

I had received were insufferable.



However, they brought my attorney to this, that he promised 

he would not blow the coals, that if I inclined to accommodation, 

he would not hinder me, and that he would rather persuade 

me to peace than to war; for which they told him he should 

be no loser; all which he told me very honestly, and told me 

that if they offered him any bribe, I should certainly know it; 

but upon the whole he told me very honestly that if I would 

take his opinion, he would advise me to make it up with them, 

for that as they were in a great fright, and were desirous above 

all things to make it up, and knew that, let it be what it would, 

they would be allotted to bear all the costs of the suit; he believed 

they would give me freely more than any jury or court of justice 

would give upon a trial.  I asked him what he thought they 

would be brought to.  He told me he could not tell as to that, 

but he would tell me more when I saw him again.  Some time 

after this, they came again to know if he had talked with me.  

He told them he had; that he found me not so averse to an 

accommodation as some of my friends were, who resented the 

disgrace offered me, and set me on; that they blowed the coals 

in secret, prompting me to revenge, or do myself justice, as 

they called it; so that he could not tell what to say to it; he told 

them he would do his endeavour to persuade me, but he ought 

to be able to tell me what proposal they made.  They pretended 

they could not make any proposal, because it might be made 

use of against them; and he told them, that by the same rule 

he could not make any offers, for that might be pleaded in 

abatement of what damages a jury might be inclined to give.  

However, after some discourse and mutual promises that no 

advantage should be taken on either side, by what was 

transacted then or at any other of those meetings, they came 

to a kind of a treaty; but so remote, and so wide from one 

another, that nothing could be expected from it; for my 

attorney demanded #500 and charges, and they offered #50 

without charges; so they broke off, and the mercer proposed 

to have a meeting with me myself; and my attorney agreed to 

that very readily.



My attorney gave me notice to come to this meeting in good 

clothes, and with some state, that the mercer might see I was 

something more than I seemed to be that time they had me.  

Accordingly I came in a new suit of second mourning, according 

to what I had said at the justice's.  I set myself out, too, as well 

as a widow's dress in second mourning would admit; my 

governess also furnished me with a good pearl necklace, that 

shut in behind with a locket of diamonds, which she had in 

pawn; and I had a very good figure; and as I stayed till I was 

sure they were come, I came in a coach to the door, with my 

maid with me.



When I came into the room the mercer was surprised.  He 

stood up and made his bow, which I took a little notice of, 

and but a little, and went and sat down where my own attorney 

had pointed to me to sit, for it was his house.  After a little 

while the mercer said, he did not know me again, and began 

to make some compliments his way.  I told him, I believed he 

did not know me at first, and that if he had, I believed he 

would not have treated me as he did.



He told me he was very sorry for what had happened, and that 

it was to testify the willingness he had to make all possible 

reparation that he had appointed this meeting; that he hoped 

I would not carry things to extremity, which might be not only 

too great a loss to him, but might be the ruin of his business 

and shop, in which case I might have the satisfaction of 

repaying an injury with an injury ten times greater; but that I 

would then get nothing, whereas he was willing to do me any 

justice that was in his power, without putting himself or me 

to the trouble or charge of a suit at law.



I told him I was glad to hear him talk so much more like a man 

of sense than he did before; that it was true, acknowledgment 

in most cases of  affronts was counted reparation sufficient; 

but this had gone too far to be made up so; that I was not 

revengeful, nor did I seek his ruin, or any man's else, but that 

all my friends were unanimous not to let me so far neglect my 

character as to adjust a thing of this kind without a sufficient 

reparation of honour; that to be taken up for a thief was such 

an indignity as could not be put up; that my character was 

above being treated so by any that knew me, but because in 

my condition of a widow I had been for some time careless 

of  myself, and negligent of myself, I might be taken for such 

a creature, but that for the particular usage I had from him 

afterwards, --and then I repeated all as before; it was so 

provoking I had scarce patience to repeat it.



Well, he acknowledged all, and was might humble indeed; 

he made proposals very handsome; he came up to #100 and 

to pay all the law charges, and added that he would make me 

a present of a very good suit of clothes.  I came down to #300, 

and I demanded that I should publish an advertisement of the 

particulars in the common newspapers.



This was a clause he never could comply with.  However, at 

last he came up, by good management of my attorney, to 

#150 and a suit of black silk clothes; and there I agree, and as 

it were, at my attorney's request, complied with it, he paying 

my attorney's bill and charges, and gave us a good supper into 

the bargain.





When I came to receive the money, I brought my governess  

with me, dressed like an old duchess, and a gentleman very 

well dressed, who we pretended courted me, but I called him 

cousin, and the lawyer was only to hint privately to him that 

his gentleman courted the widow.



He treated us handsomely indeed, and paid the money 

cheerfully enough; so that it cost him #200 in all, or rather 

more.  At our last meeting, when all was agreed, the case of  

the journeyman came up, and the mercer begged very hard 

for him; told me he was a man that had kept a shop of his 

own, and been in good business, had a wife, and several 

children, and was very poor; that he had nothing to make 

satisfaction with, but he should come to beg my pardon on 

his knees, if I desired it, as openly as I pleased.  I had no 

spleen at the saucy rogue, nor were his submissions anything 

to me, since there was nothing to be got by him, so I thought 

it was as good to throw that in generously as not; so I told 

him I did not desire the ruin of any man, and therefore at his 

request I would forgive the wretch; it was below me to seek 

any revenge.



When we were at supper he brought the poor fellow in to 

make acknowledgment, which he would have done with as 

much mean humility as his offence was with insulting 

haughtiness and pride, in which he was an instance of a 

complete baseness of spirit, impious, cruel, and relentless 

when uppermost and in prosperity, abject and low-spirited 

when down in affliction.  However, I abated his cringes, told 

him I forgave him, and desired he might withdraw, as if I did 

not care for the sight of him, though I had forgiven him.



I was now in good circumstances indeed, if I could have 

known my time for leaving off, and my governess often said 

I was the richest of the trade in England; and so I believe I 

was, for I had #700 by me in money, besides clothes, rings, 

some plate, and two gold watches, and all of them stolen, for 

I had innumerable jobs besides these I have mentioned.  Oh! 

had I even now had the grace of  repentance, I had still leisure 

to have looked back upon my follies, and have made some 

reparation; but the satisfaction I was to make for the public 

mischiefs I had done was yet left behind; and I could not forbear 

going abroad again, as I called it now, than any more I could 

when my extremity really drove me out for bread.



It was not long after the affair with the mercer was made up, 

that I went out in an equipage quite different from any I had 

ever appeared in before.  I dressed myself like a beggar woman, 

in the coarsest and most despicable rags I could get, and I 

walked about peering and peeping into every door and window 

I came near; and indeed I was in such a plight now that I knew 

as ill how to behave in as ever I did in any.  I naturally abhorred 

dirt and rags; I had been bred up tight and cleanly, and could 

be no other, whatever condition I was in; so that this was the 

most uneasy disguise to me that ever I put on.  I said presently 

to myself that this would not do, for this was a dress that 

everybody was shy and afraid of; and I thought everybody 

looked at me, as if they were afraid I should come near them, 

lest I should take something from them, or afraid to come near 

me, lest they should get something from me.  I wandered about 

all the evening the first time I went out, and made nothing of 

it, but came home again wet, draggled, and tired.  However, 

I went out again the next night, and then I met with a little 

adventure, which had like to have cost me dear.  As I was 

standing near a tavern door, there comes a gentleman on 

horseback, and lights at the door, and wanting to go into the 

tavern, he calls one of the drawers to hold his horse.  He stayed 

pretty long in the tavern, and the drawer heard his master call, 

and thought he would be angry with him.  Seeing me stand by 

him, he called to me, 'Here, woman,' says he, 'hold this horse 

a while, till I go in; if the gentleman comes, he'll give you 

something.'  'Yes,' says I, and takes the horse, and walks off 

with him very soberly, and carried him to my governess.



This had been a booty to those that had understood it; but 

never was poor thief more at a loss to know what to do with 

anything that was stolen; for when I came home, my governess 

was quite confounded, and what to do with the creature, we 

neither of us knew.  To send him to a sable was doing nothing, 

for it was certain that public notice would be given in the 

Gazette, and the horse described, so that we durst not go to 

fetch it again.



All the remedy we had for this unlucky adventure was to go 

and set up the horse at an inn, and send a note by a porter to 

the tavern, that the gentleman's horse that was lost such a time 

was left at such an inn, and that he might be had there; that 

the poor woman that held him, having led him about the street, 

not being able to lead him back again, had left him there.  We 

might have waited till the owner had published and offered a 

reward, but we did not care to venture the receiving the reward.



So this was a robbery and no robbery, for little was lost by it, 

and nothing was got by it, and I was quite sick of going out in 

a beggar's dress; it did not answer at all, and besides, I thought 

it was ominous and threatening.



While I was in this disguise, I fell in with a parcel of folks of 

a worse kind than any I ever sorted with, and I saw a little into 

their ways too.  These were coiners of money, and they made 

some very good offers to me, as to profit; but the part they 

would have had me have embarked in was the most dangerous 

part.  I mean that of the very working the die, as they call it, 

which, had I been taken, had been certain death, and that at a 

stake--I say, to be burnt to death at a stake; so that though I 

was to appearance but a beggar, and they promised mountains 

of gold and silver to me to engage, yet it would not do.  It is 

true, if I had been really a beggar, or had been desperate as 

when I began, I might perhaps have closed with it; for what 

care they to die that can't tell how to live?  But at present 

this was not my condition, at least I was for no such terrible 

risks as those; besides, the very thoughts of being burnt at a 

stake struck terror into my very soul, chilled my blood, and 

gave me the vapours to such a degree, as I could not think 

of it without trembling.



This put an end to my disguise too, for as I did not like the 

proposal, so I did not tell them so, but seemed to relish it, and 

promised to meet again.  But I durst see them no more; for if I 

had seen them, and not complied, though I had declined it with 

the greatest assurance of secrecy in the world, they would have 

gone near to have murdered me, to make sure work, and make 

themselves easy, as they call it.  What kind of easiness that is, 

they may best judge that understand how easy men are that 

can murder people to prevent danger.



This and horse-stealing were things quite out of my way, and 

I might easily resolve I would have to more to say to them; my 

business seemed to lie another way, and though it had hazard 

enough in it too, yet it was more suitable to me, and what had 

more of art in it, and more room to escape, and more chances 

for a-coming off if a surprise should happen.



I had several proposals made also to me about that time, to 

come into a gang of house-breakers; but that was a thing I had 

no mind to venture at neither, any more than I had at the 

coining trade.  I offered to go along with two men and a 

woman, that made it their business to get into houses by 

stratagem, and with them I was willing enough to venture.  

But there were three of them already, and they did not care 

to part, nor I to have too many in a gang, so I did not close 

with them, but declined them, and they paid dear for their 

next attempt.



But at length I met with a woman that had often told me what 

adventures she had made, and with success, at the waterside, 

and I closed with her, and we drove on our business pretty 

well.  One day we came among some Dutch people at St. 

Catherine's, where we went on pretence to buy goods that 

were privately got on shore.  I was two or three times in a 

house where we saw a good quantity of prohibited goods, 

and my companion once brought away three pieces of Dutch 

black silk that turned to good account, and I had my share of 

it; but in all the journeys I made by myself, I could not get an 

opportunity to do anything, so I laid it aside, for I had been so 

often, that they began to suspect something, and were so shy, 

that I saw nothing was to be done.



This baulked me a little, and I resolved to push at something 

or other, for I was not used to come back so often without 

purchase; so the next day I dressed myself up fine, and took 

a walk to the other end of the town.  I passed through the 

Exchange in the Strand, but had no notion of finding anything 

to do there, when on a sudden I saw a great cluttering in the 

place, and all the people, shopkeepers as well as others, 

standing up and staring; and what should it be but some great 

duchess come into the Exchange, and they said the queen was 

coming.  I set myself close up to a shop-side with my back to 

the counter, as if to let the crowd pass by, when keeping my 

eye upon a parcel of lace which the shopkeeper was showing 

to some ladies that stood by me, the shopkeeper and her maid 

were so taken up with looking to see who was coming, and 

what shop they would go to, that I found means to slip a paper 

of lace into my pocket and come clear off with it; so the 

lady-milliner paid dear enough for her gaping after the queen.



I went off from the shop, as if driven along by the throng, and 

mingling myself with the crowd, went out at the other door 

of the Exchange, and so got away before they missed their 

lace; and because I would not be followed, I called a coach 

and shut myself up in it.  I had scarce shut the coach doors up, 

but I saw the milliner's maid and five or six more come 

running out into the street, and crying out as if they were 

frightened.  They did not cry 'Stop thief!' because nobody ran 

away, but I could hear the word 'robbed,' and 'lace,' two or 

three times, and saw the wench wringing her hands, and run 

staring to and again, like one scared.  The coachman that had 

taken me up was getting up into the box, but was not quite up, 

so that the horse had not begun to move; so that I was terrible 

uneasy, and I took the packet of lace and laid it ready to have 

dropped it out at the flap of the coach, which opens before, 

just behind the coachman; but to my great satisfaction, in less 

than a minute the coach began to move, that is to say, as soon 

as the coachman had got up and spoken to his horses; so he 

drove away without any interruption, and I brought off my 

purchase, which was work near #20.



The next day I dressed up again, but in quite different clothes, 

and walked the same way again, but nothing offered till I 

came into St. James's Park, where I saw abundance of fine 

ladies in the Park, walking in the Mall, and among the rest 

there was a little miss, a young lady of about twelve or thirteen 

years old, and she had a sister, as I suppose it was, with her, 

that might be about nine years old.  I observed the biggest 

had a fine gold watch on, and a good necklace of pearl, and 

they had a footman in livery with them; but as it is not usual 

for the footman to go behind the ladies in the Mall, so I 

observed the footman stopped at their going into the Mall, 

and the biggest of the sisters spoke to him, which I perceived 

was to bid him be just there when they came back.



When I heard her dismiss the footman, I stepped up to him 

and asked him, what little lady that was? and held a little chat 

with him about what a pretty child it was with her, and how 

genteel and well-carriaged the lady, the eldest, would be:  how 

womanish, and how grave; and the fool of a fellow told me 

presently who she was; that she was Sir Thomas----'s eldest 

daughter, of Essex, and that she was a great fortune; that her 

mother was not come to town yet; but she was with Sir 

William----'s lady, of Suffolk, at her lodging in Suffolk 

Street, and a great deal more; that they had a maid and a 

woman to wait on them, besides Sir Thomas's coach, the 

coachman, and himself; and that young lady was governess 

to the whole family, as well here as at home too; and, in short, 

told me abundance of things enough for my business.



I was very well dressed, and had my gold watch as well as 

she; so I left the footman, and I puts myself in a rank with 

this young lady, having stayed till she had taken one double 

turn in the Mall, and was going forward again; by and by I 

saluted her by her name, with the title of Lady Betty.  I asked 

her when she heard from her father; when my lady her mother 

would be in town, and how she did.



I talked so familiarly to her of her whole family that she could 

not suspect but that I knew them all intimately.  I asked her 

why she would come abroad without Mrs. Chime with her 

(that was the name of her woman) to take of Mrs. Judith, that 

was her sister.  Then I entered into a long chat with her about 

her sister, what a fine little lady she was, and asked her if she 

had learned French, and a thousand such little things to entertain 

her, when on a sudden we saw the guards come, and the crowd 

ran to see the king go by to the Parliament House.



The ladies ran all to the side of the Mall, and I helped my 

lady to stand upon the edge of the boards on the side of the 

Mall, that she might be high enough to see; and took the little 

one and lifter her quite up; during which, I took care to convey 

the gold watch so clean away from the Lady Betty, that she 

never felt it, nor missed it, till all the crowd was gone, and she 

was gotten into the middle of the Mall among the other ladies.



I took my leave of her in the very crowd, and said to her, as 

if in haste, 'Dear Lady Betty, take care of your little sister.'  

And so the crowd did as it were thrust me away from her, and 

that I was obliged unwillingly to take my leave.



The hurry in such cases is immediately over, and the place 

clear as soon as the king is gone by; but as there is always a 

great running and clutter just as the king passes, so having 

dropped the two little ladies, and done my business with them 

without any miscarriage, I kept hurrying on among the crowd, 

as if I ran to see the king, and so I got before the crowd and 

kept so till I came to the end of the Mall, when the king going 

on towards the Horse Guards, I went forward to the passage, 

which went then through against the lower end of the Haymarket, 

and there I bestowed a coach upon myself, and made off, and I 

confess I have not yet been so good as my word, viz. to go and 

visit my Lady Betty.



I was once of the mind to venture staying with Lady Betty till 

she missed the watch, and so have made a great outcry about 

it with her, and have got her into the coach, and put myself in 

the coach with her, and have gone home with her; for she 

appeared so fond of me, and so perfectly deceived by my so 

readily talking to her of all her relations and family, that I 

thought it was very easy to push the thing farther, and to have 

got at least the necklace of pearl; but when I considered that 

though the child would not perhaps have suspected me, other 

people might, and that if I was searched I should be discovered, 

I thought it was best to go off with what I had got, and be 

satisfied.



I came accidentally afterwards to hear, that when the young 

lady missed her watch, she made a great outcry in the Park, 

and sent her footman up and down to see if he could find me 

out, she having described me so perfectly that he knew presently 

that it was the same person that had stood and talked so long 

with him, and asked him so many questions about them; but I 

gone far enough out of their reach before she could come at 

her footman to tell him the story.



I made another adventure after this, of a nature different from 

all I had been concerned in yet, and this was at a gaming-house 

near Covent Garden.



I saw several people go in and out; and I stood in the passage 

a good while with another woman with me, and seeing a  

gentleman go up that seemed to be of more than ordinary 

fashion, I said to him, 'Sir, pray don't they give women leave 

to go up?' 'Yes, madam,' says he, 'and to play too, if they 

please.'  'I mean so, sir,' said I.  And with that he said he 

would introduce me if I had a mind; so I followed him to the 

door, and he looking in, 'There, madam,' says he, 'are the 

gamesters, if you have a mind to venture.'  I looked in and 

said to my comrade aloud, 'Here's nothing but men; I won't 

venture among them.'  At which one of the gentlemen cried 

out, 'You need not be afraid, madam, here's none but fair 

gamesters; you are very welcome to come and set what you 

please.'  so I went a little nearer and looked on, and some of 

them brought me a chair, and I sat down and saw the box and 

dice go round apace; then I said to my comrade, 'The gentlemen 

play too high for us; come, let us go.'



The people were all very civil, and one gentleman in particular 

encouraged me, and said, 'Come, madam, if you please to 

venture, if you dare trust me, I'll answer for it you shall have 

nothing put upon you here.'  'No, sir,' said I, smiling, 'I hope 

the gentlemen would not cheat a woman.'  But still I declined 

venturing, though I pulled out a purse with money in it, that 

they might see I did not want money.



After I had sat a while, one gentleman said to me, jeering, 

'Come, madam, I see you are afraid to venture for yourself; 

I always had good luck with the ladies, you shall set for me, 

if you won't set for yourself.'  I told him, 'sir, I should be very 

loth to lose your money,' though I added, 'I am pretty lucky 

too; but the gentlemen play so high, that I dare not indeed 

venture my own.'



'Well, well,' says he, 'there's ten guineas, madam; set them 

for me.'  so I took his money and set, himself looking on.  I 

ran out nine of the guineas by one and two at a time, and then 

the box coming to the next man to me, my gentleman gave 

me ten guineas more, and made me set five of them at once, 

and the gentleman who had the box threw out, so there was 

five guineas of his money again.  He was encouraged at this, 

and made me take the box, which was a bold venture.  However, 

I held the box so long that I had gained him his whole money, 

and had a good handful of guineas in my lap, and which was 

the better luck, when I threw out, I threw but at one or two of 

those that had set me, and so went off easy.



When I was come this length, I offered the gentleman all the 

gold, for it was his own; and so would have had him play for 

himself, pretending I did not understand the game well enough.  

