During several days, I so much engaged myself with the business of the store, taking an inventory of the goods, laying aside such as were to be left for John Waft, and packing up those to be removed to the new establishment at Judiville, that my mind became in some degree estranged from grief.

Indeed, it is proper to note here, that, although at the time the anguish of my heart was very intense, I cannot now recall, on many points, such distinct recollections as to justify me in attempting a narrative so particular as the one I had originally intended to make. This is partly, no doubt, owing to the circumstance of writing it after the issue of events had determined their true nature; when things which, in their prospective estimate, seemed gloomy and disheartening, have proved happy in their consummation.

How can one who is esteemed fortunate, look back on the vicissitudes of fortune which he may have experienced, with the emotions he felt when the eclipse was passing over the sun? This consideration should excuse to the courteous reader any defect in feeling or inconsistency which may seem to mar the propriety of my story. I am like the sailor, with can in hand, describing the perils of his voyages, and the dark nights of danger he has passed on unknown shores. I think lightly now of accidents which, at the time of their coming to pass, bruised my heart; and I see cause almost for laughter in disasters which, when beheld in their first aspect, threatened terrible things.

I well recollect an accident that fell out at the period of which I am treating; it then gave me a deal of vexation, but it can no longer be thought of with gravity.

On one of those days when I was busy in the store, arranging every thing for the flitting to Judiville, like a man of business and an honest man, my evil genius, John Waft, came to see me. It was his first visit after I had received the calamitous news of my son; and I but do him justice when I repeat that for some time his conduct was pleasant and Christian.