Dr. Lewis, who it seems was called in, was at this time with him; but he behaved perfectly like a gentleman to me.  During this confinement I had hardly any thing to eat or drink:  and once I staid from five in the afternoon till the same hour the next day without any sustenance at all, as the man with me can witness, except a single dish of tea; which, I believe, I owed to the humanity of Dr. Lewis.  I had frequently very bad fits, and my head was never quite clear; yet I was sensible the person who gave these orders had no right to confine me in such a manner.  But I bore it patiently, as my room was very near my father’s, and I was fearful of disturbing him.  Dr. Addington and Dr. Lewis then came into my room, and told me “Nothing could save my dear father.”  For some time I sat like an image; and then told them, that I had given him some powders, which I received from Cranstoun, and feared they might have hurt him, tho’ that villain assured me they were of a very innocent nature.  At my trial, it appeared, that Dr. Addington had wrote down the questions he put to me, but none of my answers to them.  The Judge asked him the reason of this.  He said, “They were not satisfactory to him.”  To which his lordship replied, “They might have been so to the Court.”  The questions were these.  Why I did not send for him sooner?  In answer to which, I told him, that I did send for him as soon as they would let me know that my father was in the least danger.  And that even at last I sent for him against my father’s consent.  This, I added, he could not but know, by what my father said, when he first came on Saturday night into his room.  The next question was, why I did not take some of the powders myself, if I thought them so innocent?  To this I answered, I never was desired by Mr. Cranstoun to take them; and that if they could produce such an effect as was ascribed to them, I was sure I had no need of them, but that had he desired this, I should most certainly have done it.  It is impossible to repeat half the miseries I went thro’, unknown, I am sure, to my poor father.  The man that was set over me as my guard had been an old servant in the family:  which I at first thought was done out of kindness; but am now convinced it was not.  When Dr. Addington was asked, “If I express’d a desire to preserve my father’s life, and on this account desired him to come again the next day, and do all he could to save him,” he said, “I did.”  He then was asked his sentiments of that matter; to which he replied, “She seemed to me more concerned for the consequences to herself than to her father.”  However, the Doctor owned that my behaviour shewed me to be anxious for my poor father’s life.  Could I paint the restless nights and days I went through, the prayers I made to God to take me and spare my father, whose death alone, unattended with other misfortunes, would have greatly shocked me, the heart of every person who has any bowels at all would undoubtedly bleed for me.  What is here advanced, the man that attended me knows to be true also, who cannot be suspected of partiality.  Susan Gunnel can attest the same.  She observed at this juncture several instances between us both of filial duty and paternal affection.