He laughed, and said if I had but good luck, it was no matter 

whether I understood the game or no; but I should not leave 

off.  However, he took out the fifteen guineas that he had put 

in at first, and bade me play with the rest.  I would have told 

them to see how much I had got, but he said, 'No, no, don't 

tell them, I believe you are very honest, and 'tis bad luck to 

tell them'; so I played on.



I understood the game well enough, though I pretended I did 

not, and played cautiously.  It was to keep a good stock in my 

lap, out of which I every now and then conveyed some into 

my pocket, but in such a manner, and at such convenient times, 

as I was sure he could not see it.



I played a great while, and had very good luck for him; but 

the last time I held the box, they set me high, and I threw 

boldly at all; I held the box till I gained near fourscore guineas, 

but lost above half of it back in the last throw; so I got up, for 

I was afraid I should lose it all back again, and said to him, 

'Pray come, sir, now, and take it and play for yourself; I think 

I have done pretty well for you.'  He would have had me play 

on, but it grew late, and I desired to be excused.  When I gave 

it up to him, I told him I hoped he would give me leave to tell 

it now, that I might see what I had gained, and how lucky I 

had been for him; when I told them, there were threescore 

and three guineas.  'Ay,' says I, 'if it had not been for that 

unlucky throw, I had got you a hundred guineas.'  So I gave 

him all the money, but he would not take it till I had put my 

hand into it, and taken some for myself, and bid me please 

myself.  I refused it, and was positive I would not take it 

myself; if he had a mind to anything of that kind, it should 

be all his own doings.



The rest of the gentlemen seeing us striving cried, 'Give it 

her all'; but I absolutely refused that.  Then one of them said, 

'D----n ye, jack, halve it with her; don't you know you should 

be always upon even terms with the ladies.'  So, in short, he 

divided it with me, and I brought away thirty guineas, besides 

about forty-three which I had stole privately, which I was 

sorry for afterward, because he was so generous.



Thus I brought home seventy-three guineas, and let my old 

governess see what good luck I had at play.  However, it was 

her advice that I should not venture again, and I took her 

counsel, for I never went there any more; for I knew as well 

as she, if the itch of play came in, I might soon lose that, and 

all the rest of what I had got.



Fortune had smiled upon me to that degree, and I had thriven 

so much, and my governess too, for she always had a share 

with me, that really the old gentlewoman began to talk of 

leaving off while we were well, and being satisfied with what 

we had got; but, I know not what fate guided me, I was as 

backward to it now as she was when I proposed it to her 

before, and so in an ill hour we gave over the thoughts of it 

for the present, and, in a word, I grew more hardened and 

audacious than ever, and the success I had made my name as 

famous as any thief of my sort ever had been at Newgate, and 

in the Old Bailey.



I had sometime taken the liberty to play the same gave over 

again, which is not according to practice, which however 

succeeded not amiss; but generally I took up new figures, and 

contrived to appear in new shapes every time I went abroad.



It was not a rumbling time of the year, and the gentlemen 

being most of them gone out of town, Tunbridge, and Epsom, 

and such places were full of people.  But the city was thin, 

and I thought our trade felt it a little, as well as other; so that 

at the latter end of the year I joined myself with a gang who 

usually go every year to Stourbridge Fair, and from thence to 

Bury Fair, in Suffolk.  We promised ourselves great things 

there, but when I came to see how things were, I was weary 

of it presently; for except mere picking of pockets, there was 

little worth meddling with; neither, if a booty had been made, 

was it so easy carrying it off, nor was there such a variety of 

occasion for business in our way, as in London; all that I made 

of the whole journey was a gold watch at Bury Fair, and a 

small parcel of linen at Cambridge, which gave me an occasion 

to take leave of the place.  It was on old bite, and I though 

might do with a country shopkeeper, though in London it 

would not.



I bought at a linen-draper's shop, not in the fair, but in the 

town of Cambridge, as much fine holland and other things as 

came to about seven pounds; when I had done, I bade them 

be sent to such an inn, where I had purposely taken up my 

being the same morning, as if I was to lodge there that night.



I ordered the draper to send them home to me, about such an 

hour, to the inn where I lay, and I would pay him his money.  

At the time appointed the draper sends the goods, and I placed 

one of our gang at the chamber door, and when the innkeeper's 

maid brought the messenger to the door, who was a young 

fellow, an apprentice, almost a man, she tells him her mistress 

was asleep, but if he would leave the things and call in about 

an hour, I should be awake, and he might have the money.  He 

left the parcel very readily, and goes his way, and in about 

half an hour my maid and I walked off, and that very evening 

I hired a horse, and a man to ride before me, and went to 

Newmarket, and from thence got my passage in a coach that 

was not quite full to St. Edmund's Bury, where, as I told you, 

I could make but little of my trade, only at a little country 

opera-house made a shift to carry off a gold watch from a 

lady's side, who was not only intolerably merry, but, as I 

thought, a little fuddled, which made my work much easier.



I made off with this little booty to Ipswich, and from thence 

to Harwich, where I went into an inn, as if I had newly arrived 

from Holland, not doubting but I should make some purchase 

among the foreigners that came on shore there; but I found 

them generally empty of things of value, except what was in 

their portmanteaux and Dutch hampers, which were generally 

guarded by footmen; however, I fairly got one of their 

portmanteaux one evening out of the chamber where the 

gentleman lay, the footman being fast asleep on the bed, and 

I suppose very drunk.



The room in which I lodged lay next to the Dutchman's, and 

having dragged the heavy thing with much ado out of the 

chamber into mine, I went out into the street, to see if I could 

find any possibility of carrying it off.  I walked about a great 

while, but could see no probability either of getting out the 

thing, or of conveying away the goods that were in it if I had 

opened it, the town being so small, and I a perfect stranger in 

it; so I was returning with a resolution to carry it back again, 

and leave it where I found it.  Just in that very moment I heard 

a man make a noise to some people to make haste, for the boat 

was going to put off, and the tide would be spent.  I called to 

the fellow, 'What boat is it, friend,' says I, 'that you belong to?'  

'The Ipswich wherry, madam,' says he.  'When do you go off?' 

says I.  'This moment, madam,' says he; 'do you want to go 

thither?'  'Yes,' said I, 'if you can stay till I fetch my things.'  

'Where are your  things, madam?' says he.  'At such an inn,' 

said I.  'Well, I'll go with you, madam,' says he, very civilly, 

'and bring them for you.' 'Come away, then,' says I, and takes 

him with me.



The people of the inn were in a great hurry, the packet-boat 

from Holland being just come in, and two coaches just come 

also with passengers from London, for another packet-boat 

that was going off for Holland, which coaches were to go back 

next day with the passengers that were just landed.  In this 

hurry it was not much minded that I came to the bar and paid 

my reckoning, telling my landlady I had gotten my passage by 

sea in a wherry.



These wherries are large vessels, with good accommodation 

for carrying passengers from Harwich to London; and though 

they are called wherries, which is a word used in the Thames 

for a small boat rowed with one or two men, yet these are 

vessels able to carry twenty passengers, and ten or fifteen tons 

of goods, and fitted to bear the sea.  All this I had found out 

by inquiring the night before into the several ways of going 

to London.



My landlady was very courteous, took my money for my 

reckoning, but was called away, all the house being in a hurry.  

So I left her, took the fellow up to my chamber, gave him the 

trunk, or portmanteau, for it was like a trunk, and wrapped it 

about with an old apron, and he went directly to his boat with 

it, and I after him, nobody asking us the least question about 

it; as for the drunken Dutch footman he was still asleep, and 

his master with other foreign gentlemen at supper, and very 

merry below, so I went clean off with it to Ipswich; and going 

in the night, the people of the house knew nothing but that I 

was gone to London by the Harwich wherry, as I had told my 

landlady.



I was plagued at Ipswich with the custom-house officers, who 

stopped my trunk, as I called it, and would open and search it.  

I was willing, I told them, they should search it, but husband 

had the key, and he was not yet come from Harwich; this I 

said, that if upon searching it they should find all the things 

be such as properly belonged to a man rather than a woman, 

it should not seem strange to them.  However, they being 

positive to open the trunk I consented to have it be broken 

open, that is to say, to have the lock taken off, which was not 

difficult.



They found nothing for their turn, for the trunk had been 

searched before, but they discovered several things very much 

to my satisfaction, as particularly a parcel of money in French 

pistols, and some Dutch ducatoons or rix-dollars, and the rest 

was chiefly two periwigs, wearing-linen, and razors, wash-balls, 

perfumes, and other useful things necessary for a gentleman, 

which all passed for my husband's, and so I was quit to them.



It was now very early in the morning, and not light, and I 

knew not well what course to take; for I made no doubt but I 

should be pursued in the morning, and perhaps be taken with 

the things about me; so I resolved upon taking new measures.  

I went publicly to an inn in the town with my trunk, as I called 

it, and having taken the substance out, I did not think the 

lumber of it worth my concern; however, I gave it the landlady 

of the house with a charge to take great care of it, and lay it 

up safe till I should come again, and away I walked in to the 

street.



When I was got into the town a great way from the inn, I met 

with an ancient woman who had just opened her door, and I 

fell into chat with her, and asked her a great many wild 

questions of things all remote to my purpose and design; but 

in my discourse I found by her how the town was situated, 

that I was in a street that went out towards Hadley, but that 

such a street went towards the water-side, such a street towards 

Colchester, and so the London road lay there.



I had soon my ends of this old woman, for I only wanted to 

know which was the London road, and away I walked as fast 

as I could; not that I intended to go on foot, either to London 

or to Colchester, but I wanted to get quietly away from Ipswich.



I walked about two or three miles, and then I met a plain 

countryman, who was busy about some husbandry work, I did 

not know what, and I asked him a great many questions first, 

not much to the purpose, but at last told him I was going for 

London, and the coach was full, and I could not get a passage, 

and asked him if he could tell me where to hire a horse that 

would carry double, and an honest man to ride before me to 

Colchester, that so I might get a place there in the coaches.  

The honest clown looked earnestly at me, and said nothing 

for above half a minute, when, scratching his poll, 'A horse, 

say you and to Colchester, to carry double?  why yes, mistress, 

alack-a-day, you may have horses enough for money.'  'Well, 

friend,' says I, 'that I take for granted; I don't expect it without 

money.'  'Why, but, mistress,' says he, 'how much are you 

willing to give?'  'Nay,' says I again, 'friend, I don't know 

what your rates are in the country here, for I am a stranger; 

but if you can get one for me, get it as cheap as you can, and 

I'll give you somewhat for your pains.'



'Why, that's honestly said too,' says the countryman.  'Not 

so honest, neither,' said I to myself, 'if thou knewest all.'  

'Why, mistress,' says he, 'I have a horse that will carry double, 

and I don't much care if I go myself with you,' and the like.  

'Will you?' says I; 'well, I believe you are an honest man; if 

you will, I shall be glad of it; I'll pay you in reason.'  'Why, 

look ye, mistress,' says he, 'I won't be out of reason with you, 

then; if I carry you to Colchester, it will be worth five shillings 

for myself and my horse, for I shall hardly come back to-night.'



In short, I hired the honest man and his horse; but when we 

came to a town upon the road (I do not remember the name 

of it, but it stands upon a river), I pretended myself very ill, 

and I could go no farther that night but if he would stay there 

with me, because I was a stranger, I would pay him for himself 

and his horse with all my heart.



This I did because I knew the Dutch gentlemen and their 

servants would be upon the road that day, either in the 

stagecoaches or riding post, and I did not know but the drunken 

fellow, or somebody else that might have seen me at Harwich, 

might see me again, and so I thought that in one day's stop 

they would be all gone by.



We lay all that night there, and the next morning it was not 

very early when I set out, so that it was near ten o'clock by 

the time I got to Colchester.  It was no little pleasure that I 

saw the town where I had so many pleasant days, and I made 

many inquiries after the good old friends I had once had there, 

but could make little out; they were all dead or removed.  The 

young ladies had been all married or gone to London; the old 

gentleman and the old lady that had been my early benefacress 

all dead; and which troubled me most, the young gentleman 

my first lover, and afterwards my brother-in-law, was dead; 

but two sons, men grown, were left of him, but they too were 

transplanted to London.



I dismissed my old man here, and stayed incognito for three 

or four days in Colchester, and then took a passage in a waggon, 

because I would not venture being seen in the Harwich coaches.  

But I needed not have used so much caution, for there was 

nobody in Harwich but the woman of the house could have 

known me; nor was it rational to think that she, considering 

the hurry she was in, and that she never saw me but once, and 

that by candlelight, should have ever discovered me.



I was now returned to London, and though by the accident of 

the last adventure I got something considerable, yet I was not 

fond of any more country rambles, nor should I have ventured 

abroad again if I had carried the trade on to the end of my 

days. I gave my governess a history of my travels; she liked 

the Harwich journey well enough, and in discoursing of these 

things between ourselves she observed, that a thief being a 

creature that watches the advantages of other people's mistakes, 

'tis impossible but that to one that is vigilant and industrious 

many opportunities must happen, and therefore she thought 

that one so exquisitely keen in the trade as I was, would scarce 

fail of something extraordinary wherever I went.



On the other hand, every branch of my story, if duly considered, 

may be useful to honest people, and afford a due caution to 

people of some sort or other to guard against the like surprises, 

and to have their eyes about them when they have to do with 

strangers of any kind, for 'tis very seldom that some snare or 

other is not in their way.  The moral, indeed, of all my history 

is left to be gathered by the senses and judgment of the reader; 

I am not qualified to preach to them.  Let the experience of 

one creature completely wicked, and completely miserable, 

be a storehouse of useful warning to those that read.



I am drawing now towards a new variety of the scenes of life.  

Upon my return, being hardened by along race of crime, and 

success unparalleled, at least in the reach of my own knowledge, 

I had, as I have said, no thoughts of laying down a trade which, 

if I was to judge by the example of other, must, however, end 

at last in misery and sorrow.



It was on the Christmas day following, in the evening, that, 

to finish a long train of wickedness, I went abroad to see what 

might offer in my way; when going by a working silversmith's 

in Foster Lane, I saw a tempting bait indeed, and not be 

resisted by one of my occupation, for the shop had nobody in 

it, as I could see, and a great deal of loose plate lay in the 

window, and at the seat of the man, who usually, as I suppose, 

worked at one side of the shop.



I went boldly in, and was just going to lay my hand upon a 

piece of plate, and might have done it, and carried it clear off, 

for any care that the men who belonged to the shop had taken 

of it; but an officious fellow in a house, not a shop, on the 

other side of the way, seeing me go in, and observing that 

there was nobody in the shop, comes running over the street, 

and into the shop, and without asking me what I was, or who, 

seizes upon me, an cries out for the people of the house.



I had not, as I said above, touched anything in the shop, and 

seeing a glimpse of somebody running over to the shop, I had 

so much presence of mind as to knock very  hard with my 

foot on the floor of the house, and was just calling out too, 

when the fellow laid hands on me.



However, as I had always most courage when I was in most 

danger, so when the fellow laid hands on me, I stood very 

high upon it, that I came in to buy half a dozen of silver spoons; 

and to my good fortune, it was a silversmith's that sold plate, 

as well as worked plate for other shops.  The fellow laughed 

at that part, and put such a value upon the service that he had 

done his neighbour, that he would have it be that I came not 

to buy, but to steal; and raising a great crowd.  I said to the 

master of the shop, who by this time was fetched home from 

some neighbouring place, that it was in vain to make noise, 

and enter into talk there of the case; the fellow had insisted 

that I came to steal, and he must prove it, and I desired we 

might go before a magistrate without any more words; for I 

began to see I should be too hard for the man that had seized me.



The master and mistress of the shop were really not so violent 

as the man from t'other side of the way; and the man said, 

'Mistress, you might come into the shop with a good design 

for aught I know, but it seemed a dangerous thing for you to 

come into such a shop as mine is, when you see nobody there; 

and I cannot do justice to my neighbour, who was so kind to 

me, as not to acknowledge he had reason on his side; though, 

upon the whole, I do not find you attempted to take anything, 

and I really know not what to do in it.'  I pressed him to go 

before a magistrate with me, and if anything could be proved 

on me that was like a design of robbery, I should willingly 

submit, but if not, I expected reparation.



Just while we were in this debate, and a crowd of people 

gathered about the door, came by Sir T. B., an alderman of 

the city, and justice of the peace, and the goldsmith hearing 

of it, goes out, and entreated his worship to come in and 

decide the case.



Give the goldsmith his due, he told his story with a great deal 

of justice and moderation, and the fellow that had come over, 

and seized upon me, told his with as much heat and foolish 

passion, which did me good still, rather than harm.  It came 

then to my turn to speak, and I told his worship that I was a 

stranger in London, being newly come out of the north; that I 

lodged in such a place, that I was passing this street, and went 

into the goldsmith's shop to buy half a dozen of spoons.  By 

great luck I had an old silver spoon in my pocket, which I 

pulled out, and told him I had carried that spoon to match it 

with half a dozen of new ones,that it might match some I had 

in the country.



That seeing nobody I the shop, I knocked with my foot very 

hard to make the people hear, and had also called aloud with 

my voice; 'tis true, there was loose plate in the shop, but that 

nobody could say I had touched any of it, or gone near it; that 

a fellow came running into the shop out of the street, and laid 

hands on me in a furious manner, in the very moments while 

I was calling for the people of the house; that if he had really 

had a mind to have done his neighbour any service, he should 

have stood at a distance, and silently watched to see whether 

I had touched anything or no, and then have clapped in upon 

me, and taken me in the fact.  'That is very true,' says Mr. 

Alderman, and turning to the fellow that stopped me, he asked 

him if it was true that I knocked with my foot?  He said, yes, 

I had knocked, but that might be because of his coming.  'Nay,' 

says the alderman, taking him short, 'now you contradict 

yourself, for just now you said she was in the shop with her 

back to you, and did not see you till you came upon her.'  Now 

it was true that my back was partly to the street, but yet as my 

business was of a kind that required me to have my eyes every 

way, so I really had a glance of him running over, as I said 

before, though he did not perceive it.



After a full hearing, the alderman gave it as his opinion that 

his neighbour was under a mistake, and that I was innocent, 

and the goldsmith acquiesced in it too, and his wife, and so 

I was dismissed; but as I was going to depart, Mr. Alderman 

said, 'But hold, madam, if you were designing to buy spoons, 

I hope you will not let my friend here lose his customer by 

the mistake.'  I readily answered, 'No, sir, I'll buy the spoons 

still, if he can match my odd spoon, which I brought for a 

pattern'; and the goldsmith showed me some of the very same 

fashion.  So he weighed the spoons, and they came to five-and-thirty 

shillings, so I pulls out my purse to pay him, in which I had 

near twenty guineas, for I never went without such a sum 

about me, whatever might happen, and I found it of use at 

other times as well as now.



When Mr. Alderman saw my money, he said, 'Well, madam, 

now I am satisfied you were wronged, and it was for this 

reason that I moved you should buy the spoons, and stayed 

till you had bought them, for if you had not had money to pay 

for them, I should have suspected that you did not come into 

the shop with an intent to buy, for indeed the sort of people 

who come upon these designs that you have been charged 

with, are seldom troubled with much gold in their pockets, 

as I see you are.'



I smiled, and told his worship, that then I owed something of 

his favour to my money, but I hoped he saw reason also in 

the justice he had done me before.  He said, yes, he had, but 

this had confirmed his opinion, and he was fully satisfied now 

of my having been injured.  So I came off with flying colours, 

though from an affair in which I was at the very brink of 

destruction.



It was but three days after this, that not at all made cautious 

by my former danger, as I used to be, and still pursuing the 

art which I had so long been employed in, I ventured into a 

house where I saw the doors open, and furnished myself, as 

I though verily without being perceived, with two pieces of 

flowered silks, such as they call brocaded silk, very rich.  It 

was not a mercer's shop, nor a warehouse of a mercer, but 

looked like a private dwelling-house, and was, it seems, 

inhabited by a man that sold goods for the weavers to the 

mercers, like a broker or factor.



