not to tell thee; for I understand she is deter- || would believe her, she would assure her, she mined not to see thee, and declares she is not should never get any intelligence of me by her. thy mother. Wilt thou be owned where thou That set her into tears again ; but after a hast no relation ?

while, recovering herself, she told her,- Perhaps G. O, if I could speak to her, I would prove

she might be mistaken; and she (the Quaker) my relation to her so that she could not deny it should watch herself very narrowly, or she migbt any longer.

one time or another get some intelligence from Q. Well, but thou canst not come to speak || her, whether she would or no; and she was satis. with her, it seems.

fied she had gained some of her by this journey; G. I hope you will tell me if she is here: u for that if I was not in the house, I was not far had a good account that you were come out to

off"; and if I did not remove very quickly she see her, and that she sent for you.

would find me out. “Very well," says the Q. I much wonder how thou couldst have

Quaker ; "then if the lady is not willing to see such an account. If I had come out to see her,

thee, thou givest me notice to tell her, that sbe ! thou hast happened to miss the house, for I as.

may get out of thy way.” sure thee she is not to be found in this house.

She few out in a rage at that, and told mp i

ll friend that if she did a curse would follow her, Here the girl importuned her again with the

and her children after her, and denounced such utmost earnestness, and cried bitterly, insomuch,

horrid things upon her, as frightened the poor | that my poor Quaker was softened with it, and

tender-hearted Quaker strangely, and put ber began to persuade me to consider of it, and, if

more out of temper than ever I saw her before ; it might consist with my affairs, to see her, and

so that she resolved to go home the next morahear what she had to say; but this was after

ing, and I, that was ten times more uneasy iban wards. I return to the discourse.

she, resolved to follow her, and go to London The Quaker was perplexed with her a long li too: which, however, upon second thoughts, I time; she talked of sending back the coach, and I did not, but took effectual measures pot to be lying in the town all night. This, my friend seen or owned, if she came any more ; but I knew would be very uneasy to me, but she durst || heard no more of her for some time. not speak a word against it; but on a sudden I stayed there about a fortnight, and in all thought, she offered a bold stroke, which, though I that time I heard no more of her, or of my dangerous if it happened wrong, had its desired | Quaker about her : but after two days more, I effect.

had a letter from my Quaker, intimating that sbe She told her, that as for dismissing her coach, I had something of moment to say, that sbe that was as she pleased ; she believed she would

could not communicate by a letter, but wisbed not easily get a lodging in the town; but that as I would give myself the trouble to come up, dishe was in a strange place, she would so much recting me to come with the coach into Geod. befriend her, that she would speak to the people man's-fields, and then walk to her back-door oa of the house, that if they had room, she might foot, which being left open on purpose, the have a lodging there for one night, rather than

watchful lady, if she had any spies, could not be forced back to London, before she was free to

well see me. go.

My thoughts had for so long time been dert, This was a cunning, though a dangerous step,

as it were, waking, that almost everything gave and it succeeded accordingly, for it amused the

me the alarm, and this especially, so that I us creature entirely, and she presently concluded,

very uneasy; but I could not bring matters that really I could not be there then ; otherwise

to bear to make my coming to London so clear she would never have asked her to lie in the house; Il to my husband as I would have done; for be so she grew cold again presently as to her lodging I liked the place, and had a mind, he said, to stay there, and said,- No, since it was so, she would

a little longer, if it was not against my inei go back that afternoon, but she would come

tion; so I wrote my friend the Quaker Ford back again in two or three days, and search that

that I could not come to town vet; and that and all the surrounding towns in an effectual

besides, I could not think of being there urber manner, if she staid a week or two to do it; for

spies, and afraid to look out of doors; and so a in short, if I was in England or Holland, she short, I put off going for near a fortnight more. would find me.

At the end of that time she wrote again, is “ lo truth," says the Quaker, “thou wilt make which she told me, that she had not lately seen me very hurtful to thee, then."_“Why so ? " the impertinent visitor, which had been says she. “ Because wherever I go, thou wilt troublesome; but that she had seen my traty put thyself to great expense, and the country to agent Amy, who told her that she had cried to a great deal of unnecessary trouble.”_" Not un- |six weeks without intermission ; that Amr had necessary,” says she. “Yes, truly," says the given her an account how troublesome tbe cres Quaker; "it must be unnecessary, because it turc had been, and to what straits and perplein will be to no purpose. I think I must abide inties I was driven by her hunting after and lick my house, to save thee that charge and lowing me from place to place; upon which trouble."

