let you know that I am ſorry for what I have done; you died, thinking me ungrateful; and lamenting that I did not die when you gave me ſuck. I ſhall never—oh! never ſee you more.
This thought, and her peeviſh temper, preyed on her impaired conſtitution. She had not, by doing good, prepared her ſoul for another ſtate, or cheriſhed any hopes that could disarm death of its terrors, or render that laſt ſleep ſweet—its approach was dreadful!—and ſhe haſtened her end, ſcolding the phyſician for not curing her. Her lifeleſs countenance diſplayed the marks of convulſive anger; and ſhe left an ample fortune behind her to thoſe who did not regret her loſs. They followed her to the grave, on which no one ſhed a tear. She was ſoon forgotten; and I only remember her, to warn you to ſhun her errors.