That I may make short of this black part of this story, I was 

attacked by two wenches that came open-mouthed at me just 

as I was going out at the door, and one of them pulled me 

back into the room, while the other shut the door upon me.  

I would have given them good words, but there was no room 

for it, two fiery dragons could not have been more furious 

than they were; they tore my clothes, bullied and roared as if 

they would have murdered me; the mistress of the house came 

next, and then the master, and all outrageous, for a while especially.



I gave the master very good words, told him the door was 

open, and things were a temptation to me, that I was poor and  

distressed, and poverty was when many could not resist, and 

begged him with tears to have pity on me.  The mistress of 

the house was moved with compassion, and inclined to have 

let me go, and had almost persuaded her husband to it also, 

but the saucy wenches were run, even before they were sent, 

and had fetched a constable, and then the master said he could 

not go back, I must go before a justice, and answered his wife 

that he might come into trouble himself if he should let me go.



The sight of the constable, indeed, struck me with terror, and 

I thought I should have sunk into the ground.  I fell into 

faintings, and indeed the people themselves thought I would 

have died, when the woman argued again for me, and entreated 

her husband, seeing they had lost nothing, to let me go.  I 

offered him to pay for the two pieces, whatever the value was, 

though I had not got them, and argued that as he had his goods, 

and had really lost nothing, it would be cruel to pursue me to 

death, and have my blood for the bare attempt of taking them.  

I put the constable in mind that I had broke no doors, nor 

carried anything away; and when I came to the justice, and 

pleaded there that I had neither broken anything to get in, nor 

carried anything out, the justice was inclined to have released 

me; but the first saucy jade that stopped me, affirming that I 

was going out with the goods, but that she stopped me and 

pulled me back as I was upon the threshold, the justice upon 

that point committed me, and I was carried to Newgate.  That 

horrid place! my very blood chills at the mention of its name; 

the place where so many of my comrades had been locked up, 

and from whence they went to the fatal tree; the place where 

my mother suffered so deeply, where I was brought into the 

world, and from whence I expected no redemption but by an 

infamous death:  to conclude, the place that had so long 

expected me, and which with so much art and success I had 

so long avoided.



I was not fixed indeed; 'tis impossible to describe the terror 

of my mind, when I was first brought in, and when I looked 

around upon all the horrors of that dismal place.  I looked on 

myself as lost, and that I had nothing to think of but of going 

out of the world, and that with the utmost infamy:  the hellish 

noise, the roaring, swearing, and clamour, the stench and 

nastiness, and all the dreadful crowd of afflicting things that 

I saw there, joined together to make the place seem an emblem 

of hell itself, and a kind of an entrance into it.



Now I reproached myself with the many hints I had had, as I 

have mentioned above, from my own reason, from the sense 

of my good circumstances, and of the many dangers I had 

escaped, to leave off while I was well, and how I had withstood 

them all, and hardened my thoughts against all fear.  It seemed 

to me that I was hurried on by an inevitable and unseen fate 

to this day of misery, and that now I was to expiate all my 

offences at the gallows; that I was now to give satisfaction to 

justice with my blood, and that I was come to the last hour of 

my life and of my wickedness together.  These things poured 

themselves in upon my thoughts in a confused manner, and 

left me overwhelmed with melancholy and despair. 



Them I repented heartily of all my life past, but that repentance 

yielded me no satisfaction, no peace, no, not in the least, 

because, as I said to myself, it was repenting after the power 

of further sinning was taken away.  I seemed not to mourn that 

I had committed such crimes, and for the fact as it was an 

offence against God and my neighbour, but I mourned that I 

was to be punished for it.  I was a penitent, as I thought, not 

that I had sinned, but that I was to suffer, and this took away 

all the comfort, and even the hope of my repentance in my 

own thoughts.



I got no sleep for several nights or days after I came into that 

wretched place, and glad I would have been for some time to 

have died there, though I did not consider dying as it ought to 

be considered neither; indeed, nothing could be filled with 

more horror to my imagination than the very place, nothing 

was more odious to me than the company that was there.  Oh! 

if I had but been sent to any place in the world, and not to 

Newgate, I should have thought myself happy.



In the next place, how did the hardened wretches that were 

there before me triumph over me!  What! Mrs. Flanders come 

to Newgate at last?  What! Mrs. Mary, Mrs. Molly, and after 

that plain Moll Flanders? They thought the devil had helped 

me, they said, that I had reigned so long; they expected me 

there many years ago, and was I come at last?  Then they 

flouted me with my dejections, welcomed me to the place, 

wished me joy, bid me have a good heart, not to be cast down, 

things might not be so bad as I feared, and the like; then called 

for brandy, and drank to me, but put it all up to my score, for 

they told me I was but just come to the college, as they called 

it, and sure I had money in my pocket, though they had none.



I asked one of this crew how long she had been there.  She 

said four months. I asked her how the place looked to her 

when she first came into it.  'Just as it did now to you,' says 

she, dreadful and frightful'; that she thought she was in hell; 

'and I believe so still,' adds she, 'but it is natural to me now, I 

don't disturb myself about it.'  'I suppose,' says I, 'you are in 

no danger of what is to follow?'  'Nay,' says she, 'for you are 

mistaken there, I assure you, for I am under sentence, only I 

pleaded my belly, but I am no more with child than the judge 

that tried me, and I expect to be called down next sessions.'  

This 'calling down' is calling down to their former judgment, 

when a woman has been respited for her belly, but proves not 

to be with child, or if she has been with child, and has been 

brought to bed.  'Well,' says I, 'are you thus easy?'  'Ay,' says 

she, 'I can't help myself; what signifies being sad?  If I am 

hanged, there's an end of me,' says she; and away she turns 

dancing, and sings as she goes the following piece of Newgate 

wit ----



	'If I swing by the string

	I shall hear the bell ring1
	And then there's an end of poor Jenny.'

I mention this because it would be worth the observation of 
any prisoner, who shall hereafter fall into the same misfortune, 
and come to that dreadful place of Newgate, how time, 
necessity, and conversing with the wretches that are there 
familiarizes the place to them; how at last they become 
reconciled to that which at first was the greatest dread upon 
their spirits in the world, and are as impudently cheerful and 

merry in their misery as they were when out of it.



I cannot say, as some do, this devil is not so black as he is 

painted; for indeed no colours can represent the place to the 

life, not any soul conceive aright of it but those who have 

been suffers there.  But how hell should become by degree so 

natural, and not only tolerable, but even agreeable, is a thing  

unintelligible but by those who have experienced it, as I have.



The same night that I was sent to Newgate, I sent the news of 

it to my old governess, who was surprised at it, you may be 

sure, and spent the night almost as ill out of Newgate, as I did 

in it.



The next morning she came to see me; she did what she could 

to comfort me, but she saw that was to no purpose; however, 

as she said, to sink under the weight was but to increase the 

weight; she immediately applied herself to all the proper 

methods to prevent the effects of it, which we feared, and 

first she found out the two fiery jades that had surprised me.  

She tampered with them, offered them money, and, in a word, 

tried all imaginable ways to prevent a prosecution; she offered 

one of the wenches #100 to go away from her mistress, and 

not to appear against me, but she was so resolute, that though 

she was but a servant maid at #3 a year wages or thereabouts, 

she refused it, and would have refused it, as my governess 

said she believed, if she had offered her #500.  Then she 

attacked the other maid; she was not so hard-hearted in 

appearance as the other, and sometimes seemed inclined to 

be merciful; but the first wench kept her up, and changed her 

mind, and would not so much as let my governess talk with 

her, but threatened to have her up for tampering with the 

evidence.



Then she applied to the master, that is to say, the man whose 

goods had been stolen, and particularly to his wife, who, as 

I told you, was inclined at first to have some compassion for 

me; she found the woman the same still, but the man alleged 

he was bound by the justice that committed me, to prosecute, 

and that he should forfeit his recognisance.



My governess offered to find friends that should get his 

recognisances off of the file, as they call it, and that he 

should not suffer; but it was not possible to convince him that 

could be done, or that he could be safe any way in the world 

but by appearing against me; so I was to have three witnesses 

of fact against me, the master and his two maids; that is to say, 

I was as certain to be cast for my life as I was certain that I 

was alive, and I had nothing to do but to think of dying, and 

prepare for it.  I had but a sad foundation to build upon, as I 

said before, for all my repentance appeared to me to be only 

the effect of my fear of death, not a sincere regret for the 

wicked life that I had lived, and which had brought this misery 

upon me, for the offending my Creator, who was now suddenly 

to be my judge.



I lived many days here under the utmost horror of soul; I had 

death, as it were, in view, and thought of nothing night and 

day, but of gibbets and halters, evil spirits and devils; it is not 

to be expressed by words how I was harassed, between the 

dreadful apprehensions of death and the terror of my conscience 

reproaching me with my past horrible life.



The ordinary Of Newgate came to me, and talked a little in 

his way, but all his divinity ran upon confessing my crime, as 

he called it (though he knew not what I was in for), making a 

full discovery, and the like, without which he told me God 

would never forgive me; and he said so little to the purpose, 

that I had no manner of consolation from him; and then to 

observe the poor creature preaching confession and repentance 

to me in the morning, and find him drunk with brandy and 

spirits by noon, this had something in it so shocking, that I 

began to nauseate the man more than his work, and his work 

too by degrees, for the sake of the man; so that I desired him 

to trouble me no more.



I know not how it was, but by the indefatigable application 

of my diligent governess I had no bill preferred against me 

the first sessions, I mean to the grand jury, at Guildhall; so I 

had another month or five weeks before me, and without doubt 

this ought to have been accepted by me, as so much time given 

me for reflection upon what was past, and preparation for what 

was to come; or, in a word, I ought to have esteemed it as a 

space given me for repentance, and have employed it as such, 

but it was not in me.  I was sorry (as before) for being in 

Newgate, but had very few signs of repentance about me.



On the contrary, like the waters in the cavities and hollows 

of mountains, which petrify and turn into stone whatever they 

are suffered to drop on, so the continual conversing with such 

a crew of hell-hounds as I was, had the same common operation 

upon me as upon other people.  I degenerated into stone; I 

turned first stupid and senseless, then brutish and thoughtless, 

and at last raving mad as any of them were; and, in short, I 

became as naturally pleased and easy with the place, as if 

indeed I had been born there.



It is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be 

capable of so much degeneracy, as to make that pleasant and 

agreeable that in itself is the most complete misery.  Here 

was a circumstance that I think it is scarce possible to mention 

a worse:  I was as exquisitely miserable as, speaking of 

common cases, it was possible for any one to be that had life 

and health, and money to help them, as I had.



I had weight of guilt upon me enough to sink any creature 

who had the least power of reflection left, and had any sense 

upon them of the happiness of this life, of the misery of  

another; then I had at first remorse indeed, but no repentance; 

I had now neither remorse nor repentance.  I had a crime 

charged on me, the punishment of which was death by our 

law; the proof so evident, that there was no room for me so 

much as to plead not guilty.  I had the name of an old offender, 

so that I had nothing to expect but death in a few weeks' time, 

neither had I myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain 

strange lethargy of soul possessed me.  I had no trouble, no 

apprehensions, no sorrow about me, the first surprise was 

gone; I was, I may well say, I know not how; my senses, my 

reason, nay, my conscience, were all asleep; my course of life 

for forty years had been a horrid complication of wickedness, 

whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft; and, in a word, 

everything but murder and treason had been my practice from 

the age of eighteen, or thereabouts, to three-score; and now I 

was engulfed in the misery of punishment, and had an infamous 

death just at the door, and yet I had no sense of my condition, 

no thought of heaven or hell at least, that went any farther than 

a bare flying touch, like the stitch or pain that gives a hint and 

goes off.  I neither had a heart to ask God's mercy, nor indeed 

to think of it.  And in this, I think, I have given a brief 

description of the completest misery on earth.



All my terrifying thoughts were past, the horrors of the place 

were become familiar, and I felt no more uneasiness at the 

noise and clamours of the prison, than they did who made 

that noise; in a word, I was become a mere Newgate-bird, as 

wicked and as outrageous as any of them; nay, I scarce 

retained the habit and custom of good breeding and manners, 

which all along till now ran through my conversation; so 

thorough a degeneracy had possessed me, that I was no more 

the same thing that I had been, than if I had never been 

otherwise than what I was now.



In the middle of this hardened part of my life I had another 

sudden surprise, which called me back a little to that thing 

called sorrow, which indeed I began to be past the sense of 

before.  They told me one night that there was brought into 

the prison late the night before three highwaymen, who had 

committed robbery somewhere on the road to Windsor, 

Hounslow Heath, I think it was, and were pursued to Uxbridge 

by the country, and were taken there after a gallant resistance, 

in which I know not how many of the country people were 

wounded, and some killed.



It is not to be wondered that we prisoners were all desirous 

enough to see these brave, topping gentlemen, that were 

talked up to be such as their fellows had not been known, and 

especially because it was said they would in the morning be 

removed into the press-yard, having given money to the head 

master of the prison, to be allowed the liberty of that better 

part of the prison.  So we that were women placed ourselves 

in the way, that we would be sure to see them; but nothing 

could express the amazement and surprise I was in, when the 

very first man that came out I knew to be my Lancashire husband, 

the same who lived so well at Dunstable, and the same who I 

afterwards saw at Brickhill, when I was married to my last 

husband, as has been related.



I was struck dumb at the sight, and knew neither what to say 

nor what to do; he did not know me, and that was all the 

present relief I had.  I quitted my company, and retired as 

much as that dreadful place suffers anybody to retire, and I 

cried vehemently for a great while.  'Dreadful creature that I 

am,' said I, 'how may poor people have I made miserable?  

How many desperate wretches have I sent to the devil?'  He 

had told me at Chester he was ruined by that match, and that 

his fortunes were made desperate on my account; for that 

thinking I had been a fortune, he was run into debt more than 

he was able to pay, and that he knew not what course to take; 

that he would go into the army and carry a musket, or buy a 

horse and take a tour, as he called it; and though I never told 

him that I was a fortune, and so did not actually deceive him 

myself, yet I did encourage the having it thought that I was so, 

and by that means I was the occasion originally of his mischief.



The surprise of the thing only struck deeper into my thoughts, 

any gave me stronger reflections than all that had befallen me 

before.  I grieved day and night for him, and the more for that 

they told me he was the captain of the gang, and that he had 

committed so many robberies, that Hind, or Whitney, or the 

Golden Farmer were fools to him; that he would surely be 

hanged if there were no more men left in the country he was 

born in; and that there would abundance of people come in 

against him.



I was overwhelmed with grief for him; my own case gave me 

no disturbance compared to this, and I loaded myself with 

reproaches on his account.  I bewailed his misfortunes, and 

the ruin he was now come to, at such a rate, that I relished 

nothing now as I did before, and the first reflections I made 

upon the horrid, detestable life I had lived began to return upon 

me, and as these things returned, my abhorrence of the place 

I was in, and of the way of living in it, returned also; in a word, 

I was perfectly changed, and become another body.



While I was under these influences of sorrow for him, came 

notice to me that the next sessions approaching there would 

be a bill preferred to the grand jury against me, and that I 

should be certainly tried for my life at the Old Bailey.  My 

temper was touched before, the hardened, wretched boldness 

of spirit which I had acquired abated, and conscious in the 

prison, guilt began to flow in upon my mind.  In short, I began 

to think, and to think is one real advance from hell to heaven.  

All that hellish, hardened state and temper of soul, which I 

have said so much of before, is but a deprivation of thought; 

he that is restored to his power of thinking, is restored to himself.



As soon as I began, I say, to think, the first think that occurred 

to me broke out thus:  'Lord! what will become of me?  I shall 

certainly die!  I shall be cast, to be sure, and there is nothing 

beyond that but death!  I have no friends; what shall I do?  I 

shall be certainly cast!  Lord, have mercy upon me!  What 

will become of me?'  This was a sad thought, you will say, to 

be the first, after so long a time, that had started into my soul 

of that kind, and yet even this was nothing but fright at what 

was to come; there was not a word of sincere repentance in it 

all.  However, I was indeed dreadfully dejected, and disconsolate 

to the last degree; and as I had no friend in the world to 

communicate my distressed thoughts to, it lay so heavy upon 

me, that it threw me into fits and swoonings several times a 

day.  I sent for my old governess, and she, give her her due, 

acted the part of a true friend.  She left no stone unturned to 

prevent the grand jury finding the bill.  She sought out one or 

two of the jurymen, talked with them, and endeavoured to 

possess them with favourable dispositions, on account that 

nothing was taken away, and no house broken, etc.; but all 

would not do, they were over-ruled by the rest; the two wenches 

swore home to the fact, and the jury found the bill against me 

for robbery and house-breaking, that is, for felony and burglary.



I sunk down when they brought me news of it, and after I came 

to myself again, I thought I should have died with the weight 

of it.  My governess acted a true mother to me; she pitied me, 

she cried with me, and for me, but she could not help me; 

and to add to the terror of it, 'twas the discourse all over the 

house that I should die for it.  I could hear them talk it among 

themselves very often, and see them shake their heads and say 

they were sorry for it, and the like, as is usual in the place.  

But still nobody came to tell me their thoughts, till at last one 

of the keepers came to me privately, and said with a sigh, 

'Well, Mrs. Flanders, you will be tried on Friday' (this was 

but a Wednesday); 'what do you intend to do?'  I turned as 

white as a clout, and said, 'God knows what I shall do; for my 

part, I know not what to do.'  'Why,' says he, 'I won't flatter 

you, I would have you prepare for death, for I doubt you will 

be cast; and as they say you are an old offender, I doubt you 

will find but little mercy.  They say,' added he, 'your case is 

very plain, and that the witnesses swear so home against you, 

there will be no standing it.'



This was a stab into the very vitals of one under such a burthen 

as I was oppressed with before, and I could not speak to him a 

word, good or bad, for a great while; but at last I burst out into 

tears, and said to him, 'Lord! Mr.----, what must I do?'  'Do!' 

says he, 'send for the ordinary; send for a minister and talk 

with him; for, indeed, Mrs. Flanders, unless you have very 

good friends, you are no woman for this world.'



This was plain dealing indeed, but it was very harsh to me, 

at least I thought it so.  He left me in the greatest confusion 

imaginable, and all that night I lay awake.  And now I began 

to say my prayers, which I had scarce done before since my 

last husband's death, or from a little while after.  And truly I 

may well call it saying my prayers, for I was in such a confusion, 

and had such horror upon my mind, that though I cried, and 

repeated several times the ordinary expression of 'Lord, have 

mercy upon me!' I never brought myself to any sense of my 

being a miserable sinner, as indeed I was, and of confessing 

my sins to God, and begging pardon for the sake of Jesus 

Christ.  I was overwhelmed with the sense of my condition, 

being tried for my life, and being sure to be condemned, and 

then I was as sure to be executed, and on this account I cried 

out all night, 'Lord, what will become of me?  Lord! what 

shall I do?  Lord! I shall be hanged!  Lord, have mercy upon 

me!' and the like.



My poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned as 

I, and a great deal more truly penitent, though she had no 

prospect of being brought to trial and sentence.  Not but that 

she deserved it as much as I, and so she said herself; but she 

had not done anything herself for many years, other than 

receiving what I and others stole, and encouraging us to steal 

it.  But she cried, and took on like a distracted body, wringing 

her hands, and crying out that she was undone, that she 

believed there was a curse from heaven upon her, that she 

should be damned, that she had been the destruction of all her 

friends, that she had brought such a one, and such a one, and 

such a one to the gallows; and there she reckoned up ten or 

eleven people, some of which I have given account of, that 

came to untimely ends; and that now she was the occasion 

of my ruin, for she had persuaded me to go on, when I would 

have left off.  I interrupted her there.  'No, mother, no,' said I, 

'don't speak of that, for you would have had me left off when 

I got the mercer's money again, and when I came home from 

Harwich, and I would not hearken to you; therefore you have 

not been to blame; it is I only have ruined myself, I have 

brought myself to this misery'; and thus we spent many hours 

together.



