LETTER I.

Dear Father and Mother,

I have great Trouble, and some Comfort, to acquaint you with. The Trouble is, that my good Lady died of the Illness I mention’d to you, and left us all much griev’d for her Loss; for she was a dear good Lady, and kind to all us her Servants. Much I fear’d, that as I was taken by her Goodness to wait upon her Person, I should be quite destitute again, and forc’d to return to you and my poor Mother, who have so much to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my Lady's Goodness had put me to write and cast Accompts,1 and made me a little expert at my Needle, and other Qualifications above my Degree, it would have been no easy Matter to find a Place that your poor Pamela was fit for: But God, whose Graciousness to us we have so often experienc’d at a Pinch, put it into my good Lady's Heart, on her Deathbed, just an Hour before she expir’d, to recommend to my young Master all her Servants, one by one; and when it came to my Turn to be recommended, for I was sobbing and crying at her Pillow, she could only say, My dear Son!—and so broke off a little, and then recovering—Remember my poor Pamela!—And these were some of her last Words ! O how my Eyesrun!—Don't wonder to see the Paper so blotted!

Well, but God's Will must be done!—and so comes the Comfort, that I shall not be oblig’d to return back to be a Clog upon my dear Parents! For my Master said, I will take care of you all, my Lasses; and for you, Pamela, (and took me by the Hand; yes, he took me by the Hand before them all) for my dear Mother's sake, I will be a Friend to you, and you shall take care of my Linen.