had skill enough to pull out the thorn, and our hands trembled at the very approaching her.
"We therefore dispatched a messenger with the utmost speed to fetch a surgeon: when he arrived, and had pulled out the thorn; I, who observed his looks, saw he shook his head, and seemed to fear some terrible consequence. My mother, who had a resolution not to be staggered by any event, begged of him to let her know the worst of his thoughts, for she saw he apprehended something very bad. The surgeon said, indeed he had great reason to fear, that nothing but the immediate loss of her foot could save her life. At first she said, she had much rather die; but on my father's persuasions (in whose power it was to bring her to anything) she consented: but the operation threw her into agonies, which caused so high a fever, as could not be got the better of by all the means that were used. She kept her senses to the last: my father and I never left her, but sat by her bedside as long as she had any signs of life. As she knew our sufferings, and that losing her was as much as we were able to bear, she avoided saying anything tender, lest she should add to our sorrows; but in her looks we read what any one, who had less consideration, and yet had a mind capable of feeling, would have said. We saw her struggling with herself to keep down, and prevent the utterance of what was always uppermost in her thoughts, her tenderness for her husband and children. Only one day, when I was left alone with her, she went so far as to say, 'Camilla, make it the business of your life to obey and please your father; if you should live to see him an old man, return him that care by which he has supported your infancy; cherish your brother's love. Do not remember me to afflict yourself; but only follow my example in your