Well, there was no remedy; the prosecution went on, and on 

the Thursday I was carried down to the sessions-house, where 

I was arraigned, as they called it, and the next day I was 

appointed to be tried.  At the arraignment I pleaded 'Not guilty,' 

and well I might, for I was indicted for felony and burglary; 

that is, for feloniously stealing two pieces of brocaded silk, 

value #46, the goods of Anthony Johnson, and for breaking 

open his doors; whereas I knew very well they could not 

pretend to prove I had broken up the doors, or so much as 

lifted up a latch.



On the Friday I was brought to my trial.  I had exhausted my 

spirits with crying for two or three days before, so that I slept 

better the Thursday night than I expected, and had more courage 

for my trial than indeed I thought possible for me to have.



When the trial began, the indictment was read, I would have 

spoke, but they told me the witnesses must be heard first, and 

then I should have time to be heard.  The witnesses were the 

two wenches, a couple of hard-mouthed jades indeed, for 

though the thing was truth in the main, yet they aggravated it 

to the utmost extremity, and swore I had the goods wholly in 

my possession, that I had hid them among my clothes, that I 

was going off with them, that I had one foot over the threshold 

when they discovered themselves, and then I put t' other over, 

so that I was quite out of the house in the street with the goods 

before they took hold of me, and then they seized me, and 

brought me back again, and they took the goods upon me.  The 

fact in general was all true, but I believe, and insisted upon it, 

that they stopped me before I had set my foot clear of the 

threshold of the house.  But that did not argue much, for certain 

it was that I had taken the goods, and I was bringing them away, 

if I had not been taken.



But I pleaded that I had stole nothing, they had lost nothing,

that the door was open, and I went in, seeing the goods lie

there, and with design to buy.  If, seeing nobody in the house, I 

had taken any of them up in my hand it could not be concluded 

that I intended to steal them, for that I never carried them 

farther than the door to look on them with the better light.



The Court would not allow that by any means, and made a 

kind of a jest of my intending to buy the goods, that being no 

shop for the selling of anything, and as to carrying them to the 

door to look at them, the maids made their impudent mocks 

upon that, and spent their wit upon it very much; told the 

Court I had looked at them sufficiently, and approved them 

very well, for I had packed them up under my clothes, and 

was a-going with them.



In short, I was found guilty of felony, but acquitted of the 

burglary, which was but small comfort to me, the first bringing 

me to a sentence of death, and the last would have done no 

more.  The next day I was carried down to receive the dreadful 

sentence, and when they came to ask me what I had to say 

why sentence should not pass, I stood mute a while, but 

somebody that stood behind me prompted me aloud to speak 

to the judges, for that they could represent things favourably 

for me.  This encouraged me to speak, and I told them I had 

nothing to say to stop the sentence, but that I had much to say 

to bespeak the mercy of the Court; that I hoped they would 

allow something in such a case for the circumstances of it; 

that I had broken no doors, had carried nothing off; that 

nobody had lost anything; that the person whose goods they 

were was pleased to say he desired mercy might be shown 

(which indeed he very honestly did); that, at the worst, it was 

the first offence, and that I had never been before any court 

of justice before; and, in a word, I spoke with more courage 

that I thought I could have done, and in such a moving tone, 

and though with tears, yet not so many tears as to obstruct my 

speech, that I could see it moved others to tears that heard me.



The judges sat grave and mute, gave me an easy hearing, and 

time to say all that I would, but, saying neither Yes nor No to 

it, pronounced the sentence of death upon me, a sentence that 

was to me like death itself, which, after it was read, confounded 

me.  I had no more spirit left in me, I had no tongue to speak, 

or eyes to look up either to God or man.



My poor governess was utterly disconsolate, and she that was 

my comforter before, wanted comfort now herself; and sometimes 

mourning, sometimes raging, was as much out of herself, as to 

all outward appearance, as any mad woman in Bedlam.  Nor 

was she only disconsolate as to me, but she was struck with 

horror at the sense of her own wicked life, and began to look 

back upon it with a taste quite different from mine, for she 

was penitent to the highest degree for her sins, as well as 

sorrowful for the misfortune.  She sent for a minister, too, a 

serious, pious, good man, and applied herself with such 

earnestness, by his assistance, to the work of a sincere repentance, 

that I believe, and so did the minister too, that she was a true 

penitent; and, which is still more, she was not only so for the 

occasion, and at that juncture, but she continued so, as I was 

informed, to the day of her death.



It is rather to be thought of than expressed what was now my 

condition.  I had nothing before me but present death; and as 

I had no friends to assist me, or to stir for me, I expected 

nothing but to find my name in the dead warrant, which was 

to come down for the execution, the Friday afterwards, of five 

more and myself.



In the meantime my poor distressed governess sent me a 

minister, who at her request first, and at my own afterwards, 

came to visit me.  He exhorted me seriously to repent of all 

my sins, and to dally no longer with my soul; not flattering 

myself with hopes of life, which, he said, he was informed 

there was no room to expect, but unfeignedly to look up to 

God with my whole soul, and to cry for pardon in the name 

of Jesus Christ.  He backed his discourses with proper quotations 

of Scripture, encouraging the greatest sinner to repent, and turn 

from their evil way, and when he had done, he kneeled down 

and prayed with me.



It was now that, for the first time, I felt any real signs of 

repentance.  I now began to look back upon my past life with 

abhorrence, and having a kind of view into the other side of 

time, and things of life, as I believe they do with everybody 

at such a time, began to look with a different aspect, and quite 

another shape, than they did before.  The greatest and best 

things, the views of felicity, the joy, the griefs of life, were 

quite other things; and I had nothing in my thoughts but what 

was so infinitely superior to what I had known in life, that it 

appeared to me to be the greatest stupidity in nature to lay 

any weight upon anything, though the most valuable in this 

world.



The word eternity represented itself with all its incomprehensible 

additions, and I had such extended notions of it, that I know 

not how to express them.  Among the rest, how vile, how gross, 

how absurd did every pleasant thing look!--I mean, that we 

had counted pleasant before--especially when I reflected that 

these sordid trifles were the things for which we forfeited 

eternal felicity.



With these reflections came, of mere course, severe reproaches 

of my own mind for my wretched behaviour in my past life; 

that I had forfeited all hope of any happiness in the eternity 

that I was just going to enter into, and on the contrary was 

entitled to all that was miserable, or had been conceived of 

misery; and all this with the frightful addition of its being 

also eternal.



I am not capable of reading lectures of instruction to anybody, 

but I relate this in the very manner in which things then 

appeared to me, as far as I am able, but infinitely short of the 

lively impressions which they made on my soul at that time; 

indeed, those impressions are not to be explained by words, 

or if they are, I am not mistress of words enough to express 

them.  It must be the work of every sober reader to make just 

reflections on them, as their own circumstances may direct; 

and, without question, this is what every one at some time or 

other may feel something of; I mean, a clearer sight into things 

to come than they had here, and a dark view of their own 

concern in them.



But I go back to my own case.  The minister pressed me to 

tell him, as far as I though convenient, in what state I found 

myself as to the sight I had of things beyond life.  He told me 

he did not come as ordinary of the place, whose business it 

is to extort confessions from prisoners, for private ends, or 

for the further detecting of other offenders; that his business 

was to move me to such freedom of discourse as might serve 

to disburthen my own mind, and furnish him to administer 

comfort to me as far as was in his power; and assured me, 

that whatever I said to him should remain with him, and be 

as much a secret as if it was known only to God and myself; 

and that he desired to know nothing of me, but as above to 

qualify him to apply proper advice and assistance to me, and 

to pray to God for me.



This honest, friendly way of treating me unlocked all the 

sluices of my passions.  He broke into my very soul by it; and 

I unravelled all the wickedness of my life to him. In a word, I 

gave him an abridgment of this whole history; I gave him a 

picture of my conduct for fifty years in miniature.



I hid nothing from him, and he in return exhorted me to sincere 

repentance, explained to me what he meant by repentance, and 

then drew out such a scheme of infinite mercy, proclaimed 

from heaven to sinners of the greatest magnitude, that he left 

me nothing to say, that looked like despair, or doubting of 

being accepted; and in this condition he left me the first night.



He visited me again the next morning, and went on with his 

method of explaining the terms of divine mercy, which 

according to him consisted of nothing more, or more difficult, 

than that of being sincerely desirous of it, and willing to accept 

it; only a sincere regret for, and hatred of, those things I had 

done, which rendered me so just an object of divine vengeance.  

I am not able to repeat the excellent discourses of this 

extraordinary man; 'tis all that I am able to do, to say that he 

revived my heart, and brought me into such a condition that 

I never knew anything of in my life before.  I was covered 

with shame and tears for things past, and yet had at the same 

time a secret surprising joy at the prospect of being a true 

penitent, and obtaining the comfort of a penitent--I mean, the 

hope of being forgiven; and so swift did thoughts circulate, 

and so high did the impressions they had made upon me run, 

that I thought I could freely have gone out that minute to 

execution, without any uneasiness at all, casting my soul 

entirely into the arms of infinite mercy as a penitent.



The good gentleman was so moved also in my behalf with a 

view of the influence which he saw these things had on me, 

that he blessed God he had come to visit me, and resolved not 

to leave me till the last moment; that is, not to leave visiting me.



It was no less than twelve days after our receiving sentence 

before any were ordered for execution, and then upon a 

Wednesday the dead warrant, as they call it, came down, and 

I found my name was among them.  A terrible blow this was 

to my new resolutions; indeed my heart sank within me, and 

I swooned away twice, one after another, but spoke not a word.  

The good minister was sorely afflicted for me, and did what he 

could to comfort me with the same arguments, and the same 

moving eloquence that he did before, and left me not that 

evening so long as the prisonkeepers would suffer him to stay 

in the prison, unless he would be locked up with me all night, 

which he was not willing to be.



I wondered much that I did not see him all the next day, it 

being the day before the time appointed for execution; and I 

was greatly discouraged, and dejected in my mind, and indeed 

almost sank for want of the comfort which he had so often, 

and with such success, yielded me on his former visits.  I 

waited with great impatience, and under the greatest oppressions 

of spirits imaginable, till about four o'clock he came to my 

apartment; for I had obtained the favour, by the help of money, 

nothing being to be done in that place without it, not to be 

kept in the condemned hole, as they call it, among the rest of 

the prisoners who were to die, but to have a little dirty 

chamber to myself.



My heart leaped within me for joy when I heard his voice at 

the door, even before I saw him; but let any one judge what 

kind of motion I found in my soul, when after having made a 

short excuse for his not coming, he showed me that his time 

had been employed on my account; that he had obtained a 

favourable report from the Recorder to the Secretary of State 

in my particular case, and, in short, that he had brought me 

a reprieve.



He used all the caution that he was able in letting me know 

a thing which it would have been a double cruelty to have 

concealed; and yet it was too much for me; for as grief had 

overset me before, so did joy overset me now, and I fell into

a much more dangerous swooning than I did at first, and it 

was not without a great difficulty that I was recovered at all.



The good man having made a very Christian exhortation to 

me, not to let the joy of my reprieve put the remembrance of 

my past sorrow out of my mind, and having told me that he 

must leave me, to go and enter the reprieve in the books, and 

show it to the sheriffs, stood up just before his going away, 

and in a very earnest manner prayed to God for me, that my 

repentance might be made unfeigned and sincere; and that 

my coming back, as it were, into life again, might not be a 

returning to the follies of life which I had made such solemn 

resolutions to forsake, and to repent of them.  I joined heartily 

in the petition, and must needs say I had deeper impressions 

upon my mind all that night, of the mercy of God in sparing 

my life, and a greater detestation of my past sins, from a sense 

of the goodness which I had tasted in this case, than I had in 

all my sorrow before.



This may be thought inconsistent in itself, and wide from the 

business of this book; particularly, I reflect that many of those 

who may be pleased and diverted with the relation of the wild 

and wicked part of my story may not relish this, which is 

really the best part of my life, the most advantageous to myself, 

and the most instructive to others.  Such, however, will, I hope, 

allow me the liberty to make my story complete.  It would be 

a severe satire on such to say they do not relish the repentance 

as much as they do the crime; and that they had rather the 

history were a complete tragedy, as it was very likely to have been.



But I go on with my relation.  The next morning there was a 

sad scene indeed in the prison.  The first thing I was saluted 

with in the morning was the tolling of the great bell at St. 

Sepulchre's, as they call it, which ushered in the day.  As soon 

as it began to toll, a dismal groaning and crying was heard 

from the condemned hole, where there lay six poor souls who 

were to be executed that day, some from one crime, some for 

another, and two of them for murder.



This was followed by a confused clamour in the house, among 

the several sorts of prisoners, expressing their awkward sorrows 

for the poor creatures that were to die, but in a manner extremely 

differing one from another.  Some cried for them; some huzzaed, 

and wished them a good journey; some damned and cursed those 

that had brought them to it--that is, meaning the evidence, or 

prosecutors--many pitying them, and some few, but very few, 

praying for them.



There was hardly room for so much composure of mind as 

was required for me to bless the merciful Providence that had, 

as it were, snatched me out of the jaws of this destruction.  I 

remained, as it were, dumb and silent, overcome with the 

sense of it, and not able to express what I had in my heart; for 

the passions on such occasions as these are certainly so agitated 

as not to be able presently to regulate their own motions.



All the while the poor condemned creatures were preparing 

to their death, and the ordinary, as they call him, was busy 

with them, disposing them to submit to their sentence--I say, 

all this while I was seized with a fit of trembling, as much as 

I could have been if I had been in the same condition, as to be 

sure the day before I expected to be; I was so violently agitated 

by this surprising fit, that I shook as if it had been in the cold 

fit of an ague, so that I could not speak or look but like one 

distracted.  As soon as they were all put into carts and gone, 

which, however, I had not courage enough to see--I say, as 

soon as they were gone, I fell into a fit of crying involuntarily, 

and without design, but as a mere distemper, and yet so violent, 

and it held me so long, that I knew not what course to take, 

nor could I stop, or put a check to it, no, not with all the 

strength and courage I had.



This fit of crying held me near two hours, and, as I believe, 

held me till they were all out of the world, and then a most 

humble, penitent, serious kind of joy succeeded; a real transport 

it was, or passion of joy and thankfulness, but still unable to 

give vent to it by words, and in this I continued most part of 

the day.



In the evening the good minister visited me again, and then 

fell to his usual good discourses.  He congratulated my having 

a space yet allowed me for repentance, whereas the state of 

those six poor creatures was determined, and they were now 

past the offers of salvation; he earnestly pressed me to retain 

the same sentiments of the things of life that I had when I had 

a view of eternity; and at the end of all told me I should not 

conclude that all was over, that a reprieve was not a pardon, 

that he could not yet answer for the effects of it; however, I 

had this mercy, that I had more time given me, and that it was 

my business to improve that time.



This discourse, though very seasonable, left a kind of sadness 

on my  heart, as if I might expect the affair would have a 

tragical issue still, which, however, he had no certainty of; 

and I did not indeed, at that time, question him about it, he 

having said that he would do his utmost to bring it to a good 

end, and that he hoped he might, but he would not have me 

be secure; and the consequence proved that he had reason for 

what he said.



It was about a fortnight after this that I had some just apprehensions 

that I should be included in the next dead warrant at the ensuing 

sessions; and it was not without great difficulty, and at last a 

humble petition for transportation, that I avoided it, so ill was 

I beholding to fame, and so prevailing was the fatal report of 

being an old offender; though in that they did not do me strict 

justice, for I was not in the sense of the law an old offender, 

whatever I was in the eye of the judge, for I had never been 

before them in a judicial way before; so the judges could not 

charge me with being an old offender, but the Recorder was 

pleased to represent my case as he thought fit.



I had now a certainty of life indeed, but with the hard conditions 

of being ordered for transportation, which indeed was hard 

condition in itself, but not when comparatively considered; 

and therefore I shall make no comments upon the sentence, 

nor upon the choice I was put to.  We shall all choose anything 

rather than death, especially when 'tis attended with an 

uncomfortable prospect beyond it, which was my case.



The good minister, whose interest, though a stranger to me, 

had obtained me the reprieve, mourned sincerely for this part.  

He was in hopes, he said, that I should have ended my days 

under the influence of good instruction, that I should not have 

been turned loose again among such a wretched crew as they 

generally are, who are thus sent abroad, where, as he said, I 

must have more than ordinary secret assistance from the grace 

of God, if I did not turn as wicked again as ever.



I have not for a good while mentioned my governess, who 

had during most, if not all, of this part been dangerously sick, 

and being in as near a view of death by her disease as I was 

by my sentence, was a great penitent--I say, I have not mentioned 

her, nor indeed did I see her in all this time; but being now 

recovering, and just able to come abroad, she came to see me.



I told her my condition, and what a different flux and reflux 

of tears and hopes I had been agitated with; I told her what I 

had escaped, and upon what terms; and she was present when 

the minister expressed his fears of my relapsing into wickedness 

upon my falling into the wretched companies that are generally 

transported.  Indeed I had a melancholy reflection upon it in 

my own mind, for I knew what a dreadful gang was always 

sent away together, and I said to my governess that the good 

minister's fears were not without cause.  'Well, well,' says  she, 

'but I hope you will not be tempted with such a horrid example 

as that.'  And as soon as the minister was gone, she told me she 

would not have me discouraged, for perhaps ways and means 

might be found out to dispose of me in a particular way, by 

myself, of which she would talk further to me afterward.



I looked earnestly at her, and I thought she looked more cheerful 

than she usually had done, and I entertained immediately a 

thousand notions of being delivered, but could not for my life 

image the methods, or think of one that was in the least feasible; 

but I was too much concerned in it to let her go from me without 

explaining herself, which, though she was very loth to do, yet 

my importunity prevailed, and, while I was still pressing, she 

answered me in a few words, thus:  'Why, you have money, 

have you not?  Did you ever know one in your life that was 

transported and had a hundred pounds in his pocket, I'll warrant 

you, child?'says she.



I understood her presently, but told her I would leave all that 

to her, but I saw no room to hope for anything but a strict 

execution of the order, and as it was a severity that was 

esteemed a mercy, there was no doubt but it would be strictly 

observed.  She said no more but this:  'We will try what can 

be done,' and so we parted for that night.



I lay in the prison near fifteen weeks after this order for 

transportation was signed.  What the reason of it was, I know 

not, but at the end of this time I was put on board of a ship in 

the Thames, and with me a gang of thirteen as hardened vile 

creatures as ever Newgate produced in my time; and it would 

really well take up a history longer than mine to describe the 

degrees of impudence and audacious villainy that those thirteen 

were arrived to, and the manner of their behaviour in the 

voyage; of which I have a very diverting account by me, which 

the captain of the ship who carried them over gave me the 

minutes of, and which he caused his mate to write down at large.



It may perhaps be thought trifling to enter here into a relation 

of all the little incidents which attended me in this interval of 

my circumstances; I mean, between the final order of my 

transporation and the time of my going on board the ship; and 

I am too near the end of my story to allow room for it; but 

something relating to me any my Lancashire husband I must 

not omit.



He had, as I have observed already, been carried from the 

master's side of the ordinary prison into the press-yard, with 

three of his comrades, for they found another to add to them 

after some time; here, for what reason I knew not, they were 

kept in custody without being brought to trial almost three 

months.  It seems they found means to bribe or buy off some 

of those who were expected to come in against them, and they 

wanted evidence for some time to convict them.  After some 

puzzle on this account, at first they made a shift to get proof 

enough against two of them to carry them off; but the other 

two, of which my Lancashire husband was one, lay still in 

suspense.  They had, I think, one positive evidence against 

each of them, but the law strictly obliging them to have two 

witnesses, they could make nothing of it.  Yet it seems they 

were resolved not to part with the men neither, not doubting 

but a further evidence would at last come in; and in order to 

this, I think publication was made, that such prisoners being 

taken, any one that had been robbed by them might come to 

the prison and see them.



