what he termed the first and fondest wish of his heart, “that his affection might make her some amends for the cruelty and injustice she had endured,” inspired a sentiment of gratitude to heaven; and her eyes filled with delicious tears, when, at the conclusion of his letter, wishing to supply the place of her unworthy relations, whose want of principle he execrated, he assured her, calling her his dearest girl, “that it should henceforth be the business of his life to make her happy.”

He begged, in a note sent the following morning, to be permitted to see her, when his presence would be no intrusion on her grief, and so earnestly intreated to be allowed, according to promise, to beguile the tedious moments of absence, by dwelling on the events of her past life, that she sent him the memoirs which had been written for her daughter, promising Jemima the perusal as soon as he returned them.

CHAPTER 7

“Addressing these memoirs to you, my child, uncertain whether I shall ever have an opportunity of instructing you, many observations will probably flow from my heart, which only a mother—­a mother schooled in misery, could make.

“The tenderness of a father who knew the world, might be great; but could it equal that of a mother—­of a mother, labouring under a portion of the misery, which the constitution of society seems to have entailed on all her kind?  It is, my child, my dearest daughter, only such a mother, who will dare to break through all restraint to provide for your happiness—­who will voluntarily brave censure herself, to ward off sorrow from your bosom.  From my narrative, my dear girl, you may gather the instruction, the counsel, which is meant rather to exercise than influence your mind.—­Death may snatch me from you, before you can weigh my advice, or enter into my reasoning:  I would then, with fond anxiety, lead you very early in life to form your grand principle of action, to save you from the vain regret of having, through irresolution, let the spring-tide of existence pass away, unimproved, unenjoyed.—­Gain experience—­ah! gain it—­while experience is worth having, and acquire sufficient fortitude to pursue your own happiness; it includes your utility, by a direct path.  What is wisdom too often, but the owl of the goddess, who sits moping in a desolated heart; around me she shrieks, but I would invite all the gay warblers of spring to nestle in your blooming bosom.—­Had I not wasted years in deliberating, after I ceased to doubt, how I ought to have acted—­I might now be useful and happy.—­For my sake, warned by my example, always appear what you are, and you will not pass through existence without enjoying its genuine blessings, love and respect.

“Born in one of the most romantic parts of England, an enthusiastic fondness for the varying charms of nature is the first sentiment I recollect; or rather it was the first consciousness of pleasure that employed and formed my imagination.