Our little company, as soon as the morning school-hours were over,
hastened to their arbour, and were attentive to what Miss Jenny Peace
should propose to them for their amusement till dinner-time; when Miss
Jenny, looking round upon them, said, ‘that she had not at present any
story to read; but that she hoped, from Miss Dolly Friendly’s example
yesterday, some of the rest might endeavour sometimes to furnish out
the entertainment of the day.’ Upon which Miss Sukey Jennett said,
‘that though she could not promise them such an agreeable story as Miss
Dolly’s; yet she would read them a letter she had received the evening
before from her Cousin Peggy Smith, who lived at York; in which there
was a story that she thought very strange and remarkable. They were all
very desirous of it, when Miss Sukey read as follows:
‘Dear cousin,--I promised, you know, to write to you when I had anything
to tell you; and as I think the following story very extraordinary, I
was willing to keep my word.
‘Some time ago there came to settle in this city, a lady, whose name was
Dison. We all visited her: but she had so deep a melancholy, arising, as
it appeared, from a settled state of ill health, that nothing we could
do could afford her the least relief, or make her cheerful. In this
condition she languished amongst us five years, still continuing to grow
worse and worse.
‘We all grieved at her fate. Her flesh was withered away; her appetite
decayed by degrees, till all food became nauseous to her sight; her
strength failed her; her feet could not support her tottering body,
lean and worn away as it was; and we hourly expected her death. When, at
last, she one day called her most intimate friends to her bedside, and,
as well as she could, spoke to the following purpose: “I know you all
pity me; but, alas! I am not so much the object of your pity, as your
contempt; for all my misery is of my own seeking, and owing to the
wickedness of my own mind. I had two sisters, with whom I was bred up;
and I have all my lifetime been unhappy, for no other cause but for
their success in the world. When we were young, I could neither eat nor
sleep in peace, when they had either praise or pleasure. When we grew
up to be women, they were both soon married much to their advantage and
satisfaction. This galled me to the heart; and, though I had several
good offers, yet as I did not think them in all respects equal to my
sisters, I would not accept them; and yet was inwardly vexed to refuse
them, for fear I would get no better. I generally deliberated so long
that I lost my lovers, and then I pined for that loss. I never wanted
for anything; and was in a situation in which I might have been happy,
if I pleased. My sisters loved me very well, for I concealed as much
as possible from them my odious envy; and yet never did any poor wretch
lead so miserable a life as I have done; for every blessing they enjoyed
was as so many daggers to my heart. ‘Tis this envy that has caused all
my ill health, has preyed upon my very vitals, and will now bring me to
my Grave.”
‘In a few days after this confession she died; and her words and death
made such a strong impression on my mind, that I could not help sending
you this relation; and begging you, my dear Sukey, to remember how
careful we ought to be to curb in our minds the very first risings of a
passion so detestable, and so fatal, as this proved to poor Mrs. Dison.
I know I have no particular reason for giving you this caution; for I
never saw anything in you, but what deserved the love and esteem of
‘Your very affectionate cousin,
‘M. SMITH.’
As soon as Miss Sukey had finished her letter, Miss Patty Lockit rose
up, and, flying to Miss Jenny Peace, embraced her, and said, ‘What
thanks can I give you, my dear friend, for having put me into a way of
examining my heart, and reflecting on my own actions; by which you have
saved me, perhaps, from a life as miserable as that of the poor woman
in Miss Sukey’s letter!’ Miss Jenny did not thoroughly understand her
meaning; but imagining it might be something relating to her past life,
desired her to explain herself; which she said she would do, telling
now, in her turn, all that had hitherto happened to her.