I took this opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, pretending that 

I had been robbed in the Dunstable coach, and that I would go 

to see the two highwaymen.  But when I came into the press-yard, 

I so disguised myself, and muffled my face up so, that he could 

see little of me, and consequently knew nothing of who I was; 

and when I came back, I said publicly that I knew them very well.



Immediately it was rumoured all over the prison that Moll 

Flanders would turn evidence against one of the highwaymen, 

and that I was to come off by it from the sentence of transportation.



They heard of it, and immediately my husband desired to see 

this Mrs. Flanders that knew him so well, and was to be an 

evidence against him; and accordingly I had leave given to go 

to him.  I dressed myself up as well as the best clothes that I 

suffered myself ever to appear in there would allow me, and 

went to the press-yard, but had for some time a hood over my 

face.  He said little to me at first, but asked me if I knew him.  

I told him, Yes, very well; but as I concealed my face, so I 

counterfeited my voice, that he had not the least guess at who 

I was.  He asked me where I had seen him.  I told him between 

Dunstable and Brickhill; but turning to the keeper that stood 

by, I asked if I might not be admitted to talk with him alone.  

He said Yes, yes, as much as I pleased, and so very civilly 

withdrew.



As soon as he was gone, I had shut the door, I threw off my 

hood, and bursting out into tears, 'My dear,' says I, 'do you not 

know me?'  He turned pale, and stood speechless, like one 

thunderstruck, and, not able to conquer the surprise, said no 

more but this, 'Let me sit down'; and sitting down by a table, 

he laid his elbow upon the table, and leaning his head on his 

hand, fixed his eyes on the ground as one stupid.  I cried so 

vehemently, on the other hand, that it was a good while ere I 

could speak any more; but after I had given some vent to my 

passion by tears, I repeated the same words, 'My dear, do you 

not know me?'  At which he answered, Yes, and said no more 

a good while.



After some time continuing in the surprise, as above, he cast 

up his eyes towards me and said, 'How could you be so cruel?'  

I did not readily understand what he meant; and I answered, 

'How can you call me cruel?  What have I been cruel to you in?'  

'To come to me,' says he, 'in such a place as this, is it not to 

insult me?  I have not robbed you, at least not on the highway.'



I perceived by this that he knew nothing of the miserable 

circumstances I was in, and thought that, having got some 

intelligence of his being there, I had come to upbraid him 

with his leaving me.  But I had too much to say to him to be 

affronted, and told him in few words, that I was far from 

coming to insult him, but at best I came to condole mutually; 

that he would be easily satisfied that I had no such view, 

when I should tell him that my condition was worse than his, 

and that many ways.  He looked a little concerned at the 

general expression of my condition being worse than his, but, 

with a kind smile, looked a little wildly, and said, 'How can 

that be?  When you see me fettered, and in Newgate, and two 

of my companions executed already, can you can your condition 

is worse than mine?'



'Come, my dear,' says I, 'we have along piece of work to do, 

if I should be to related, or you to hear, my unfortunate history; 

but if you are disposed to hear it, you will soon conclude with 

me that my condition is worse than yours.'  'How is that possible,' 

says he again, 'when I expect to be cast for my life the very 

next sessions?'  'Yes, says I, ''tis very possible, when I shall 

tell you that I have been cast for my life three sessions ago, 

and am under sentence of death; is not my case worse than yours?' 



Then indeed, he stood silent again, like one struck dumb, and 

after a while he starts up.  'Unhappy couple!' says he.  'How 

can this be possible?'  I took him by the hand.  'Come, my 

dear,' said I, 'sit down, and let us compare our sorrows.  I am 

a prisoner in this very house, and in much worse circumstances 

than you, and you will be satisfied I do not come to insult you, 

when I tell you the particulars.'  Any with this we sat down 

together, and I told him so much of my story as I thought was 

convenient, bringing it at last to my being reduced to great 

poverty, and representing myself as fallen into some company 

that led me to relieve my distresses by way that I had been 

utterly unacquainted with, and that they making an attempt at 

a tradesman's house, I was seized upon for having been but 

just at the door, the maid-servant pulling me in; that I neither 

had broke any lock nor taken anything away, and that 

notwithstanding that, I was brought in guilty and sentenced 

to die; but that the judges, having been made sensible of the 

hardship of my circumstances, had obtained leave to remit the 

sentence upon my consenting to be transported.



I told him I fared the worse for being taken in the prison for 

one Moll Flanders, who was a famous successful thief, that 

all of them had heard of, but none of them had ever seen; but 

that, as he knew well, was none of my name.  But I placed all 

to the account of my ill fortune, and that under this name I 

was dealt with as an old offender, though this was the first 

thing they had ever known of me.  I gave him a long particular 

of things that had befallen me since I saw him, but I told him 

if I had seen him since he might thing I had, and then gave 

him an account how I had seen him at Brickhill; how furiously 

he was pursued, and how, by giving an account that I knew 

him, and that he was a very honest gentleman, one Mr.----, 

the hue-and-cry was stopped, and the high constable went 

back again.



He listened most attentively to all my story, and smiled at 

most of the particulars, being all of them petty matters, and 

infinitely below what he had been at the head of; but when I 

came to the story of Brickhill, he was surprised.  'And was it 

you, my dear,' said he, 'that gave the check to the mob that 

was at our heels there, at Brickhill?'  'Yes,' said I, 'it was I 

indeed.'  And then I told him the particulars which I had 

observed him there.  'Why, then,' said he, 'it was you that 

saved my life at that time, and I am glad I owe my life to you, 

for I will pay the debt to you now, and I'll deliver you from 

the present condition you are in, or I will die in the attempt.'



I told him, by no means; it was a risk too great, not worth his 

running the hazard of, and for a life not worth his saving.  

'Twas no matter for that, he said, it was a life worth all the 

world to him; a life that had given him a new life; 'for,' says 

he, 'I was never in real danger of being taken, but that time, 

till the last minute when I was taken.'  Indeed, he told me his 

danger then lay in his believing he had not been pursued that 

way; for they had gone from Hockey quite another way, and 

had come over the enclosed country into Brickhill, not by the 

road, and were sure they had not been seen by anybody.



Here he gave me a long history of his life, which indeed would 

make a very strange history, and be infinitely diverting.  He 

told me he took to the road about twelve years before he 

married me; that the woman which called him brother was not 

really his sister, or any kin to him, but one that belonged to 

their gang, and who, keeping correspondence with him, lived 

always in town, having good store of acquaintance; that she 

gave them a perfect intelligence of persons going out of town, 

and that they had made several good booties by her correspondence; 

that she thought she had fixed a fortune for him when she brought 

me to him, but happened to be disappointed, which he really 

could not blame her for; that if it had been his good luck that 

I had had the estate, which she was informed I had, he had 

resolved to leave off the road and live a retired, sober live but 

never to appear in public till some general pardon had been 

passed, or till he could, for money, have got his name into 

some particular pardon, that so he might have been perfectly 

easy; but that, as it had proved otherwise, he was obliged to 

put off his equipage and take up the old trade again.



He gave me a long account of some of his adventures, and 

particularly one when he robbed the West Chester coaches 

near Lichfield, when he got a very great booty; and after that, 

how he robbed five graziers, in the west, going to Burford Fair 

in Wiltshire to buy sheep.  He told me he got so much money 

on those two occasions, that if he had known where to have 

found me, he would certainly have embraced my proposal of 

going with me to Virginia, or to have settled in a plantation 

on some other parts of the English colonies in America.



He told me he wrote two or three letters to me, directed 

according to my order, but heard nothing from me.  This I 

indeed knew to be true, but the letters coming to my hand in 

the time of my latter husband, I could do nothing in it, and 

therefore chose to give no answer, that so he might rather 

believe they had miscarried.



Being thus disappointed, he said, he carried on the old trade 

ever since, though when he had gotten so much money, he 

said, he did not run such desperate risks as he did before.  

Then he gave me some account of several hard and desperate 

encounters which he had with gentlemen on the road, who 

parted too hardly with their money, and showed me some 

wounds he had received; and he had one or two very terrible 

wounds indeed, as particularly one by a pistol bullet, which 

broke his arm, and another with a sword, which ran him quite 

through the body, but that missing his vitals, he was cured 

again; one of his comrades having kept with him so faithfully, 

and so friendly, as that he assisted him in riding near eighty 

miles before his arm was set, and then got a surgeon in a 

considerable city, remote from that place where it was done, 

pretending they were gentlemen travelling towards Carlisle 

and that they had been attacked on the road by highwaymen, 

and that one of them had shot him into the arm and broke 

the bone.



This, he said, his friend managed so well, that they were not 

suspected at all, but lay still till he was perfectly cured.  He 

gave me so many distinct accounts of his adventures, that it 

is with great reluctance that I decline the relating them; but I 

consider that this is my own story, not his.



I then inquired into the circumstances of his present case at 

that time, and what it was he expected when he came to be 

tried.  He told me that they had no evidence against him, or 

but very little; for that of three robberies, which they were all 

charged with, it was his good fortune that he was but in one 

of them, and that there was but one witness to be had for that 

fact, which was not sufficient, but that it was expected some 

others would come in against him; that he thought indeed, 

when he first saw me, that I had been one that came of that 

errand; but that if somebody came in against him, he hoped 

he should be cleared; that he had had some intimation, that if 

he would submit to transport himself, he might be admitted 

to it without a trial, but that he could not think of it with any 

temper, and thought he could much easier submit to be hanged.



I blamed him for that, and told him I blamed him on two 

accounts; first, because if he was transported, there might be 

a hundred ways for him that was a gentleman, and a bold 

enterprising man, to find his way back again, and perhaps 

some ways and means to come back before he went.  He 

smiled at that part, and said he should like the last the best of 

the two, for he had a kind of horror upon his mind at his being 

sent over to the plantations, as Romans sent condemned 

slaves to work in the mines; that he thought the passage into 

another state, let it be what it would, much more tolerable at 

the gallows, and that this was the general notion of all the 

gentlemen who were driven by the exigence of their fortunes 

to take the road; that at the place of execution there was at 

least an end of all the miseries of the present state, and as for 

what was to follow, a man was, in his opinion, as likely to 

repent sincerely in the last fortnight of his life, under the 

pressures and agonies of a jail and the condemned hole, as he 

would ever be in the woods and wilderness of America; that 

servitude and hard labour were things gentlemen could never 

stoop to; that it was but the way to force them to be their own 

executioners afterwards, which was much worse; and that 

therefore he could not have any patience when he did but 

think of being transported.



I used the utmost of my endeavour to persuade him, and joined 

that known woman's rhetoric to it--I mean, that of tears.  I told 

him the infamy of a public execution was certainly a greater 

pressure upon the spirits of a gentleman than any of the 

mortifications that he could meet with abroad could be; that 

he had at least in the other a chance for his life, whereas here 

he had none at all; that it was the easiest thing in the world 

for him to manage the captain of a ship, who were, generally 

speaking, men of good-humour and some gallantry; and a 

small matter of conduct, especially if there was any money 

to be had, would make way for him to buy himself off when 

he came to Virginia.



He looked wistfully at me, and I thought I guessed at what he 

meant, that is to say, that he had no money; but I was mistaken, 

his meaning was another way.  'You hinted just now, my dear,' 

said he, 'that there might be a way of coming back before I 

went, by which I understood you that it might be possible to 

buy it off here.  I had rather give #200 to prevent going, than 

#100 to be set at liberty when I came there.'  'That is, my dear,' 

said I, 'because you do not know the place so well as I do.'  

'That may be,' said he; 'and yet I believe, as well as you know 

it, you would do the same, unless it is because, as you told 

me, you have a mother there.'



I told him, as to my mother, it was next to impossible but 

that she must be dead many years before; and as for any other 

relations that I might have there, I knew them not now; that 

since the misfortunes I had been under had reduced me to the 

condition I had been in for some years, I had not kept up any 

correspondence with them; and that he would easily believe, 

I should find but a cold reception from them if I should be 

put to make my first visit in the condition of a transported 

felon; that therefore, if I went thither, I resolved not to see 

them; but that I had many views in going there, if it should be 

my fate, which took off all the uneasy part of it; and if he 

found himself obliged to go also, I should easily instruct him 

how to manage himself, so as never to go a servant at all, 

especially since I found he was not destitute of money, which 

was the only friend in such a condition.



He smiled, and said he did not tell me he had money.  I took 

him up short, and told him I hoped he did not understand by 

my speaking, that I should expect any supply from him if he 

had money; that, on the other hand, though I had not a great 

deal, yet I did not want, and while I had any I would rather 

add to him than weaken him in that article, seeing, whatever 

he had, I knew in the case of transportation he would have 

occasion of it all.



He expressed himself in a most tender manner upon that head.  

He told me what money he had was not a great deal, but that 

he would never hide any of it from me if I wanted it, and that 

he assured me he did not speak with any such apprehensions; 

that he was only intent upon what I had hinted to him before 

he went; that here he knew what to do with himself, but that 

there he should be the most ignorant, helpless wretch alive.



I told him he frighted and terrified himself with that which 

had no terror in it; that if he had money, as I was glad to hear 

he had, he might not only avoid the servitude supposed to be 

the consequence of transportation, but begin the world upon 

a new foundation, and that such a one as he could not fail of 

success in, with the common application usual in such cases; 

that he could not but call to mind that is was what I had 

recommended to him many years before and had proposed it 

for our mutual subsistence and restoring our fortunes in the 

world; and I would tell him now, that to convince him both 

of the certainty of it and of my being fully acquainted with the 

method, and also fully satisfied in the probability of success, 

he should first see me deliver myself from the necessity of 

going over at all, and then that I would go with him freely, 

and of my own choice, and perhaps carry enough with me to 

satisfy him that I did not offer it for want of being able to live 

without assistance from him, but that I thought our mutual 

misfortunes had been such as were sufficient to reconcile us 

both to quitting this part of the world, and living where 

nobody could upbraid us with what was past, or we be in any 

dread of a prison, and without agonies of a condemned hole 

to drive us to it; this where we should look back on all our 

past disasters with infinite satisfaction, when we should 

consider that our enemies should entirely forget us, and that 

we should live as new people in a new world, nobody having 

anything to say to us, or we to them.



I pressed this home to him with so many arguments, and 

answered all his own passionate objections so effectually that 

he embraced me, and told me I treated him with such sincerity 

and affection as overcame him; that he would take my advice, 

and would strive to submit to his fate in hope of having the 

comfort of my assistance, and of so faithful a counsellor and 

such a companion in his misery.  But still he put me in mind 

of what I had mentioned before, namely, that there might be 

some way to get off before he went, and that it might be 

possible to avoid going at all, which he said would be much 

better.  I told him he should see, and be fully satisfied, that I 

would do my utmost in that part too, and if it did not succeed, 

yet that I would make good the rest.



We parted after this long conference with such testimonies of 

kindness and affection as I thought were equal, if not superior, 

to that at our parting at Dunstable; and now I saw more plainly 

than before, the reason why he declined coming at that time 

any farther with me toward London than Dunstable, and why, 

when we parted there, he told me it was not convenient for 

him to come part of the way to London to bring me going, as 

he would otherwise have done.  I have observed that the 

account of his life would have made a much more pleasing 

history than this of mine; and, indeed, nothing in it was more 

strange than this part, viz. that he carried on that desperate 

trade full five-and-twenty years and had never been taken, 

the success he had met with had been so very uncommon, and 

such that sometimes he had lived handsomely, and retired in 

place for a year or two at a time, keeping himself and a 

man-servant to wait on him, and had often sat in the 

coffee-houses and heard the very people whom he had robbed 

give accounts of their being robbed, and of the place and 

circumstances, so that he could easily remember that it was 

the same.



In this manner, it seems, he lived near Liverpool at the time 

he unluckily married me for a fortune.  Had I been the fortune 

he expected, I verily believe, as he said, that he would have 

taken up and lived honestly all his days.



He had with the rest of his misfortunes the good luck not to 

be actually upon the spot when the robbery was done which 

he was committed for, and so none of the persons robbed 

could swear to him, or had anything to charge upon him.  But 

it seems as he was taken with the gang, one hard-mouthed 

countryman swore home to him, and they were like to have 

others come in according to the publication they had made; 

so that they expected more evidence against him, and for that 

reason he was kept in hold.



However, the offer which was made to him of admitting him to 

transportation was made, as I understood, upon the intercession 

of some great person who pressed him hard to accept of it before 

a trial; and indeed, as he knew there were several that might 

come in against him, I thought his friend was in the right, and 

I lay at him night and day to delay it no longer.



At last, with much difficulty, he gave his consent; and as he 

was not therefore admitted to transportation in court, and on 

his petition, as I was, so he found himself under a difficulty 

to avoid embarking himself as I had said he might have done; 

his great friend, who was his intercessor for the favour of that 

grant, having given security for him that he should transport 

himself, and not return within the term.



This hardship broke all my measures, for the steps I took 

afterwards for my own deliverance were hereby rendered 

wholly ineffectual, unless I would abandon him, and leave 

him to go to America by himself; than which he protested he 

would much rather venture, although he were certain to go 

directly to the gallows.



I must now return to my case.  The time of my being transported 

according to my sentence was near at hand; my governess, who 

continued my fast friend, had tried to obtain a pardon, but it 

could not be done unless with an expense too heavy for my 

purse, considering that to be left naked and empty, unless I had 

resolved to return to my old trade again, had been worse than 

my transportation, because there I knew I could live, here I 

could not.  The good minister stood very hard on another 

account to prevent my being transported also; but he was 

answered, that indeed my life had been given me at his first 

solicitations, and therefore he ought to ask no more. He was 

sensibly grieved at my going, because, as he said, he feared I 

should lose the good impressions which a prospect of death 

had at first made on me, and which were since increased by 

his instructions; and the pious gentleman was exceedingly 

concerned about me on that account.



On the other hand, I really was not so solicitous about it as I 

was before, but I industriously concealed my reasons for it 

from the minister, and to the last he did not know but that I 

went with the utmost reluctance and affliction.



It was in the month of February that I was, with seven other 

convicts, as they called us, delivered to a merchant that traded 

to Virginia, on board a ship, riding, as they called it, in 

Deptford Reach.  The officer of the prison delivered us on 

board, and the master of the vessel gave a discharge for us.



We were for that night clapped under hatches, and kept so 

close that I thought I should have been suffocated for want 

of air; and the next morning the ship weighed, and fell down 

the river to a place they call Bugby's Hole, which was done, 

as they told us, by the agreement of the merchant, that all 

opportunity of escape should be taken from us.  However, 

when the ship came thither and cast anchor, we were allowed 

more liberty, and particularly were permitted to come up on 

the deck, but not up on the quarter-deck, that being kept 

particularly for the captain and for passengers.



When by the noise of the men over my head, and the motion 

of the ship, I perceived that they were under sail, I was at first 

greatly surprised, fearing we should go away directly, and that 

our friends would not be admitted to see us any more; but I 

was easy soon after, when I found they had come to an anchor 

again, and soon after that we had notice given by some of the 

men where we were, that the next morning we should have 

the liberty to come up on deck, and to have our friends come 

and see us if we had any.



All that night I lay upon the hard boards of the deck, as the 

passengers did, but we had afterwards the liberty of little 

cabins for such of us as had any bedding to lay in them, and 

room to stow any box or trunk for clothes and linen, if we 

had it (which might well be put in), for some of them had 

neither shirt nor shift or a rag of linen or woollen, but what 

was on their backs, or a farthing of money to help themselves; 

and yet I did not find but they fared well enough in the ship, 

especially the women, who got money from the seamen for 

washing their clothes, sufficient to  purchase any common 

things that they wanted.



When the next morning we had the liberty to come up on the 

deck, I asked one of the officers of the ship, whether I might 

not have the liberty to send a letter on shore, to let my friends 

know where the ship lay, and to get some necessary things 

sent to me.  This was, it seems, the boatswain, a very civil, 

courteous sort of man, who told me I should have that, or any 

other liberty that I desired, that he could allow me with safety. 