Amy had said, that notwithstanding I wasang She said little to that, except that, she said, with her, and had used her so hardly for saydı she would give her as little trouble as possible; something about her of the same kind, yet the but she was afraid she should sometimes be un- was an absolute necessity of securing ber, 24 easy to her, which she hoped she would excuse. removing her out of the way; and that, in start My Quaker told her, she would much rather ex. without asking my leave, or any body's leare, & euse her, if she would forbear; for that, if she would take care she should trouble her min

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(meaning me) no more ; and that after Amy had “how canst thou entertain such a notion ? No. said so, she had indeed heard no more of the no. Made her away! Amy did not talk like girl ; so that she supposed Amy had managed it || that. I dare say thou mayest be easy in that ; so well as to put an end to it.

|| Amy has nothing of that in her head, I dare The innocent well-meaning creature, my 11 say,” says she, and so threw it, as it were, out of Quaker, who was all kindness and goodness in || my thoughts. herself, and particularly to me, saw nothing in But it would not do; it run in my head conthis; but she thought Amy had found some way | tinually ; night and day I could think of nothing to persuade her to be quiet and easy, and to give else ; and it fixed such a horror of the fact upon over teazing and following me, and rejoiced in it my spirits, and such a detestation of Amy, whom for my sake; as she thought nothing of any evil || I looked upon as the murderer, that, as for her, herself, so she suspected none in anybody else; | I believe if I could have seen her I should cerand was exceeding glad of having such good | tainly have sent her to Newgate, or some worse news to write to me; but my thoughts of it ran | place, upon suspicion ; indeed, I think I could otherwise.

have killed her with my own hands. I was struck, as with a blast from heaven, at | As for the poor girl herself, she was ever before the reading her letter; I fell into a fit of trem- | my eyes; I saw her by night and by day; she bling from head to foot, and I ran raving about haunted my imagination, if she did not haunt the room like a mad-woman; I had nobody to the house ; my fancy showed her me in a hundred speak a word to, to give vent to my passion ; nor shapes and postures; sleeping or waking, she did I speak a word for a good while, till after it 1 was with me. Sometimes I thought I saw her had almost overcome me. I threw myself upon with her throat cut; sometimes with her head the bed, and cried out-" Lord, be merciful to || cut, and her brains knocked out; other times me, she has murdered my child !”-and with that || hanged up upon a beam ; another time drowned a flood of tears burst out, and I cried vehemently | in the great pond at Camberwell. And all these for above an hour.

appearances were terrifying to the last degree; My husband was very happily gone out a and that which was still worse, I could really hear hunting, so that I had an opportunity of being nothing of her; I sent to the captain's wife in alone, and to give my passions soine vent, by | Redriff, and she answered me,- She was gone to which I had a little recovered myself. But after her relations in Spitalfields. I sent thither, and my crying was over, then I fell into a new rage they said she was there about three weeks ago, at Amy; I called her a thousand devils, and but that she went out in a coach with the gentlemonsters, and hard-hearted tigers; I reproached || woman that used to be so kind to her, but her with knowing that I abhorred it, and had let | whither she was gone they knew not, for she had her know it sufficiently, in that I had, as it Ji not been there since. I sent back the messenger were, kicked her out of doors, after so many || for a description of the woman she went out years' friendship and service, only for namning it with, and they described her so perfectly that I to me.

knew it to be Amy, and none but Amy. Well, after some time, my spouse came in l I sent her word again that Mrs Ams, whoni she from his sport, and I put on the best looks I || went out with, left her in two or three hours, and could to deceive him ; but he did not take so that they should search for her, for I had reason little notice of me as not to see I had been to fear she was murdered. This frightened them crying, and that something troubled me; and all intolerably. They believed Amy bad carried he pressed me to tell him. I seemed to bring it her to pay a sum of money, and that somebody out with reluctance, but told him, my backward. I had watched her after having received it, and had ness was more because I was ashamed that such I robbed and murdered her. a trifle should have any effect upon me than for 1 I believed nothing of that part, but I believed, any weight that was in it; so I told him I had | as it was, that whatever was done, Amy had been vexing myself about my woman Amy's not done it; and that, in short, Amy had made her coming again; that she might have known me away; and I believed it the more, because Amy better than not to believe I should have been came no more near me, but copfirmed her guilt friends with her again, and the like; and that, in by her absence. short, I had lost the best servant by rashness | Upon the whole, I mourned thus for her for that ever woman had.

