Should I attempt to write any more, I could not change the ſtrain. My head aches, and my heart is heavy. The world appears an "unweeded garden," where "things rank and vile" flouriſh beſt.
If you do not return ſoon—or, which is no ſuch mighty matter, talk of it—I will throw your ſlippers out at window, and be off—nobody knows where.
* * * *
Finding that I was obſerved, I told the good women, the two Mrs. ——s, ſimply that I was with child: and let them ſtare! and ———, and ———, nay, all the world, may know it for aught I care!—Yet I wiſh to avoid ———'s coarſe jokes.
Conſidering the care and anxiety a woman muſt have about a child before it comes into the world, it ſeems to me, by a natural right, to belong to her. When men get immerſed in the world, they ſeem to loſe all ſenſations, excepting thoſe neceſſary to continue or produce life!—Are theſe the privileges of reaſon? Amongſt the feathered race, whilſt the hen keeps the young warm, her mate ſtays by to cheer her; but it is ſufficient for man to condeſcend to get a child, in order to claim it.—A man is a tyrant!
You may now tell me, that, if it were not for me, you would be laughing away with ſome honeſt fellows in L—n. The caſual exerciſe of ſocial ſympathy would not be ſufficient for me—I ſhould not think ſuch an heartleſs life worth preſerving.—It is neceſſary to be in good-humour with you, to be pleaſed with the world.
Thurſday Morning.
I was very low-ſpirited laſt night, ready to quarrel with your cheerful temper, which makes abſence eaſy to you.—And, why ſhould I mince the the matter? I was offended at your not even mentioning it.—I do not want to be loved like a goddeſs; but I wiſh to be neceſſary to you. God bleſs you[27-A]!