 I told him I desired no other; and he answered that the ship's 

boat would go up to London the next tide, and he would order 

my letter to be carried.



Accordingly, when the boat went off, the boatswain came to 

me and told me the boat was going off, and that he went in it 

himself, and asked me if my letter was ready he would take 

care of it.  I had prepared myself, you may be sure, pen, ink, 

and paper beforehand, and I had gotten a letter ready directed 

to my governess, and enclosed another for my fellow-prisoner, 

which, however, I did not let her know was my husband, not 

to the last.  In that to my governess, I let her know where the 

ship lay, and pressed her earnestly to send me what things I 

knew she had got ready for me for my voyage.



When I gave the boatswain the letter, I gave him a shilling 

with it, which I told him was for the charge of a messenger 

or porter, which I entreated him to send with the letter as 

soon as he came on shore, that if possible I might have an 

answer brought back by the same hand, that I might know 

what was become of my things; 'for sir,' says I, 'if the ship 

should go away before I have them on board, I am undone.'



I took care, when I gave him the shilling, to let him see that 

I had a little better furniture about me than the ordinary 

prisoners, for he saw that I had a purse, and in it a pretty deal 

of money; and I found that the very sight of it immediately 

furnished me with very different treatment from what I should 

otherwise have met with in the ship; for though he was very 

courteous indeed before, in a kind of natural compassion to 

me, as a woman in distress, yet he was more than ordinarily 

so afterwards, and procured me to be better treated in the ship 

than, I say, I might otherwise have been; as shall appear in 

its place.



He very honestly had my letter delivered to my governess's 

own hands, and brought me back an answer from her in writing; 

and when he gave me the answer, gave me the shilling again.  

'There,' says he, 'there's your shilling again too, for I delivered 

the letter myself.'  I could not tell what to say, I was so surprised 

at the thing; but after some pause, I said, 'Sir, you are too kind; 

it had been but reasonable that you had paid yourself coach-hire, 

then.'



'No, no,' says he, 'I am overpaid.  What is the gentlewoman?  

Your sister.'



'No, sir,' says I, 'she is no relation to me, but she is a dear 

friend, and all the friends I have in the world.'  'Well,' says 

he, 'there are few such friends in the world.  Why, she cried 

after you like a child,'  'Ay,' says I again, 'she would give a 

hundred pounds, I believe, to deliver me from this dreadful 

condition I am in.'



'Would she so?' says he.  'For half the money I believe I could 

put you in a way how to deliver yourself.'  But this he spoke 

softly, that nobody could hear.



'Alas! sir,' said I, 'but then that must be such a deliverance 

as, if I should be taken again, would cost me my life.'  'Nay,' 

said he, 'if you were once out of the ship, you must look to 

yourself afterwards; that I can say nothing to.'  So we dropped 

the discourse for that time.



In the meantime, my governess, faithful to the last moment, 

conveyed my letter to the prison to my husband, and got an 

answer to it, and the next day came down herself to the ship, 

bringing me, in the first place, a sea-bed as they call it, and 

all its furniture, such as was convenient, but not to let the 

people think it was extraordinary.  She brought with her a 

sea-chest--that is, a chest, such as are made for seamen, with 

all the conveniences in it, and filled with everything almost 

that I could want; and in one of the corners of the chest, where 

there was a private drawer, was my bank of money--this is to 

say, so much of it as I had resolved to carry with me; for I 

ordered a part of my stock to be left behind me, to be sent 

afterwards in such goods as I should want when I came to 

settle; for money in that country is not of much use where all 

things are brought for tobacco, much more is it a great loss 

to carry it from hence.



But my case was particular; it was by no means proper to me 

to go thither without money or goods, and for a poor convict, 

that was to be sold as soon as I came on shore, to carry with 

me a cargo of goods would be to have notice taken of it, and 

perhaps to have them seized by the public; so I took part of my 

stock with me thus, and left the other part with my governess.



My governess brought me a great many other things, but it 

was not proper for me to look too well provided in the ship, 

at least till I knew what kind of a captain we should have.  

When she came into the ship, I thought she would have died 

indeed; her heart sank at the sight of me, and at the thoughts 

of parting with me in that condition, and she cried so intolerably, 

I could not for a long time have any talk with her.



I took that time to read my fellow-prisoner's letter, which, 

however, greatly perplexed me.  He told me was determined 

to go, but found it would be impossible for him to be discharged 

time enough for going in the same ship, and which was more 

than all, he began to question whether they would give him 

leave to go in what ship he pleased, though he did voluntarily 

transport himself; but that they would see him put on board 

such a ship as they should direct, and that he would be charged 

upon the captain as other convict prisoners were; so that he 

began to be in despair of seeing me till he came to Virginia, 

which made him almost desperate; seeing that, on the other 

hand, if I should not be there, if any accident of the sea or of 

mortality should take me away, he should be the most undone 

creature there in the world.



This was very perplexing, and I knew not what course to take.  

I told my governess the story of the boatswain, and she was 

mighty eager with me treat with him; but I had no mind to it, 

till I heard whether my husband, or fellow-prisoner, so she 

called him, could be at liberty to go with me or no.  At last I 

was forced to let her into the whole matter, except only that 

of his being my husband.  I told her I had made a positive 

bargain or agreement with him to go, if he could get the liberty 

of going in the same ship, and that I found he had money.



Then I read a long lecture to her of what I proposed to do 

when we came there, how we could plant, settle, and, in short, 

grow rich without any more adventures; and, as a great secret, 

I told her that we were to marry as soon as he came on board.



She soon agreed cheerfully to my going when she heard this, 

and she made it her business from that time to get him out of 

the prison in time, so that he might go in the same ship with 

me, which at last was brought to pass, though with great 

difficulty, and not without all the forms of a transported 

prisoner-convict, which he really was not yet, for he had not 

been tried, and which was a great mortification to him.  As 

our fate was now determined, and we were both on board, 

actually bound to Virginia, in the despicable quality of 

transported convicts destined to be sold for slaves, I for five 

years, and he under bonds and security not to return to England 

any more, as long as he lived, he was very much dejected and 

cast down; the mortification of being brought on board, as he 

was, like a prisoner, piqued him very much, since it was first 

told him he should transport himself, and so that he might go 

as a gentleman at liberty.  It is true he was not ordered to be 

sold when he came there, as we were, and for that reason he 

was obliged to pay for his passage to the captain, which we 

were not; as to the rest, he was as much at a loss as a child 

what to do with himself, or with what he had, but by directions.



Our first business was to compare our stock.  He was very 

honest to me, and told me his stock was pretty good when he 

came into the prison, but the living there as he did in a figure 

like a gentleman, and, which was ten times as much, the 

making of friends, and soliciting his case, had been very 

expensive; and, in a word, all his stock that he had left was 

#108, which he had about him all in gold.



I gave him an account of my stock as faithfully, that is to say, 

of what I had taken to carry with me, for I was resolved, 

whatever should happen, to keep what I had left with my 

governess in reserve; that in case I should die, what I had with 

me was enough to give him, and that which was left in my 

governess's hands would be her own, which she had well 

deserved of me indeed.



My stock which I had with me was #246 some odd shillings; 

so that we had #354 between us, but a worse gotten estate was 

scarce ever put together to being the world with.



Our greatest misfortune as to our stock was that it was all in 

money, which every one knows is an unprofitable cargo to be 

carried to the plantations.  I believe his was really all he had 

left in the world, as he told me it was; but I, who had between 

#700 and #800 in bank when this disaster befell me, and who 

had one of the faithfullest friends in the world to manage it 

for me, considering she was a woman of manner of religious 

principles, had still #300 left in her hand, which I reserved as 

above; besides, some very valuable things, as particularly two 

gold watches, some small pieces of plate, and some rings--all

stolen goods.  The plate, rings, and watches were put in my 

chest with the money, and with this fortune, and in the 

sixty-first year of my age, I launched out into a new world, 

as I may call it, in the condition (as to what appeared) only 

of a poor, naked convict, ordered to be transported in respite 

from the gallows.  My clothes were poor and mean, but not 

ragged or dirty, and none knew in the whole ship that I had 

anything of value about me.



However, as I had a great many very good clothes and linen 

in abundance, which I had ordered to be packed up in two 

great boxes, I had them shipped on board, not as my goods, 

but as consigned to my real name in Virginia; and had the 

bills of loading signed by a captain in my pocket; and in these 

boxes was my plate and watches, and everything of value 

except my money, which I kept by itself in a private drawer 

in my chest, which could not be found, or opened, if found, 

with splitting the chest to pieces.



In this condition I lay for three weeks in the ship, not knowing 

whether I should have my husband with me or no, and therefore 

not resolving how or in what manner to receive the honest 

boatswain's proposal, which indeed he thought a little strange 

at first.



At the end of this time, behold my husband came on board.  

He looked with a dejected, angry countenance, his great heart 

was swelled with rage and disdain; to be dragged along with 

three keepers of Newgate, and put on board like a convict, 

when he had not so much as been brought to a trial.  He made 

loud complaints of it by his friends, for it seems he had some 

interest; but his friends got some check in their application, 

and were told he had had favour enough, and that they had 

received such an account of him, since the last grant of his 

transportation, that he ought to think himself very well treated 

that he was not prosecuted anew.  This answer quieted him at 

once, for he knew too much what might have happened, and 

what he had room to expect; and now he saw the goodness of 

the advice to him, which prevailed with him to accept of the 

offer of a voluntary transportation.  And after this his chagrin 

at these hell-hounds, as he called them, was a little over, he 

looked a little composed, began to be cheerful, and as I was 

telling him how glad I was to have him once more out of their 

hands, he took me in his arms, and acknowledged with great 

tenderness that I had given him the best advice possible.  'My 

dear,' says he, 'thou has twice saved my life; from henceforward 

it shall be all employed for you, and I'll always take your advice.'



The ship began now to fill; several passengers came on board, 

who were embarked on no criminal account, and these had 

accommodations assigned them in the great cabin, and other 

parts of the ship, whereas we, as convicts, were thrust down 

below, I know not where.  But when my husband came on 

board, I spoke to the boatswain, who had so early given me 

hints of his friendship in carrying my letter.  I told him he had 

befriended me in many things, and I had not made any suitable 

return to him, and with that I put a guinea into his hand.  I told 

him that my husband was now come on board; that though 

we were both under the present misfortune, yet we had been 

persons of a different character from the wretched crew that 

we came with, and desired to know of him, whether the captain 

might not be moved to admit us to some conveniences in the 

ship, for which we would make him what satisfaction he 

pleased, and that we would gratify him for his pains in procuring 

this for us.  He took the guinea, as I could see, with great 

satisfaction, and assured me of his assistance.



Then he told us he did not doubt but that the captain, who was 

one of the best-humoured gentlemen in the world, would be 

easily brought to accommodate us as well as we could desire, 

and, to make me easy, told me he would go up the next tide 

on purpose to speak to the captain about it.  The next morning, 

happening to sleep a little longer than ordinary, when I got up, 

and began to look abroad, I saw the boatswain among the men 

in his ordinary business.  I was a little melancholy at seeing 

him there, and going forward to speak to him, he saw me, and 

came towards me, but not giving him time to speak first, I said, 

smiling, 'I doubt, sir, you have forgot us, for I see you are very 

busy.'  He returned presently, 'Come along with me, and you 

shall see.'  So he took me into the great cabin, and there sat 

a good sort of a gentlemanly man for a seaman, writing, and 

with a great many papers before him.



'Here,' says the boatswain to him that was a-writing, 'is the 

gentlewoman that the captain spoke to you of'; and turning to 

me, he said, 'I have been so far from forgetting your business, 

that I have been up at the captain's house, and have represented 

faithfully to the captain what you said, relating to you being 

furnished with better conveniences for yourself and your 

husband; and the captain has sent this gentleman, who is made 

of the ship, down with me, on purpose to show you everything, 

and to accommodate you fully to your content, and bid me 

assure you that you shall not be treated like what you were at 

first expected to be, but with the same respect as other passengers 

are treated.'



The mate then spoke to me, and, not giving me time to thank 

the boatswain for his kindness, confirmed what the boatswain 

had said, and added that it was the captain's delight to show 

himself kind and charitable, especially to those that were 

under any misfortunes, and with that he showed me several 

cabins built up, some in the great cabin, and some partitioned 

off, out of the steerage, but opening into the great cabin on 

purpose for the accommodation of passengers, and gave me 

leave to choose where I would.  However, I chose a cabin 

which opened into the steerage, in which was very good 

conveniences to set our chest and boxes, and a table to eat on.



The mate then told me that the boatswain had given so good 

a character of me and my husband, as to our civil behaviour, 

that he had orders to tell me we should eat with him, if we 

thought fit, during the whole voyage, on the common terms 

of passengers; that we might lay in some fresh provisions, if 

we pleased; or if not, he should lay in his usual store, and we 

should have share with him.  This was very reviving news to 

me, after so many hardships and afflictions as I had gone 

through of late.  I thanked him, and told him the captain should 

make his own terms with us, and asked him leave to go and 

tell my husband of it, who was not very well, and was not yet 

out of his cabin.  Accordingly I went, and my husband, whose 

spirits were still so much sunk with the indignity (as he 

understood it) offered him, that he was scare yet himself, was 

so revived with the account that I gave him of the reception 

we were like to have in the ship, that he was quite another man, 

and new vigour and courage appeared in his very countenance.  

So true is it, that the greatest of spirits, when overwhelmed 

by their afflictions, are subject to the greatest dejections, and 

are the most apt to despair and give themselves up.



After some little pause to recover himself, my husband came 

up with me, and gave the mate thanks for the kindness, which 

he had expressed to us, and sent suitable acknowledgment by 

him to the captain, offering to pay him by advance, whatever 

he demanded for our passage, and for the conveniences he had 

helped us to.  The mate told him that the captain would be on 

board in the afternoon, and that he would leave all that till he 

came.  Accordingly, in the afternoon the captain came, and we 

found him the same courteous, obliging man that the boatswain 

had represented him to be; and he was so well pleased with 

my husband's conversation, that, in short, he would not let us 

keep the cabin we had chosen, but gave us one that, as I said 

before, opened into the great cabin.



Nor were his conditions exorbitant, or the man craving and 

eager to make a prey of us, but for fifteen guineas we had our 

whole passage and provisions and cabin, ate at the captain's 

table, and were very handsomely entertained.



The captain lay himself in the other part of the great cabin, 

having let his round house, as they call it, to a rich planter 

who went over with his wife and three children, who ate by 

themselves.  He had some other ordinary passengers, who 

quartered in the steerage, and as for our old fraternity, they 

were kept under the hatches while the ship lay there, and came 

very little on the deck.



I could not refrain acquainting my governess with what had 

happened; it was but just that she, who was so really concerned 

for me, should have part in my good fortune.  Besides, I wanted 

her assistance to supply me with several necessaries, which 

before I was shy of letting anybody see me have, that it might 

not be public; but now I had a cabin and room to set things in, 

I ordered abundance of good things for our comfort in the 

voyage, as brandy, sugar, lemons, etc., to make punch, and 

treat our benefactor, the captain; and abundance of things for 

eating and drinking in the voyage; also a larger bed, and bedding 

proportioned to it; so that, in a word, we resolved to want for 

nothing in the voyage.



All this while I had provided nothing for our assistance when 

we should come to the place and begin to call ourselves planters; 

and I was far from being ignorant of what was needful on that 

occasion; particularly all sorts of tools for the planter's work, 

and for building; and all kinds of furniture for our dwelling, 

which, if to be bought in the country, must necessarily cost 

double the price.



So I discoursed that point with my governess, and she went 

and waited upon the captain, and told him that she hoped ways 

might be found out for her two unfortunate cousins, as she 

called us, to obtain our freedom when we came into the country, 

and so entered into a discourse with him about the means and 

terms also, of which I shall say more in its place; and after 

thus sounding the captain, she let him know, though we were 

unhappy in the circumstances that occasioned our going, yet 

that we were not unfurnished to set ourselves to work in the 

country, and we resolved to settle and live there as planters, 

if we might be put in a way how to do it.  The captain readily 

offered his assistance, told her the method of entering upon 

such business, and how easy, nay, how certain it was for 

industrious people to recover their fortunes in such a manner.  

'Madam,' says he, ''tis no reproach to any many in that country 

to have been sent over in worse circumstances than I perceive 

your cousins are in, provided they do but apply with diligence 

and good judgment to the business of that place when they 

come there.'



She then inquired of him what things it was necessary we 

should carry over with us, and he, like a very honest as well 

as knowing man, told her thus:  'Madam, your cousins in the 

first place must procure somebody to buy them as servants, 

in conformity to the conditions of their transportation, and 

then, in the name of that person, they may go about what they 

will; they may either purchase some plantations already begun, 

or they may purchase land of the Government of the country, 

and begin where they please, and both will be done reasonably.'  

She bespoke his favour in the first article, which he promised 

to her to take upon himself, and indeed faithfully performed 

it, and as to the rest, he promised to recommend us to such as 

should give us the best advice, and not to impose upon us, 

which was as much as could be desired.



She then asked him if it would not be necessary to furnish us 

with a stock of tools and materials for the business of planting, 

and he said, 'Yes, by all means.'  And then she begged his 

assistance in it.  She told him she would furnish us with 

everything that was convenient whatever it cost her.  He 

accordingly gave her a long particular of things necessary for 

a planter, which, by his account, came to about fourscore or 

a hundred pounds.  And, in short, she went about as dexterously 

to buy them, as if she had been an old Virginia merchant; only 

that she bought, by my direction, above twice as much of 

everything as he had given her a list of.



These she put on board in her own name, took his bills of 

loading for them, and endorsed those bills of loading to my 

husband, insuring the cargo afterwards in her own name, by 

our order; so that we were provided for all events, and for 

all disasters.



I should have told you that my husband gave her all his whole 

stock of #108, which, as I have said, he had about him in gold, 

to lay out thus, and I gave her a good sum besides; sot that I 

did not break into the stock which I had left in her hands at 

all, but after we had sorted out our whole cargo, we had yet 

near #200 in money, which was more than enough for our 

purpose.



In this condition, very cheerful, and indeed joyful at being so 

happily accommodated as we were, we set sail from Bugby's

Hole to Gravesend, where the ship lay about ten more days, 

and where the captain came on board for good and all.  Here 

thecaptain offered us a civility, which indeed we had no reason 

to expect, namely, to let us go on shore and refresh ourselves, 

upon giving our words in a solemn manner that we would not 

go from him, and that we would return peaceably on board 

again.  This was such an evidence of his confidence in us, 

that it overcame my husband, who, in a mere principle of 

gratitude, told him, as he could not be in any capacity to make 

a suitable return for such a favour, so he could not think of 

accepting of it, nor could he be easy that the captain should 

run such a risk.  After some mutual civilities, I gave my 

husband a purse, in which was eighty guineas, and he put in 

into the captain's hand.  'There, captain,' says he, 'there's 

part of a pledge for our fidelity; if we deal dishonestly with 

you on any account, 'tis your own.'  And on this we went 

on shore.



Indeed, the captain had assurance enough of our resolutions 

to go, for that having made such provision to settle there, it 

did not seem rational that we would choose to remain here at 

the expense and peril of life, for such it must have been if we 

had been taken again.  In a word, we went all on shore with 

the captain, and supped together in Gravesend, where we were 

very merry, stayed all night, lay at the house where we supped, 

and came all very honestly on board again with him in the 

morning.  Here we bought ten dozen bottles of good beer, some 

wine, some fowls, and such things as we thought might be 

acceptable on board.



My governess was with us all this while, and went with us 

round into the Downs, as did also the captain's wife, with 

whom she went back.  I was never so sorrowful at parting 

with my own mother as I was at parting with her, and I never 

saw her more.  We had a fair easterly wind sprung up the third 

day after we came to the Downs, and we sailed from thence 

the 10th of April.  Nor did we touch any more at any place, 

till, being driven on the coast of Ireland by a very hard gale 

of wind, the ship came to an anchor in a little bay, near the 

mouth of a river, whose name I remember not, but they said 

the river came down from Limerick, and that it was the largest 

river in Ireland.



