I have heard of your Misfortune, and have offer’d your Daughter, if she will live with me, to settle on her Four hundred Pounds a year, and to lay down the Sum for which you are now distressed.  I will be so ingenuous as to tell you that I do not intend Marriage:  But if you are wise, you will use your Authority with her not to be too nice, when she has an opportunity of saving you and your Family, and of making her self happy.  I am, &c.

This Letter came to the Hands of Amanda’s Mother; she opend and read it with great Surprize and Concern.  She did not think it proper to explain her self to the Messenger, but desiring him to call again the next Morning, she wrote to her Daughter as follows.

  Dearest Child,

Your Father and I have just now receiv’d a Letter from a Gentleman who pretends Love to you, with a Proposal that insults our Misfortunes, and would throw us to a lower Degree of Misery than any thing which is come upon us.  How could this barbarous Man think, that the tenderest of Parents would be tempted to supply their Wants by giving up the best of Children to Infamy and Ruin?  It is a mean and cruel Artifice to make this Proposal at a time when he thinks our Necessities must compel us to any thing; but we will not eat the Bread of Shame; and therefore we charge thee not to think of us, but to avoid the Snare which is laid for thy Virtue.  Beware of pitying us:  It is not so bad as you have perhaps been told.  All things will yet be well, and I shall write my Child better News.

I have been interrupted.  I know not how I was moved to say things would mend.  As I was going on I was startled by a Noise of one that knocked at the Door, and hath brought us an unexpected Supply of a Debt which had long been owing.  Oh!  I will now tell thee all.  It is some days I have lived almost without Support, having conveyd what little Money I could raise to your poor Father—­Thou wilt weep to think where he is, yet be assured he will be soon at Liberty.  That cruel Letter would have broke his Heart, but I have concealed it from him.  I have no Companion at present besides little Fanny, who stands watching my Looks as I write, and is crying for her Sister.  She says she is sure you are not well, having discover’d that my present Trouble is about you.  But do not think I would thus repeat my Sorrows, to grieve thee:  No, it is to intreat thee not to make them insupportable, by adding what would be worse than all.  Let us bear chearfully an Affliction, which we have not brought on our selves, and remember there is a Power who can better deliver us out of it than by the Loss of thy Innocence.  Heaven preserve my dear Child.

  Affectionate Mother——­