above a month ; but finding Amy still not come "Well, well," says he, “if that be all your near me, and that I must put my affairs in a posgrief, I hope you will soon shake it off ; I'll ture that I might go to Holland, I opened all my Warrant you that in a little while we shall hear affairs to my dear trusty friend the Quaker, and of Mrs Amy again." And so it went off for that placed her, in matters of trust, in the room of time. But it did not go off with me; for I was Amy; and with a heavy bleeding heart for my uneasy and terrified to the last degree, and poor girl, I embarked with my spouse, and all wanted to get some further account of the thing. our equipage and goods on board another Hol

o went to my sure and certain comforter the || land trader, not a packet-boat, and went over to Quaker, and there I had the whole story about || Holland, where I arrived, as I have said. it; and the good innocent Quaker gave me joy 1 I must put in a caution, however, here, that of my being rid of such an unsufferable tor- you must not understand ine as if I let my friend mentor.

the Quaker into any part of the secret history of “Rid of her! Ay," says I, “if I was rid of || my former life ; nor did I commit the grand reher fairly and honourably; but I don't know | served article of all to her, viz., that I was really what Amy may have done. Sure she has not the girl's mother, and the lady Roxana ; there made her away?"-"Oh fie !” says my Quaker ; Il was no need of that part being exposed ; and it

was always a maxim with me, that secrets should |, so prudently managed by Amy, that nothing she never be opened without evident utility. It ever did for me, pleased me better. And in this could be no manner of use to me or her to com- Il posture, leaving my two daughters with their municate that part to her; besides, she was too l ancient friend, and so coming avray to me, (as honest herself to make it safe to me; for though they thought to the East Indies,) she had pre. she loved me sincerely, and it was plain by many pared everything in order to her going over with circumstances that she did so, yet she would not me to Holland; and in this posture that matter lie for me upon occasion, as Amy would, and stood when the unhappy girl, whom I have said so therefore it was not advisable on any terms to 1 much of, broke in upon all our measures, as you communicate that part; for if the girl, or any one I have heard, and by an obstinacy never to be else, should have come to her afterwards, and put llconquered or pacified, either with threats or par. it home to her, whether she knew that I was the suasions, pursued her search after me (ber girl's mother or not, or was the same as the lady || mother) as I have said, till she brought me eren Roxana or not, she either would not have denied to the brink of destruction, and would, in all it, or would have done it with so ill a grace, such probability, have traced me out at last, if Amy blushing, such hesitations and falterings in her had not, by the violence of her passion, and bra answers, as would have put the matter out of way which I had no knowledge of, and indeed doubt, and betray herself and the secret too. I abhorred, put a stop to her, of which I cannot

For this reason, I say, I did not discover any- l enter into the particulars here. thing of that kind to her, but I placed her, as I || However, notwithstanding this, I could not have said, in Amy's stead, in the other affairs of think of going away and leaving this work so receiving money, interests, rents, and the like, | unfinished as Amy had threatened to do, and for and she was as faithful as Amy could be, and as the folly of one child to leave the other to starre; diligent.

1 or to stop my determined bounty to the gooit But there fell out a great difficulty here, which family I have mentioned. So, in a word, I con. I knew not how to get over ; and this was how mitted the finishing it all to my good friend the to convey the usual supply or provision and Quaker, to whom I communicated as much of ! money to the uncle and the other sister, who the old story as needful to empower her to per. depended, especially the sister, upon the said || form what Amy had promised, and to make her supply for her support ; and, indeed, though | talk so much to the purpose, as one employed Amy had said rashly that she would not take any more remotely than Amy had been, needed to more notice of the sister, and would leave her to do. perish, as above, yet it was neither in my nature To this purpose, she had first of all a full pos or Amy's either, much less was it my design ; il session of the money; and went first to the honest and therefore I resolved to leave the management man and his wife, and settled all the matter with of what I had reserved for that work with my them; when she talked of Mrs Amy, she talkei faithful Quaker, but how to direct her to manage of her as one that had been empowered by the them was the great difficulty.