Here, being detained by bad weather for some time, the captain, 

who continued the same kind, good-humoured man as at 

first, took us two on shore with him again.  He id it now in 

kindness to my husband indeed, who bore the sea very ill, and 

was very sick, especially when it blew so hard.  Here we 

bought in again a store of fresh provisions, especially beef, 

pork, mutton, and fowls, and the captain stayed to pickle up 

five or six barrels of beef to lengthen out the ship's store.  We 

were here not above five days, when the weather turning mild, 

and a fair wind, we set sail again, and in two-and-forty days 

came safe to the coast of Virginia.



When we drew near to the shore, the captain called me to him, 

and told me that he found by my discourse I had some relations 

in the place, and that I had been there before, and so he supposed 

I understood the custom in their disposing the convict prisoners 

when they arrived.  I told him I did not, and that as to what 

relations I had in the place, he might be sure I would make 

myself known to none of them while I was in the circumstances 

of a prisoner, and that as to the rest, we left ourselves entirely 

to him to assist us, as he was pleased to promise us he would 

do.  He told me I must get somebody in the place to come and 

buy us as servants, and who must answer for us to the governor 

of the country, if he demanded us.  I told him we should do as 

she should direct; so he brought a planter to treat with him, as 

it were, for the purchase of these two servants, my husband 

and me, and there we were formally sold to him, and went 

ashore with him.  The captain went with us, and carried us to 

a certain house, whether it was to be called a tavern or not I 

know not, but we had a bowl of punch there made of rum, etc., 

and were very merry.  After some time the planter gave us a 

certificate of discharge, and an acknowledgment of having 

served him faithfully, and we were free from him the next 

morning, to go wither we would.



For this piece of service the captain demanded of us six 

thousand weight of tabacco, which he said he was accountable 

for to his freighter, and which we immediately bought for him, 

and made him a present of twenty guineas besides, with which 

he was abundantly satisfied.



It is not proper to enter here into the particulars of what part 

of the colony of Virginia we settled in, for divers reasons; it 

may suffice to mention that we went into the great river 

Potomac, the ship being bound thither; and there we intended 

to have settled first, though afterwards we altered our minds.



The first thing I did of moment after having gotten all our 

goods on shore, and placed them in a storehouse, or warehouse, 

which, with a lodging, we hired at the small place or village 

where we landed--I say, the first thing was to inquire after my 

mother, and after my brother (that fatal person whom I married 

as a husband, as I have related at large).  A little inquiry 

furnished me with information that Mrs.----, that is, my mother, 

was dead; that my brother (or husband) was alive, which I 

confess I was not very glad to hear; but which was worse, I 

found he was removed from the plantation where he lived 

formerly, and where I lived with him, and lived with one of 

his sons in a plantation just by the place where we landed, 

and where we had hired a warehouse. 



I was a little surprised at first, but as I ventured to satisfy 

myself that he could not know me, I was not only perfectly 

easy, but had a great mind to see him, if it was possible to so 

do without his seeing me.  In order to that I found out by 

inquiry the plantation where he lived, and with a woman of 

that place whom I got to help me, like what we call a chairwoman, 

I rambled about towards the place as if I had only a mind to 

see the country and look about me.  At last I came so near that 

I saw the dwellinghouse.  I asked the woman whose plantation 

that was; she said it belonged to such a man, and looking out 

a little to our right hands, 'there,' says she, is the gentleman 

that owns the plantation, and his father with him.'  'What are 

their Christian names?' said I.  'I know not,' says she, 'what 

the old gentleman's name is, but the son's name is Humphrey; 

and I believe,' says she, 'the father's is so too.'  You may 

guess, if you can, what a confused mixture of joy and fight 

possessed my thoughts upon this occasion, for I immediately 

knew that this was nobody else but my own son, by that father 

she showed me, who was my own brother.  I had no mask, 

but I ruffled my hood so about my face, that I depended upon 

it that after above twenty years' absence, and withal not 

expecting anything of me in that part of the world, he would 

not be able to know anything of me.  But I need not have used 

all that caution, for the old gentleman was grown dim-sighted 

by some distemper which had fallen upon his eyes, and could 

but just see well enough to walk about, and not run against a 

tree or into a ditch.  The woman that was with me had told me 

that by a mere accident, knowing nothing of what importance 

it was to me.  As they drew near to us, I said, 'Does he know 

you, Mrs. Owen?' (so they called the woman).  'Yes,' said 

she, 'if he hears me speak, he will know me; but he can't see 

well enough to know me or anybody else'; and so she told me 

the story of his sight, as I have related.  This made me secure, 

and so I threw open my hoods again, and let them pass by me.  

It was a wretched thing for a mother thus to see her own son, 

a handsome, comely young gentleman in flourishing 

circumstances, and durst not make herself known to him, and 

durst not take any notice of him.  Let any mother of children 

that reads this consider it, and but think with what anguish of 

mind I restrained myself; what yearnings of soul I had in me 

to embrace him, and weep over him; and how I thought all my 

entrails turned within me, that my very bowels moved, and I 

knew not what to do, as I now know not how to express those 

agonies!  When he went from me I stood gazing and trembling, 

and looking after him as long as I could see him; then sitting 

down to rest me, but turned from her, and lying on my face, 

wept, and kissed the ground that he had set his foot on.



I could not conceal my disorder so much from the woman but 

that she perceived it, and thought I was not well, which I was 

obliged to pretend was true; upon which she pressed me to rise, 

the ground being damp and dangerous, which I did accordingly, 

and walked away.



As I was going back again, and still talking of this gentleman 

and his son, a new occasion of melancholy offered itself thus.  

The woman began, as if she would tell me a story to divert me:  

'There goes,' says she, 'a very odd tale among the neighbours 

where this gentleman formerly live.'  'What was that?' said 

I.  'Why,' says she, 'that old gentleman going to England, 

when he was a young man, fell in love with a young lady there, 

one of the finest women that ever was seen, and married her, 

and brought her over hither to his mother who was then living.  

He liver here several years with her,' continued she, 'and had 

several children by her, of which the young gentleman that was 

with him now was one; but after some time, the old gentlewoman, 

his mother, talking to her of something relating to herself when 

she was in England, and of her circumstances in England, 

which were bad enough, the daughter-in-law began to be very 

much surprised and uneasy; and, in short, examining further 

into things, it appeared past all contradiction that the old 

gentlewoman was her own mother, and that consequently that 

son was his wife's own brother, which struck the whole family 

with horror, and put them into such confusion that it had almost 

ruined them all.  The young woman would not live with him; 

the son, her brother and husband, for a time went distracted; 

and at last the young woman went away for England, and has 

never been hears of since.'



It is easy to believe that I was strangely affected with this story, 

but 'tis impossible to describe the nature of my disturbance.  I 

seemed astonished at the story, and asked her a thousand 

questions about the particulars, which I found she was

thoroughly acquainted with.  At last I began to inquire into the 

circumstances of the family, how the old gentlewoman, I mean 

my mother, died, and how she left what she had; for my mother 

had promised me very solemnly, that when she died she would 

do something for me, and leave it so, as that, if I was living, I 

should one way or other come at it, without its being in the 

power of her son, my brother and husband, to prevent it.  She 

told me she did not know exactly how it was ordered, but she 

had been told that my mother had left a sum of money, and 

had tied her plantation for the payment of it, to be made good 

to the daughter, if ever she could be heard of, either in England 

or elsewhere; and that the trust was left with this son, who was 

the person that we saw with his father.



This was news too good for me to make light of, and, you 

may be sure, filled my heart with a thousand thoughts, what 

courseI should take, how, and when, and in what manner I 

should make myself known, or whether I should ever make 

myself know or no.



Here was a perplexity that I had not indeed skill to manage 

myself in, neither knew I what course to take.  It lay heavy 

upon my mind night and day.  I could neither sleep nor 

converse, sothat my husband perceived it, and wondered what 

ailed me, strove to divert me, but it was all to no purpose.  He 

pressed me to tell him what it was troubled me, but I put it off, 

till at last, importuning me continually, I was forced to form 

a story, which yet had a plain truth to lay it upon too.  It old 

him I was troubled because I found we must shift our quarters 

and alter our scheme of settling, for that I found I should be 

known if I stayed in that part of the country; for that my mother 

being dead, several of my relations were come into that part 

where we then was, and that I must either discover myself to 

them, which in our present circumstances was not proper on 

many accounts, or remove; and which to do I knew not, and 

that this it was that made me so melancholy and so thoughtful.



He joined with me in this, that it was by no means proper for 

me to make myself known to anybody in the circumstances 

inwhich we then were; and therefore he told me he would be 

willing to remove to any other part of the country, or even to 

any other country if I thought fit.  But now I had another 

difficulty,which was, that if I removed to any other colony, I 

put myself out of the way of ever making a due search after 

those effects which my mother had left.  Again I could never 

so much as think of breaking the secret of my former marriage 

to my new husband; it was not a story, as I thought, that would 

bear telling, nor could I tell what might be the consequences 

of it; and it was impossible to search into the bottom of the 

thing without making it public all over the country, as well 

who I was, as what I now was also.



In this perplexity I continued a great while, and this made my 

spouse very uneasy; for he found me perplexed, and yet thought

I was not open with him, and did not let him into every part 

of my grievance; and he would often say, he wondered what 

he had done that I would not trust him with whatever it was, 

especially if it was grievous and afflicting.  The truth is, he 

ought to have been trusted with everything, for no man in the 

world could deserve better of a wife; but this was a thing I 

knew not how to open to him, and yet having nobody to 

disclose any part of it to,the burthen was too heavy for my 

mind; for let them say whatthey please of our sex not being 

able to keep a secret, my life is a plain conviction to me of the 

contrary; but be it our sex, or the man's sex, a secret of moment 

should always have a confidant,a bosom friend, to whom we 

may communicate the joy of it, or the grief of it, be it which 

it will, or it will be a double weight upon the spirits, and 

perhaps become even insupportable in itself; and this I appeal 

to all human testimony for the truth of.



And this is the cause why many times men as well as women, 

and men of the greatest and best qualities other ways, yet have 

found themselves weak in this part, and have not been able to 

bear the weight of a secret joy or of a secret sorrow, but have 

been obliged to disclose it, even for the mere giving vent to 

themselves, and to unbend the mind oppressed with the load 

andweights which attended it.  Nor was this any token of folly 

orthoughtlessness at all, but a natural consequence of the thing;

and such people, had they struggled longer with the oppression, 

would certainly have told it in their sleep, and disclosed the 

secret, let it have been of what fatal nature soever, without 

regard to the person to whom it might be exposed.  This 

necessity of nature is a thing which works sometimes with 

such vehemence in the minds of those who are guilty of any 

atrocious villainy, such as secret murder in particular, that they 

have been obliged to discover it, though the consequence 

would necessarily be their own destruction.  Now, thought it 

may be true that the divine justice ought to have the glory of 

all those discoveries and confessions, yet 'tis as certain that 

Providence, which ordinarily works by the hands of nature, 

makes use here of the same naturalcauses to produce those 

extraordinary effects.



I could give several remarkable instances of this in my long 

conversation with crime and with criminals.  I knew one fellow 

that, while I was in prison in Newgate, was one of those they 

called then night-fliers.  I know not what other word they may 

have understood it by since, but he was one who by connivance 

was admitted to go abroad every evening, when he played his 

pranks, and furnished those honest people they call thief-catchers 

with business to find out the next day, and restore for a reward 

what they had stolen the evening before.  This fellow was as 

sure to tell in his sleep all that he had done, and every step he 

had taken, what he had stolen, and where, as sure as if he had 

engaged to tell it waking, and that there was no harm or danger 

in it, and therefore he was obliged, after he had been out, to 

lock himself up, or be locked up by some of the keepers that 

had him in fee, that nobody should hear him; but, on the other 

hand, if he had told all the particulars, and given a full account 

of his rambles and success, to any comrade, any brother thief, 

or to his employers, as I may justly call them, then all was 

well with him, and he slept as quietly as other people.



As the publishing this account of my life is for the sake of the 

just moral of very part of it, and for instruction, caution, 

warning, and improvement to every reader, so this will not 

pass, I hope, for an unnecessary digression concerning some 

people being obliged to disclose the greatest secrets either of 

their own or other people's affairs.



Under the certain oppression of this weight upon my mind, I 

laboured in the case I have been naming; and the only relief 

I found for it was to let my husband into so much of it as I 

thought would convince him of the necessity there was for us 

to think of settling in some other part of the world; and the 

next consideration before us was, which part of the English 

settlements we should go to.  My husband was a perfect stranger 

to the country, and had not yet so much as a geographical 

knowledge of the situation of the several places; and I, that, 

till I wrote this, did not know what the word geographical 

signified, had only a general knowledge from long conversation 

with people that came from or went to several places; but this 

I knew, that Maryland, Pennsylvania, East and West Jersey, 

New York, and New England lay all north of Virginia, and 

that they were consequently all colder climates, to which for 

that very reason, I had an aversion.  For that as I naturally 

loved warm weather, so now I grew into years I had a stronger 

inclination to shun a cold climate.  I therefore considered of 

going to Caroline, which is the only southern colony of the 

English on the continent of America, and hither I proposed to 

go; and the rather because I might with great ease come from 

thence at any time, when it might be proper to inquire after 

my mother's effects, and to make myself known enough to 

demand them.



With this resolution I proposed to my husband our going away 

from where we was, and carrying all our effects with us to 

Caroline, where we resolved to settle; for my husband readily 

agreed to the first part, viz. that was not at all proper to stay 

where we was, since I had assured him we should be known 

there, and the rest I effectually concealed from him.



But now I found a new difficulty upon me.  The main affair 

grew heavy upon my mind still, and I could not think of going 

out of the country without somehow or other making inquiry 

into the grand affair of what my mother had one for me; nor 

could I with any patience bear the thought of going away, and 

not make myself known to my old husband (brother), or to my 

child, his son; only I would fain have had this done without 

my new husband having any knowledge of it, or they having 

any knowledge of him, or that I had such a thing as a husband.



I cast about innumerable ways in my thoughts how this might 

be done.  I would gladly have sent my husband away to

Caroline with all our goods, and have come after myself, but 

this was impracticable; he would never stir without me, being 

himself perfectly unacquainted with the country, and with the 

methods of settling there or anywhere else.  Then I thought 

wewould both go first with part of our goods, and that when 

we were settled I should come back to Virginia and fetch the 

remainder; but even then I knew he would never part with me,

and be left there to go on alone.  The case was plain; he was 

bread a gentleman, and by consequence was not only 

unacquainted, but indolent, and when we did settle, would 

much rather go out into the woods with his gun, which they 

call there hunting, and which is the ordinary work of the 

Indians, and which they do as servants; I say, he would rather 

do that than attend the natural business of his plantation.



These were therefore difficulties insurmountable, and such as 

I knew not what to do in.  I had such strong impressions on 

mymind about discovering myself to my brother, formerly 

my husband, that I could not withstand them; and the rather, 

because it ran constantly in my thoughts, that if I did not do 

it while he lived, I might in vain endeavour to convince my 

son afterward that I was really the same person, and that I was 

his mother, and so might both lose the assistance and comfort 

of the relation, and the benefit of whatever it was my mother 

had leftme; and yet, on the other hand, I could never think it 

proper to discover myself to them in the circumstances I was 

in, as well relating to the having a husband with me as to my 

being brought over by a legal transportation as a criminal; on 

both which accounts it was absolutely necessary to me to 

remove from the place where I was, and come again to him, 

as from another place and in another figure.



Upon those considerations,  I went on with telling my husband 

the absolute necessity there was of our not settling in Potomac 

River, at least that we should be presently made public there; 

whereas if we went to any other place in the world, we should 

come in with as much reputation as any family that came to 

plant; that, as it was always agreeable to the inhabitants to 

have families come among them to plant, who brought substance 

with them, either to purchase plantations or begin new ones, 

so we should be sure of a kind, agreeable reception, and that 

without any possibility of a discovery of our circumstances.



I told him in general, too, that as I had several relations in the 

place where we was, and that I durst not now let myself be 

known to them, because they would soon come into a knowledge 

of the occasion and reason of my coming over, which would be 

to expose myself to the last degree, so I had reason to believe 

that my mother, who dies here, had left me something, and 

perhaps considerable, which it might be very well worth my 

while to inquire after; but that this too could not be done 

without exposing us publicly, unless we went from hence; and 

then, wherever we settled, I might come, as it were, to visit 

and to see my brother and nephews, make myself known to 

them, claim and inquire after what was my due, be received 

with respect, and at the same time have justice done me with 

cheerfulness and good will; whereas, if I did it now, I could 

expect nothing but with trouble, such as exacting it by force, 

receiving it with curses and reluctance, and with all kinds of 

affronts, which he would not perhaps bear to see; that in case 

of being obliged to legal proofs of being really her daughter, 

I might be at loss, be obliged to have recourse to England, and 

it may be to fail at last, and so lose it, whatever it might be.  

With these arguments, and having thus acquainted my husband 

with the whole secret so far as was needful of him, we resolved 

to go and seek a settlement in some other colony, and at first 

thoughts, Caroline was the place we pitched upon.



In order to this we began to make inquiry for vessels going to 

Carolina, and in a very little while got information, that on the 

other side the bay, as they call it, namely, in Maryland, there 

was a ship which came from Carolina, laden with rice and 

other goods, and was going back again thither, and from 

thence to Jamaica, with provisions.  On this news we hired a 

sloop to take in our goods, and taking, as it were, a final 

farewell of Potomac River, we went with all our cargo over 

to Maryland.



This was a long and unpleasant voyage, and my spouse said 

it was worse to him than all the voyage from England, because 

the weather was but indifferent, the water rough, and the 

vessel small and inconvenient.  In the next place, we were full 

a hundred miles up Potomac River, in a part which they call 

Westmoreland County, and as that river is by far the greatest 

in Virginia, and I have heard say it is the greatest river in the 

world that falls into another river, and not directly into the sea, 

so we had base weather in it, and were frequently in great 

danger; for though we were in the middle, we could not see 

land on either side for many leagues together.  Then we had 

the great river or bay of Chesapeake to cross, which is where 

the river Potomac falls intoit, near thirty miles broad, and we 

entered more great vast waters whose names I know not, so 

that our voyage was full two hundred miles, in a poor, sorry 

sloop, with all our treasure, and if any accident had happened 

to us, we might at last have been very miserable; supposing 

we had lost our goods and saved our lives only, and had then 

been left naked and destitute, and in a wild, strange place not 

having one friend or acquaintance in all that part of the world.  

The very thought of it gives me some horror, even since the 

danger is past.



Well, we came to the place in five days' sailing; I think they 

call it Philip's Point; and behold, when we came thither, the 

ship bound to Carolina was loaded and gone away but three 

days before.  This was a disappointment;; but, however, I, 

that was to be discouraged with nothing, told my husband 

that since we could not get passage to Caroline, and that the 

country we was in was very fertile and good, we would, if he 

liked of it, see if we could find out anything for our tune where 

we was, and that if he liked things we would settle here.



We immediately went on shore, but found no conveniences 

just at that place, either for our being on shore or preserving 

our goods on shore, but was directed by a very honest Quaker, 

whom we found there, to go to a place about sixty miles east; 

that is to say, nearer the mouth of the bay, where he said he 

lived, and where we should be accommodated, either to plant, 

or to wait for any other place to plant in that might be more 

convenient; and he invited us with so much kindness and 

simply honesty, that we agreed to go, and the Quaker himself 

went with us.



