SUSAN GRAY. 18

Although I am poor, Sir,” continued she, “ and
soon nust die, yet 1am not unhappy; and now
I am so far on my journey, I would not, were
it in my power, be restored to health, and
return again into the busy and wicked world.”

While she was speaking she grew very faint:
so for the present I besought her to speak no
more of the things that were past, telling her
that I hoped, should she get better, to hear all
her history. Then taking up a Prayer-Book
which lay by her side, I read a few prayers to
her; for I saw she was not able to go through
the whole of the service for the sick with me;
and then, having wished her a good night, and
promised that I would visit her again. the next
day, I hastened home.

When my wife heard my account of Susan,”
late as it was, she put on her hat and cloak,
and, having made a little gruel, and warmed it
with a glass of our best made wine and some
spice, she herself went down into the village to
see the poor girl. As she passed by, she called
upon Nurse Browne, a good old woman, whose
cottage is close by my garden-gate, and engaged
her to attend and wait upon the poor sick girl
till her disorder had taken some turn either for
the better or the worse; if death to so good a
girl, as Susan proved to be, can be said to
be worse than a restoration to health.

But methinks I run rather too much into
length in my story; suffice it to say, that for
about ten days my wife and I continued to visit
Susan in the poor lodging-house, at the end of
which time she was so much better, that we re-

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