mother of the girls, in the Indies, but was obliged Amy had told them in so many words that she to go back to the Indies, and had settled all sooner." was not their mother, but that she was the maid if she had not been hindered by the obstinate / Amy that carried them to their aunts; that she humour of the other daughter ; that she had left and their mother went over to the East Indies | instructions with her for the rest ; but that the to seek their fortune, and that there good things other had affronted her so much, that she was, had befallen them; and that their mother was gone away without doing anything for her; and very rich and happy; that she (Amy) had || that now, if anything was done, it must be by married in the Indies, but being now a widow, || fresh orders from the East Indies. and resolving to come over to England, their l I need not say how punctually my new agent mother had obliged her to inquire them out, and acted; but what was more, she brought the old do for them as she had done; and that now she man and his wife, and my other daughter, sereral. was resolved to go back to the Indies again; but times to her house, by which I had an oppor. that she had orders to do very handsomely by tunity, being there only as a lodger, and a stranger, them; and, in a word, told them she had 2,0001. to see my other girl, which I had never done a piece for them, upon condition that they proved before since she was a little child. sober, and married suitably to themselves, and The day I contrived to see them, I was dressed did not throw themselves away upon scoundrels. || up in a Quaker's habit, and looked so like a

The good family in whose care they had been | Quaker, that it was impossible for them, who I had resolved to take more than ordinary notice had never seen me before, to suppose that I had of; and Amy, by my order, had acquainted them ever been anything else ; also my way of talking with it, and obliged my daughters to promise to was suitable enough to it, for I had learned that submit to their government, as formerly, and to long before. be ruled by the honest man as by a father and I have not time here to take notice what a surcounselior ; and engaged him to treat them as I prise it was to me to see my child, how it worked his children ; and to oblige him effectually to take upon my affections; with what infinite struggle I care of them, and to make his old age comfortable mastered a strong inclination that I had to disboth to him and his wife, who had been so good cover myself to her; how the girl was the very to the orphans, I had ordered her to settle the counterpart of myself, only much handsomer ; other 2,0001., that is to say, the interest of it, I and how sweetly and modestly she behaved; hos : which was 1201. a-year, upon them, to be theirs on that occasion I resolved to do more for her, for both their lives; but to come to my two than I had appointed by Amy, and the like. daughters after them. This was so just, and was!! It is enough to mention here, that as the set

tling this affair made way for my going on board, pected it, yet she was really sorry to hear that we notwithstanding the absence of my old agent had come to a full determination; she said abund. Amy; so however, I left some hints for Amy too, ance of fine things to me on the happiness of the for I did not yet despair of my hearing from her; life I did then, and was going to live ; believing, and that if my good Quaker should ever see her i I suppose, that a countess could not have a foul again, she should let her see them; wherein par. conscience; but at that very instant I would ticularly ordering her to leave the affair of Spital have, had it been in my power, resigned husband, fields just as I had done, in the hands of my l estate, title, and all the blessings she fancied I friend, she should come away to me, upon this had in the world, only for her real virtue, and the condition nevertheless, that she gave full satis sweet peace of mind, joined to a loving company faction to my friend the Quaker, that she had not || of children, which she really possessed. murdered my child; for if she had, I told her, I When my husband returned, he asked me at never would see her face more. How, notwith- / dinner if I persevered in my resolution of leaving standing this, she came over afterwards, without England; to which I answered in the affirmative : giving my friend any of that satisfaction, or any “ Well,” says he, “as all my affairs will not take account that she intended to come over.

up a week's time to settle, I will be ready to go I can say no more now, but that being arrived from London with you in ten days' time. We in Holland, with my spouse and his son, formerly | fixed upon no particular place or abode, but in mentioned, I appeared there with all the splen Il general concluded to go to Dover, cross the dour and equipage suitable to our new prospect, | Channel to Calais, and proceed from thence by as I have already observed.

| easy journeys to Paris, where, after staying about Here, after some few years of flourishing and out Il a week, we intended to go through part of wardly happy circumstances, I fell into a dreadful | France, the Austrian Netherlands, and so on to course of calamities, and Amy also; the very re Amsterdam, Rotterdam, or the Hague, as we verse of our former good days; the blast of heaven were to settle before we went from Paris. As seemed to follow the injury done the poor girl by // my husband did not care to venture all our for.

