mug, set ready for him to carry to bed with him.  It had no taste.  The next morning, as he had done at dinner the day before, he complained of a pain in his stomach, and the heart-burn; which he ever did before he had the gravel.  I went for Mr. Norton at eleven o’clock in the forenoon, who said, that a little physick would be right for my father to take on Wednesday.  At night he ordered some water gruel for his supper, which his footman went for.  When it came, my father said, “Taste it, Molly, has it not an odd taste?” I tasted it, but found no taste different from what is to be found in all good water gruel.  After this he went up to bed, and my father found himself sick, and reached; after which he said he was better, and I went up to bed.  Susan gave him his physick in the morning, and I went into his bed-chamber about eight o’clock; then I found him charming well.  Susan says that on my father’s wanting gruel on the Wednesday, I said, as they were busy at ironing, they might give him some of the same he had before.  I do not remember this; but if I did, it was impossible I should know that the gruel he had on Tuesday was the same he had on Monday; as that he drank on Monday was made on Saturday or Sunday, I believe on Saturday night; much less imagine that she whoever made it, and managed it as she pleased, would pretend to keep such stale gruel for her master.  Thursday and Friday he came down stairs.  I often asked Mr. Norton, “If he thought him in danger; if he did, I would send for Dr. Addington.”  On Saturday Mr. Norton told me, “he thought my father in danger.”  I said, “I would send for the doctor;” but he replied, “I had better ask my father’s leave.”  I bid him speak to my father about it, which he did; but my father replied, “Stay till to-morrow, and if I am not better then, send for him.”  As soon as I was told this, I said, “That would not satisfy me; I would send immediately, which I did; and Mr. Norton, the apothecary, attested this in Court.”  On the same night, being Saturday, the doctor came, I believe it was near twelve o’clock.  He saw my father, and wrote for him:  he did not then apprehend his case to be desperate.  I have been by this gentleman blamed, for not telling then what I had given my father.  I was in hopes that he would have lived, and that my folly would never have been known:  in order the more effectually to conceal which, the remainder of the powder I had, the Wednesday before, thrown away, and burnt Mr. Cranstoun’s letter:  so I had nothing to evince the innocence of my intention, and was moreover frightened out of my wits.  Let the good-natured part of the world put themselves in my place, and then condemn me if they can for this.  On Sunday my father said, “He was better”; but found himself obliged to keep his bed that day.  Mr. Blandy, of Kingston, a relation of ours, came to visit us, stayed with me to breakfast, and then went to church with Mr. Littleton, my father’s clerk.  I went, after they had