Sunday came again, Dec. 5. No one had come to see me. I was left mostly alone in the gallery. The attendant and some of the patients had gone to meeting. One of the attendants came in and talked with me; she spoke more kind to me than any one had since I come into the house. I told her my situation, and how I was a poor girl, and had from the age of 15 done for myself, and had never been sick, or any expense to the family or any other one. She seemed to express a deal of sympathy for me. She said it was a house of distress. I asked her how long she had been there; she said, I think, from six to eight years. She said she wished she had seen me when I first had been brought into that house. I then asked her if she knew that christians could be destroyed there. She seemed not inclined to express her mind freely to me, but said that she had been tried much in her feelings, to see poor christians so troubled about their religion in that house, and if their friends knew what was best for them they would not bring them there. She desired me to control my feelings as much as possible. If I did not, I should be showered. I then enquired what that meant; she then described it to me, that I should be stripped of all my clothes, and cold water poured upon me, and I should be carried on to another gallery, where the society would not be so pleasant, neither the accommodations so good. I told her that my distress was so great that it was impossible. I then asked her how she could be knowing to such a crime and not to make it known to the world, for it was worse than murdering a person in this life. She said she supposed my folks knew all about it before I was brought there, but they would not be likely to tell me, and she bid me good bye. It seemed good to have any one speak kind to me, although I had then nearly lost all idea of holiness. When she left me, I laid myself down upon the floor, and wept bitterly; I then thought I would make way with myself, for I was betrayed; my relations had at last vented their revenge upon me, and now I was an outcast forever, and never more could be happy. I was now separated forever from my loved friends. I thought of a much loved friend, Phebe Weir, who knew me before I was converted, one that I used to talk much with about my spiritual life. O, that she could but behold me.--Soon they returned from meeting, but to cease from weeping and groaning, was impossible, for every nerve in me was drawing and twinging as though they would break. Christian reader, keep in mind that the spirit of Christ was killed in me, or I could have blessed and praised God, amidst all this suffering. But this distress of body was caused by the medicine given to me, to take away the spirit of Christ. It may appear like derangement, but what I tell you is the truth. Monday, I had endeavored to keep in my room as much as possible, and to keep from groaning, though it come voluntary, for