and I was brought so low again, that my || tune in one bottom, so our goods, money, and repentance seemed to be the only consequence of || plate were consigned to several merchants, who my misery, as my misery was of my crime. had been his intimates many years, and he took

In resolving to go to Holland with my hus. | notes of a prodigious value in his pocket, besides band, and take possession of the title of countess what he gave me to take care of during our jouras soon as possible, I had a view of deceiving my | ney. The last thing to be considered was, how daughter, were she yet alive, and seeking me out; || we should go ourselves, and what equipage we for it seldom happens that a nobleman, or his should take with us; my thoughts were wholly lady, are called by their surnames, and as she was | taken up about it some time; I knew I was going a stranger to our noble title, might have inquired || to be a countess, and did not care to appear anyat our next door neighbour's for Mr *****, the thing mean before I came to that honour; but

merchant, and not have been one jot the || on the other hand, if I left London in any public wiser for her inquiry; so one evening, soon after 1 way, I might possibly hear of inquiries alter me this resolution, as I and my husband were sitting ll on the road, that I had been acquainted with betogether when supper was over, and talking of seve- || fore. At last I said, we would discharge all our ral various scenes in life, I told him that, as there | servants, except two footmen who should travel was no likelihood of my being with child, as I had | with us to Dover, and one maid to wait on me, some reason to suspect I was some time before, Il that had lived with me only since the retreat of I was ready to go with him to any part of the || Amy, and she was to go through, if she was wilworld, whenever he pleased; I said, that great || ling; and as to the carriage of us, a coach should part of my things were packed up, and what was l be hired for my husband, myself, and maid, and not would not be long about, and that I had little two horses were to be hired for the footmen, who occasion to buy any more clothes, linen, or jewels, were to return with them to London. whilst I was in England, having a large quantity When the Quaker had heard when and how we of the richest and best of everything by me al- ||

| intended to go, she begged, as there would be a ready. On saying these words, he took me in spare seat in the coach, to accompany us as far his arms, and told me that he looked on what I as Dover, which we both readily consented to; had now spoken with so great an emphasis to be no woman could be a better companion, neither my settled resolution, and the fault should not lie was there any acquaintance that we loved better, on his side if it miscarried being put in practice. or could show more respect to us.

The next morning he went out to see some The morning before we set out my husband merchants, who had received advice of the ar- ! sent for a master coachman to know the price of rival of some shipping which had been in great Il a handsome coach, with six able horses, to go to danger at sea, and whose insurance had ran Dover; he inquired how many days we intended very high; and it was this interval that gave ll to be on the journey: my husband said he would me an opportunity of my coming to a final reso go but very easy, and chose to be three days on lution; I now told the Quaker, as she was sitting the road ; that they should stay there two days, at work in her parlour, that we should very and be three more returning to London, with a speedily leave her, and although she daily ex gentlewoman (meaning the Quaker) in it; the • The work, as originally published by De Foo in 1724,

coachman said it would be an eight day's jour. ends in this manner. The continuation of Roxana's life, ney, and he would have ten gaineas for it. My which follows, was first printed in 1745, with a long ex husband consented to pay him his demand, and planation as to the author. It is impossible at this distance of time to say by whom it was written, but the style

he received orders to be ready at the door by seven certainly bears a strong resemblance to that of De Foe.

ll of the clock the next morning: I was quite prepared


to go, having no person to take leave of but the watch coming from our lodgings in the Minories! Quaker, and she had desired to see us take the || No, no, it is not London, it is some other place ** packet-boat at Dover, before we parted with 1 Upon which one of the gentlemen present her; and the last night of my stay in London offered to convince me that the place I saw was was spent very agreeably with the Quaker and London, if I would go up to the top of the house, her fainily. My husband, who staid out later than and view it from tne turret. I accepted the usual, in taking his farewell of several merchants offer, and I, my husband, and the three gentie. of his acquaintance, came home about eleven men, were conducted, by the master of the bouse, o'clock, and drank a glass or two of wine with up stairs into the turret. If I was delighted be. us before we went to bed.

