After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.

CHAP.  XXI.

Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the poor woman, whom she found quite recovered:  and, on enquiry, heard that she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only surviving child had been washed over-board the day before.  Full of her own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and then she gave way to boisterous emotions.

Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly ignorant, yet she did not despair:  and as the poor creature could not receive comfort from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours, which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.

There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of the senses:  to them did Mary address herself; she made her some presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.  This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the contention.  How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.—­She was to visit and comfort the mother of her lost friend—­And where then should she take up her residence?  These thoughts suspended the exertions of her understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.

CHAP.  XXII.

In England then landed the forlorn wanderer.  She looked round for some few moments—­her affections were not attracted to any particular part of the Island.  She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which she was going:  the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without an informing soul.  As she passed through the streets in an hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind.  She met some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors, made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow creatures!

Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw vulgarity, dirt, and vice—­her soul sickened; this was the first time such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.—­Forgetting her own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world in ruins.  She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view of innocent enjoyments:  she was fond of seeing animals play, and could not bear to see her own species sink below them.