but for a moment, and see if the family are sitting up for you; for to knock at the door and be refused admittance would ruin your reputation in the opinion of all the neighbourhood." I still insisted upon going home, and a coach was accordingly called and procured; but instead of carrying me to my friends, it stopped at a house in another street. Here I was forced against my will to alight. The mistress of it was up; a circumstance which I should have wondered at, if I had not been frightened almost to death, and incapable of thinking, speaking, or knowing what I did.

The wretch, after having apologized to the lady for the distress he had brought me into, left me in great haste, to bring me intelligence of what was doing at home. He returned in a short time, and with the greatest seeming concern in his countenance, told me, that he had learned from one of the servants, that the family had supped at home; that they were exasperated against me beyond forgiveness; that they concluded me undone; and that they had sworn never to admit me into their doors again,

I was quite thunder-struck at this intelligence, and accused the wretch who brought it me as the vilest of men. He fell upon his knees, conjuring me not to think him capable of any design in what was done, and vowing to sacrifice his life and fortune to reinstate me in the good opinion of my friends. I was obliged now to put myself under his protection; but refused going to bed, though pressed to it by the lady of the house, who called herself his relation. Early in the morning, taking the lady along with him, he pretended to go again to my friends; but returned to me with an account that they were quite outrageous against me, and absolutely determined never to see me again. I wrote to them in the most moving manner that my heart could indite, and gave the letter to

the care of this false friend. I wrote also to my parents, letter after letter, but without receiving a syllable from them in return; so that I now looked upon myself as completely undone. The anxiety I suffered threw me into a fever, during which time the wretch hardly ever stirred from my bed-side, vowing that his life depended upon my recovery. I was soon indeed restored to my health, but never to my peace. My betrayer began now to talk to me of love; and I began foolishly to regard him as one that had suffered too much for what I could not impute to him as a crime. He saw, and took care hourly to improve, my too favourable opinion of him; and at length (for why should I dwell minutely on what I wish for ever to forget?) by a thousand stratagems on his side, and by fatal inclination on my own, irrecoverably undid me.

From that very day his affection began to cool: and (will it be believed when I tell it?) grew in a very little time to hate me to that degree, that in order to get rid of me, and to make our separation my own act, he confessed to me the whole scheme he had laid to get me; shewed me advertisements in the papers from my friends and parents, offering rewards for my discovery; and returned me the letters I had written to them, every one of which he had detained.

I stood astonished at his villany, and abhorred him in my soul. But alas! it was now too late for me to apply to friends. Ruminating one afternoon on my deplorable condition, I was surprized at seeing an elderly lady enter my chamber. She made me an apology for her visit, and very frankly told me, that from distant hints which she had that day received from the mistress of the house, she apprehended I was fallen into bad hands; which, if true, she would be glad to assist me to the utmost of her power. She spoke this with so much affection and good-nature, that I made

no scruple of telling her my whole story, which so extremely affected her, that she shed tears while I spoke, and often interrupted me with her exclamations against the villany of men. At the conclusion, she offered that moment to take me away, assuring me that her house, her purse, and her sincerest friendship should always be mine. I would have fallen on my knees to thank her, but she prevented me; and ordering a coach to be called, she conveyed me that very evening to her country-house.

I stayed there a week, and met with the most kind and tender treatment from her. She compelled me to accept of some changes of cloaths and linen, and then brought me to her house in town; where, in less than four-and-twenty hours, she told me, without the least ceremony, that I no doubt, knew for what purpose she had taken me, and that as I could have no pretensions to modesty, she hoped my behaviour would be such as should give her no occasion to repent of her kindness to me. I desired to understand her, and was informed (though not in plain words) that my benefactress was a bawd, and that she had taken me into her family for the most infamous of purposes. I trembled with amazement, and insisted on leaving the house that instant. She told me, I was at full liberty to do so; but that first I must pay her for my lodging and cloaths. She spoke this with great ease and carelessness, and then left me to myself. I ran down stairs with precipitation; but alas! scarce was I out of the street before I was stopt and brought back by a bailiff who had a writ against me. I requested that I might have leave to write to the gentleman from whom I had been taken: for bad as he was, I said, he would not utterly desert me. I was permitted to write as I desired; and the wretch indeed answered my letter; but it was only to tell me that as I had thought proper to run away from him,

he should have nothing farther to say to me; and that, in short, I must either submit to conditions, or go immediately with the bailiff. Frightened at the horrors of a prison, and hoping that my story might move compassion in those to whom I was to be introduced, I consented to do as they would have me; but alas, sir! I was mistaken; they listened indeed to my story; but instead of melting at my misfortunes, they adored me, they said, for my invention. At length having led the life of a prostitute for more than a month, I attempted to make a second escape, and to fly to the hands of justice for protection: but I was again caught and carried to a spunging-house; where, after remaining two days, a gentleman who had been admitted to me at that vile woman's, came to see me in my confinement, paid off the debt for which I was arrested, and took me to be his mistress.

But though the life I now lead is in some degree more supportable than that which I have escaped from, yet to one who hopes that she has still some remains of principle left, it is terrible and shocking. My friends know what I am, and what I have been, but they reject and hate me : and I have not the least glimmering of hope ever to recover from the situation I am in, unless my story should merit the compassion of him to whom I now send it, and find a place in THE WORLD. Vile as I am, I would be otherwise if I might. I am not old in wickedness, though I have gone such lengths in it; being now really and truly but just turned of eighteen, and having left my father's house no more than fifteen months ago, two of which months I have lived in innocence and reputation with the most worthy of families.

As to him who has brought upon me all this weight of misery, and who serenely and unconcernedly can reflect upon what he has done (for so I am sure he does) I have nothing to fear, and nothing to hope. I

can therefore have but one inducement to desire your publication of this letter, which is, that my friends may know that I have gained that credit with a stranger which they have refused to give me, and that I am really and truly an object of compassion.

I am, sir,

(though lost to myself)

Your most faithful humble servant.

No. XCVIII. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14.

IT gives me great pleasure that I am able in this day's paper to congratulate the polite part of my fellow-subjects of both sexes, upon the splendid revival of that most rational entertainment, an Italian opera. Of late years it had seemed to sicken, so that I greatly feared that the unsuccessful efforts which it made from time to time, were its convulsive

and expiring pangs. But it now appears, and indeed much to the honour of this country, that we have still too many protectors and protectresses of the liberal arts, to suffer that of music, the most liberal of them all, to sink for want of due encouragement.

I am sensible that Italian operas have frequently been the objects of the ridicule of many of our greatest wits; and, viewed in one light only, perhaps not without some reason. But as I consider all public diversions singly with regard to the effects, which they may have upon the morals and manners of the public, I confess I respect the Italian operas, as the most in

nocent of

any.