attempt to see her; that, after treating me as she had done, she never would see me more; and that, if I persisted in pursuing her, she would leave the city, and, taking with her her miserable children, they would all perish together, for she would, rather than meet my eye, suffer a thousand deaths. I was beyond measure shocked at this letter; I saw the absolute necessity of seeing and convincing her of her error; but how was this to be effectuated? I could devise no plan. I told the old woman, it was a most capital mistake; that I was not the person she supposed. O, said she, you need say nothing about that, sir; every body knows you are her husband, and every body pities you, poor gentleman, that you should have such a wife; but she has bad advisers, and I dare say, if you can see her and forgive her, (and every body says, if you did not intend to do so, you would never have sought her,) she will again be a very good woman. I was provoked beyond endurance; but every appearance of irritation was imputed to my disappointment, and consequent resentment. My soul was harrowed up by agonizing distress; unable to convince the old woman, I returned to my lodgings. My friends perceived the anguish of my spirit, for which they were well able to account; they, however, carefully avoided the subject. At last, not being able to control my emotions, I burst into tears. They were alarmed. "What is the matter?" I circumstantially related the whole story, and dwelt upon my sufferings, consequent upon my inability to see Mrs. Trinbath, and convince her of her mistake. My friends appeared relieved, and proposed my writing to her, and leaving my letter at her lodgings; she will see it is not the hand-writing of her husband. The propriety of this measure was obvious; I asked the gentleman, if he would accompany me? "Most gladly." I wrote immediately, labouring to convince this unfortunate woman of her error, and assuring her, that my friend, Mr. Trinbath, had been many years dead; that if she would but give me a meeting, for a single moment, she would acknowledge, she had nothing to fear from me. This letter was ineffectual; she was positive it was all a deception, and that, with a view of deceiving her, I had employed some other pen.
This story was a sweet morsel to my religious foes. It was painted in the most odious colours, and industriously exhibited. They declared, the woman was unquestionably my wife; and that, on account of the treatment she had received from her barbarous husband, she had preferred putting herself under the protection of a commom soldier; that she had attended church, upon a lecture evening, and upon seeing me, her husband, in the pulpit, she had shrieked aloud, and fainted. This,