fore with my prospect, I was now ravished, for The next morning the whole family got up || I was elevated above the room I was in before, about five o'clock, and I, with my husband's con- || upwards of thirty feet. I seemed a little dizzy, sent, made each of the Quaker's daughters a pre- || for the turret being a lanthorn and giving light sent of a diamond ring, valued at 201., and a all ways, for some time I thought myself suspended guinea a-piece to all the servants, without excep- || in the air; but sitting down, and having eat a tion. We all breakfasted together, and at the mouthful of biscuit and drank a glass of sack, I hour appointed the coach and attendants came soon recovered, and then the gentleman wbo had to the door ; this drew several people about it, who undertaken to convince me that the place I was were all very inquisitive to know who was going shown was really London, thus began, after hav. into the country, and what is never forgot on || ing drawn aşide one of the windows. such occasions, all the beggars in the neighbour * You see, my lady," says the gentleman, “the hood were prepared to give us their benedictions greatest, the finest, the richest, and the most in hopes of an alms. When the coachman had | populous city in the world, at least in Europe, packed up what boxes were designed for our use, I can assure your ladyship, upon my own knowwe, pamely, my husband, the Quaker, myself, and || ledge, it deserves the character I have given it." the waiting-maid, all got into the coach, the foot || “ But this, sir, will never convince me that the men were mounted on horses behind, and in this place you now show me is London, though !! manner the coach, after I had given a guinea to have before heard that London deserves the l. one of the Quaker's daughters equally to divide |character you have with so inuch cordiality bee ! among the beggars at the door, drove away from stowed upon it. And this I can testily, that the house, and I took leave of my lodging in the London, in every particular you have mentioned. || Minories, as well as of London.

greatly surpasses Paris, which is allowed by all At St George's church, Southwark, we were historians and travellers to be the second city in met by three gentlemen on horseback, who were | Europe." merchants of my husband's acquaintance, and here the gentleman, pulling out his pocket. had come out on purpose to go half a day's jour- 1 glass, desired me to look through it, which I did; ney with us, and as they kept talking to us at the and then he directed me to look full at St Paul's, coach side, we went a good pace, and were very and to make that the centre of my future obsermerry together; we stopped at the best house of vation, and thereupon he promised me con entertainment on Shooter's hill.

viction, Here we stopped for about an hour and drank Whilst I took my observation, I sat in a high some wine. And my husband, whose chief study chair, made for that purpose, with a convenience was how to please and divert me, caused me to before you to hold the glass. I soon found the alight out of the coach. Which the gentlemen cathedral; and then I could not help saying, I who accompanied us observing, alighted also ; || have been several times up to the stone gallery, the waiter showed us up stairs into a large room, but not quite so often up to the iron gallery. whose window opened to our view a fine prospect Then I brought my eye to the monument, and of the River Thames, which here, they say, forms was obliged to conless I knew it to be such. one of the most beautiful meanders. It was The gentleman then moved the glass, and de. within an hour of high water, and such a num- / sired me to look, which doing, I said, “I think I ber of ships coming in under sail quite astonished || see Whitehall and St James's Park, and I see as well as delighted me, insomuch that I could also two great buildings, like barns, but I do not not help breaking out into such like expressions, | know what they are.” “Oh," says the gentle. - My dear, what a fine sight this is; I never saw man, " they are the Parliament house and Westthe like before! Pray, will they get to London minster Abbey."-" They may be so," saidl; and this tide ? At which the good-natured gentle. continuing looking, I perceived the very bouse at man smiled, and said, “ Yes, my dear, why there Kensington which I had lived in some time; is London, and as the wind is quite fair for them, but of that I took no notice ; yet I found my some of them will come to an anchor in about colour come, to think what a life of gaiety and half an hour, and all within an hour."

wickedness I had lived. The gentleman, perI was so taken up with looking down the river, ll ceiving my disorder, said, “1 arn afraid I hapa that, till my husband spoke, I had not once looked tired your ladyship; I will make but one remore up the river; but when I did, and saw London, l more easterly, and then I believe you will allow the Monument, the Cathedral Church of St Paul, l the place we see to be London, and the steeples belonging to the several parish He might have saved himself the trouble, for churches, I was transported into an ecstasy, and I was thoroughly convinced of my error; but to could not refrain from saying, “Sure that cannot give myself time to recover, and to hide my obbe the place we are now just come from ! it must fusion, I seemed not yet to be quite convinced, be further off, for that looks to be scarce three | I looked, and the first object that presented isil miles off, and we have been three hours by my was Aldgate church, which, though I confess, to

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