It is only remarkable men who are privileged to write their own histories; no doubt there are conceited persons who take upon them to do the same thing, but the world has little respect for such vanity. For my part, it would have been far from my heart to have thought of inditing this book, had I not discerned in the accidents of my life something that will be accounted extraordinary, to say nothing of the manner in which I have been guided; itself a demonstration that Providence had a purpose for me—whether in the way of example, or as an agent, is not for me to determine. This much, however, I may affirm, that from the first hour I had a right notion of the condition of man, I felt myself to be a something that was deemed deserving of special care and preservation, and what I have now to relate bears witness to the fact.

Close behind my house and store stood a large soap and candle manufactory, at which I never looked without receiving an intimation that it was ordained to be consumed by fire. This remarkable presentiment became at last so assured to me of fulfilment, that I spoke of it as I would do of any intent or business which must be performed. For months before the catastrophe came to pass, when the fire company, on the first Monday of every month, came to wash and clean their engine, at the pump near the corner of Liberty and Nassau Street, I often jocosely told them how I wished they would act when the candle-box, as I called the soapery, should take fire; and so persuaded was I of the sentence that had been passed upon it, that I insured my property. I had at the time a large stock on hand of early cabbage-seed lying open in the store: it had been imported; but the long embargo being then laid on, rendered it doubtful when, if any accident happened, I should be able to get another supply.