remind the spectator of her friendless condition; and yet that
epithet was surely misapplied in this case. This being was
cherished by those with whom she now resided, with unspeakable
fondness. Every exertion was made to enlarge and improve her
mind. Her safety was the object of a solicitude that almost
exceeded the bounds of discretion. Our affection indeed could
scarcely transcend her merits. She never met my eye, or
occurred to my reflections, without exciting a kind of
enthusiasm. Her softness, her intelligence, her equanimity,
never shall I see surpassed. I have often shed tears of
pleasure at her approach, and pressed her to my bosom in an
agony of fondness.

While every day was adding to the charms of her person, and
the stores of her mind, there occurred an event which threatened
to deprive us of her. An officer of some rank, who had been
disabled by a wound at Quebec, had employed himself, since the
ratification of peace, in travelling through the colonies. He
remained a considerable period at Philadelphia, but was at last
preparing for his departure. No one had been more frequently
honoured with his visits than Mrs. Baynton, a worthy lady with
whom our family were intimate. He went to her house with a view
to perform a farewell visit, and was on the point of taking his
leave, when I and my young friend entered the apartment. It is
impossible to describe the emotions of the stranger, when he
fixed his eyes upon my companion. He was motionless with
surprise. He was unable to conceal his feelings, but sat
silently gazing at the spectacle before him. At length he
turned to Mrs. Baynton, and more by his looks and gestures than
by words, besought her for an explanation of the scene. He