Here we bought us two servants, viz. an English woman-servant 

just come on shore from a ship of Liverpool, and a Negro 

man-servant, things absolutely necessary for all people that 

pretended to settle in that country.  This honest Quaker was 

very helpful to us, and when we came to the place that he 

proposed to us, found us out a convenient storehouse for our 

goods, and lodging for ourselves and our servants; and about 

two months or thereabouts afterwards, by his direction, we 

took up a large piece of land from the governor of that country, 

in order to form our plantation, and so we laid the thoughts 

of going to Caroline wholly aside, having been very well 

received here, and accommodated with a convenient lodging 

till we could prepare things, and have land enough cleared, 

and timber and materials provided for building us a house, all 

which we managed by the direction of the Quaker; so that in 

one year's time we had nearly fifty acres of land cleared, part 

of it enclosed, and some of it planted with tabacco, though 

not much; besides, we had garden ground and corn sufficient 

to help supply our servants with roots and herbs and bread.



And now I persuaded my husband to let me go over the bay 

again, and inquire after my friends.  He was the willinger to 

consent to it now, because he had business upon his hands 

sufficient to employ him, besides his gun to divert him, which 

they call hunting there, and which he greatly delighted in; and 

indeed we used to look at one another, sometimes with a great 

deal of pleasure, reflecting how much better that was, not than 

Newgate only, but than the most prosperous of our circumstances 

in the wicked trade that we had been both carrying on.



Our affair was in a very good posture; we purchased of the 

proprietors of the colony as much land for #35, paid in ready 

money, as would make a sufficient plantation to employ 

between fifty and sixty servants, and which, being well 

improved, would be sufficient to us as long as we could either 

of us live; and as for children, I was past the prospect of 

anything of that kind.



But out good fortune did not end here.  I went, as I have said, 

over the bay, to the place where my brother, once a husband, 

lived; but I did not go to the same village where I was before, 

but went up another great river, on the east side of the river 

Potomac, called Rappahannock River, and by this means 

came on the back of his plantation, which was large, and by 

the help of a navigable creek, or little river, that ran into the 

Rappahannock, I came very near it.



I was now fully resolved to go up point-blank to my brother 

(husband), and to tell him who I was; but not knowing what 

temper I might find him in, or how much out of temper rather, 

I might make him by such a rash visit, I resolved to write a 

letter to him first, to let him know who I was, and that I was 

come not to give him any trouble upon the old relation, which 

I hoped was entirely forgot, but that I applied to him as a sister 

to a brother, desiring his assistance in the case of that provision 

which our mother, at her decease, had left for my support, and 

which I did not doubt but he would do me justice in, especially 

considering that I was come thus far to look after it.



I said some very tender, kind things in the letter about his 

son, which I told him he knew to be my own child, and that 

as I was guilty of nothing in marrying him, any more than he 

was in marrying me, neither of us having then known our 

being at all related to one another, so I hoped he would allow 

me the most passionate desire of once seeing my one and only 

child, and of showing something of the infirmities of a mother 

in preserving a violent affect for him, who had never been 

able to retain any thought of me one way or other.



I did believe that, having received this letter, he would 

immediately give it to his son to read, I having understood 

his eyesbeing so dim, that he could not see to read it; but it 

fell out better than so, for as his sight was dim, so he had 

allowed his son to open all letters that came to his hand for 

him, and the old gentleman being from home, or out of the 

way when my messenger came, my letter came directly to my 

son's hand, and he opened and read it.



He called the messenger in, after some little stay, and asked 

him where the person was who gave him the letter.  The 

messengertold him the place, which was about seven miles 

off, so he bid him stay, and ordering a horse to be got ready, 

and two servants, away he came to me with the messenger.  

Let any one judge the consternation I was in when my 

messenger came back, and told me the old gentleman was not 

at home, but his son was come along with him, and was just 

coming up to me.  I was perfectly confounded, for I knew not 

whether it was peace or war, nor could I tell how to behave; 

however, I had but a very few moments to think, for my son 

was at the heels of the messenger, and coming up into my 

lodgings, asked the fellow at the door something.  I suppose 

it was, for I did not hear it so as to understand it, which was 

the gentlewoman that sent him; for the messenger said, 'There 

she is, sir'; at which he comes directly up to me, kisses me, 

took me in his arms, and embraced me with so much passion 

that he could not speak, but I could feel his breast heave and 

throb like a child, that cries, but sobs, and cannot cry it out.



I can neither express nor describe the joy that touched my very 

soul when I found, for it was easy to discover that part, that 

he came not as a stranger, but as a son to a mother, and indeed 

as a son who had never before known what a mother of his 

own was; in short, we cried over one another a considerable 

while, when at last he broke out first.  'My dear mother,' says 

he, 'are you still alive?  I never expected to have seen your 

face.'  As for me, I could say nothing a great while. 



After we had both recovered ourselves a little, and were able 

to talk, he told me how things stood. As to what I had written 

to his father, he told me he had not showed my letter to his 

father, or told him anything about it; that what his grandmother 

left me was in his hands, and that he would do me justice to 

my full satisfaction; that as to his father, he was old and infirm 

both in body and mind; that he was very fretful and passionate, 

almost blind, and capable of nothing; and he questioned 

whether he would know how to act in an affair which was of 

so nice a nature as this; and that therefore he had come himself, 

as well to satisfy himself in seeing me, which he could not 

restrain himself from, as also to put it into my power to make 

a judgment, after I had seen how things were, whether I would 

discover myself to his father or no.



This was really so prudently and wisely managed, that I found 

my son was a man of sense, and needed no direction from me.  

I told him I did not wonder that his father was as he had 

described him, for that his head was a little touched before I 

went away; and principally his disturbance was because I 

could not be persuaded to conceal our relation and to live with 

him as myhusband, after I knew that he was my brother; that 

as he knew better than I what his father's present condition 

was, I should readily join with him in such measure as he 

would direct; that I was indifferent as to seeing his father, 

since I had seen him first, and he could not have told me better 

news than to tell me that what his grandmother had left me 

was entrusted in his hands, who, I doubted not, now he knew 

who I was, would, as he said, do me justice.  I inquired then 

how long my mother had been dead, and where she died, and 

told so many particulars of the family, that I left him no room 

to doubt the truth of my being really and truly his mother.



My son then inquired where I was, and how I had disposed 

myself.  I told him I was on the Maryland side of the bay, at 

the plantation of a particular friend who came from England 

in the same ship with me; that as for that side of the bay where 

he was, I had no habitation.  He told me I should go home 

with him, and live with him, if I pleased, as long as I lived; 

that as to his father, he knew nobody, and would never so 

much as guess at me.  I considered of that a little, and told 

him, that though it was really no concern to me to live at a 

distance from him, yet I could not say it would be the most 

comfortable thing in the world to me to live in the house with 

him, and to have that unhappy object always before me, which 

had been such a blow to my peace before; that though I should 

be glad to have his company (my son), or to be as near him as 

possible while I stayed, yet I could not think of being in the 

house where I should be also under constant restraint for fear 

of betraying myself in my discourse, nor should I be able to 

refrain some expressions in my conversing with him as my 

son, that might discover the whole affair, which would by no 

means be convenient.



He acknowledged that I was right in all this.  'But then, dear 

mother,' says he, 'you shall be as near me as you can.'  So he 

took me with him on horseback to a plantation next to his own, 

and where I was as well entertained as I could have been in his 

own.  Having left me there he went away home, telling me we 

would talk of the main business the next day; and having first 

called me his aunt, and given a charge to the people, who it 

seems were his tenants, to treat me with all possible respect.  

About two hours after he was gone, he sent me a maid-servant 

and a Negro boy to wait on me, and provisions ready dressed 

for my supper; and thus I was as if I had been in a new world, 

and began secretly now to wish that I had not brought my 

Lancashire husband from England at all. 



However, that wish was not hearty neither, for I lived my 

Lancashire husband entirely, as indeed I had ever done from 

the beginning; and he merited from me as much as it was 

possible for a man to do; but that by the way.



The next morning my son came to visit me again almost as 

soon as I was up.  After a little discourse, he first of all pulled 

out a deerskin bag, and gave it me, with five-and-fifty Spanish 

pistoles in it, and told me that was to supply my expenses from 

England, for though it was not his business to inquire, yet he 

ought to think I did not bring a great deal of money out with 

me, it not being usual to bring much money into that country.  

Then he pulled out his grandmother's will, and read it over to 

me, whereby it appeared that she had left a small plantation, 

as he called it, on York River, that is, where my mother lived, 

to me, with the stock of servants and cattle upon it, and given 

it in trust to this son of mine for my use, whenever he should 

hear of my being alive, and to my heirs, if I had any children, 

and in default of heirs, to whomsoever I should by will dispose 

of it; but gave the income of it, till I should be heard of, or 

found, to my said son; and if I should not be living, then it was 

to him, and his heirs.



This plantation, though remote from him, he said he did not 

let out, but managed it by a head-clerk (steward), as he did 

another that was his father's, that lay hard by it, and went over 

himself three or four times a year to look after it.  I asked him 

what he thought the plantation might be worth.  He said, if I 

would let it out, he would give me about 60 a year for it; but 

if I would live on it, then it would be worth much more, and, 

he believed, would bring me in about #150 a year.  But seeing 

I was likely either to settle on the other side of the bay, or 

might perhaps have a mind to go back to England again, if I 

would let him be my steward he would manage it for me, as 

he had done for himself, and that he believed he should be 

able to send me as much tobacco to England from it as would 

yield me about #100 a year, sometimes more.



This was all strange news to me, and things I had not been 

used to; and really my heart began to look up more seriously 

than I think it ever did before, and to look with great thankfulness 

to the hand of Providence, which had done such wonders for 

me, who had been myself the greatest wonder of wickedness 

perhaps that had been suffered to live in the world.  And I must 

again observe, that not on this occasion only, but even on all 

other occasions of thankfulness, my past wicked and abominable 

life never looked so monstrous to me, and I never so completely 

abhorred it, and reproached myself with it, as when I had a 

sense upon me of Providence doing good to me, while I had 

been making those vile returns on my part.



But I leave the reader to improve these thoughts, as no doubt 

they will see cause, and I go on to the fact.  My son's tender 

carriage and kind offers fetched tears from me, almost all the 

while he talked with me.  Indeed, I could scarce discourse 

with him but in the intervals of my passion; however, at length 

I began, and expressing myself with wonder at my being so 

happy to have the trust of what I had left, put into the hands 

of my own child, I told him ,that as to the inheritance of it, I 

had no child but him in the world, and was now past having 

any if I should marry, and therefore would desire him to get 

a writing drawn, which I was ready to execute, by which I 

would, after me, give it wholly to him and to his heirs.  And 

in the meantime, smiling, I asked him what made him continue 

a bachelor so long.  His answer was kind and ready, that 

Virginia did not yield any great plenty of wives, and that since 

I talked of going back to England, I should send him a wife 

from London.



This was the substance of our first day's conversation, the 

pleasantest day that ever passed over my head in my life, and

which gave me the truest satisfaction.  He came every day 

after this, and spent great part of his time with me, and carried 

me about to several of his friends' houses, where I was 

entertained with great respect.  Also I dines several times at 

his own house, when he took care always to see his half-dead 

father so out of the way that I never saw him, or he me.  I 

made him one present, and it was all I had of value, and that 

was one of the gold watches, of which I mentioned above, 

that I had two in my chest, and this I happened to have with 

me, and I gave it him at his third visit.  I told him I had nothing 

of any value to bestow but that, and I desired he would now 

and then kiss it for my sake.  I did not indeed tell him that I 

had stole it from a gentlewoman's side, at a meeting-house in 

London.  That's by the way.



He stood a little while hesitating, as if doubtful whether to 

take it or no; but I pressed it on him, and made him accept it, 

and it was not much less worth than his leather pouch full of 

Spanish gold; no, though it were to be reckoned as if at London, 

whereas it was worth twice as much there, where I gave it him.  

At length he took it, kissed it, told me the watch should be a 

debt upon him that he would be paying as long as I lived.



A few days after he brought the writings of gift, and the 

scrivener with them, and I signed them very freely, and 

delivered them to him with a hundred kisses; for sure nothing 

ever passed between a mother and a tender, dutiful child with 

more affection.  The next day he brings me an obligation 

under his hand and seal, whereby he engaged himself to 

manage and improve the plantation for my account, and with 

his utmost skill, and to remit the produce to my order wherever 

I should be; and withal, to be obliged himself to make up the 

produce #100 a year to me.  When he had done so, he told me 

that as I came to demand it before the crop was off, I had a 

right to produce of the current year, and so he paid me #100 

in Spanish pieces of eight, and desired me to give him a receipt 

for it as in full for that year, ending at Christmas following; 

this being about the latter end of August.



I stayed here about five weeks, and indeed had much ado to 

get away then.  Nay, he would have come over the bay with 

me, but I would by no means allow him to it.  However, he 

would send me over in a sloop of his own, which was built 

like a yacht, and served him as well for pleasure as business.  

This I accepted of, and so, after the utmost expressions both 

of duty and affection, he let me come away, and I arrived safe 

in two days at my friend's the Quaker's.



I brought over with me for the use of our plantation, three 

horses, with harness and saddles, some hogs, two cows, and 

a thousand other things, the gift of the kindest and tenderest 

child that ever woman had.  I related to my husband all the 

particulars of this voyage, except that I called my son my 

cousin; and first I told him that I had lost my watch, which 

he seemed to take as a misfortune; but then I told him how 

kind my cousin had been, that my mother had left me such a 

plantation, and that he had preserved it for me, in hopes some 

time or other he should hear from me; then I told him that I 

had left it to his management, that he would render me a 

faithful account of its produce; and then I pulled him out the 

#100 in silver, as the first year's produce; and then pulling 

out the deerskin purse with the pistoles, 'And here, my dear,' 

says I, 'is the gold watch.'  My husband--so is Heaven's 

goodness sure to work the same effects in all sensible minds 

where mercies touch the heart--lifted up both hands, and with 

an ecstacy of joy, 'What is God a-doing,' says he, 'for such an 

ungrateful dog as I am!'  Then I let him know what I had 

brought over in the sloop, besides all this; I mean the horses, 

hogs, and cows, and other stores for our plantation; all which 

added to his surprise, and filled his heart with thankfulness; 

and from this time forward I believe he was as sincere a penitent, 

and as thoroughly a reformed man, as ever God's goodness 

brought back from a profligate, a highwayman, and a robber.  

I could fill a larger history than this with the evidence of this 

truth, and but that I doubt that part of the story will not be 

equally diverting as the wicked part, I have had thoughts of 

making a volume of it by itself.



As for myself, as this is to be my own story, not my husband's, 

I return to that part which related to myself.  We went on with 

our plantation, and managed it with the help and diversion of 

such friends as we got there by our obliging behaviour, and 

especially the honest Quaker, who proved a faithful, generous, 

and steady friend to us; and we had very good success, for 

having a flourishing stock to begin with, as I have said, and 

this being now increased by the addition of #150 sterling in 

money, we enlarged our number of servants, built us a very 

good house, and cured every year a great deal of land.  The 

second year I wrote to my old governess, giving her part with 

us of the joy of our success, and order her how to lay out the 

money I had left with her, which was #250 as above, and to 

send it to us in goods, which she performed with her usual 

kindness and fidelity, and this arrived safe to us.



Here we had a supply of all sorts of clothes, as well for my 

husband as for myself; and I took especial care to buy for 

him all those things that I knew he delighted to have; as two 

good long wigs, two silver-hilted swords, three or four fine 

fowling-pieces, a find saddle with holsters and pistols very 

handsome, with a scarlet cloak; and, in a word, everything I 

could think of to oblige him, and to make him appear, as he 

really was, a very fine gentleman.  I ordered a good quantity 

of such household stuff as we yet wanted, with linen of all 

sorts for us both.  As for myself, I wanted very little of clothes 

or linen, being very well furnished before.  The rest of my 

cargo consisted in iron-work of all sorts, harness for horses, 

tools, clothes for servants, and woollen cloth, stuffs, serges, 

stockings, shoes, hats, and the like, such as servants wear; 

and whole pieces also to make up for servants, all by direction 

of the Quaker; and all this cargo arrived safe, and in good 

condition, with three woman-servants, lusty wenches, which 

my old governess had picked for me, suitable enough to the 

place, and to the work we had for them to do; one of which 

happened to come double, having been got with child by one 

of the seamen in the ship, as she owned afterwards, before 

the ship got so far as Gravesend; so she brought us a stout 

boy, about seven months after her landing.



My husband, you may suppose, was a little surprised at the 

arriving of all this cargo from England; and talking with me 

after he saw the account of this particular, 'My dear,' says he, 

'what is the meaning of all this?  I fear you will run us too 

deep in debt:  when shall we be able to make return for it all?'  

I smiled, and told him that is was all paid for; and then I told 

him, that what our circumstances might expose us to, I had 

not taken my whole stock with me, that I had reserved so 

much in my friend's hands, which now we were come over 

safe, and was settled in a way to live, I had sent for, as he 

might see.



He was amazed, and stood a while telling upon his fingers, 

but said nothing.  At last he began thus:  'Hold, let's see,' says 

he, telling upon his fingers still, and first on his thumb; 'there's 

#246 in money at first, then two gold watches, diamond rings, 

and plate,' says he, upon the forefinger.  Then upon the next 

finger, 'Here's a plantation on York River, #100 a year, then 

#150 in money, then a sloop load of horses, cows, hogs, and 

stores'; and so on to the thumb again.  'And now,' says he, 'a 

cargo cost #250 in England, and worth here twice the money.'  

'Well,' says I, 'what do you make of all that?'  'Make of it?' 

says he; 'why, who says I was deceived when I married a wife 

in Lancashire?  I think I have married a fortune, and a very 

good fortune too,' says he.



In a word, we were now in very considerable circumstances, 

and every year increasing; for our new plantation grew upon 

our hands insensibly, and in eight years which we lived upon 

it, we brought it to such pitch, that the produce was at least 

#300 sterling a year; I mean, worth so much in England.



After I had been a year at home again, I went over the bay to 

see my son, and to receive another year's income of my 

plantation; and I was surprised to hear, just at my landing there, 

that my old husband was dead, and had not been buried above 

a fortnight.  This, I confess, was not disagreeable news, 

because now I could appear as I was, in a married condition; 

so I told my son before I came from him, that I believed I 

should marry a gentleman who had a plantation near mine; 

and though I was legally free to marry, as to any obligation 

that was on me before, yet that I was shy of it, lest the blot 

should some time or other be revived, and it might make a 

husband uneasy.  My son, the same kind, dutiful, and obliging 

creature as ever, treated me now at his own house, paid me 

my hundred pounds, and sent me home again loaded with presents.



Some time after this, I let my son know I was married, and 

invited him over to see us, and my husband wrote a very 

obliging letter to him also, inviting him to come and see him; 

and he came accordingly some months after, and happened to 

be there just when my cargo from England came in, which I 

let him believe belonged all to my husband's estate, not to me.



It must be observed that when the old wretch my brother 

(husband) was dead, I then freely gave my husband an account 

of all that affair, and of this cousin, as I had called him before, 

being my own son by that mistaken unhappy match.  He was 

perfectly easy in the account, and told me he should have 

been as easy if the old man, as we called him, had been alive.  

'For,' said he, 'it was no fault of yours, nor of his; it was a 

mistake impossible to be prevented.'  He only reproached him 

with desiring me to conceal it, and to live with him as a wife, 

after I knew that he was my brother; that, he said, was a vile 

part.  Thus all these difficulties were made easy, and we lived 

together with the greatest kindness and comfort imaginable.



We are grown old; I am come back to England, being almost 

seventy years of age, husband sixty-eight, having performed 

much more than the limited terms of my transportation; and 

now, notwithstanding all the fatigues and all the miseries we 

have both gone through, we have both gone through, we are 

both of us in good heart and health.  My husband remained 

there some time after me to settle our affairs, and at first I had 

intended to go back to him, but at his desire I altered that 

resolution, and he is come over to England also, where we 

resolve to spend the remainder of our years in sincere penitence 

for the wicked lives we have lived.



WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1683















1

The bell at St. Sepulchre's, which tolls upon execution day.