Nothing, of any importance, occurred to me, while in the Foundling; I was free from care, and a stranger to sorrow. A good table provided daily; a kind master, who was a God-fearing man, and studied the welfare of the children; the schoolmistresses and nurses were all as affectionate as mothers, and the worthy governors took every care of the comfort of the Establishment. Many poor children have their worst times in infancy, and their juvenile days; but mine were the best: I was particularly marked, by all, as a favorite, and allowed little privileges, which others had not; and when the master bought playthings for the boys, he generally gave me a book, knowing that my heart was set upon that alone; but this little Paradise must be exchanged for a wilderness of sorrow, sin, and woe. It was customary, in those days, that any respectable person might chose an apprentice out of the hospital, at any age, as no premium was given with them. Formerly, I believe, there was a premium, till the days of the execrable and infamous Mrs. Brownrigge, who was executed for her cruelty to some poor girls, she had out of this place, and from the parish. I suppose the hospital being crowded, the governors were the more willing to let children go out at a very early period, to persons who engaged to take care of them. I was chose out of the rest, as we stood in a row; the master recommended me for temper and conduct, believing the person who came to choose an apprentice was very respectable, and in about three weeks after, my new master came tor me. I was but ten years and a half old; of course, I was bound an apprentice for nearly eleven years; this was a long time to look for. All that knew me in the hospital, were sorry at my departure. I trudged through the streets, and chattered with my new master, till I arrived at his house, in Great Portland Street, Mary-le-bone. I know not how to express what a singular sensation came over me when I entered his house; a dizzines, or rather a darkness overwhelmed me, that all appeared dark about me; no doubt, this was but the native weakness of the nerves; or, if it was, as I am at times induced to think, a supernatural sensation surely it was an indication of the dark days I should now begin to feel. Never shall I forget the grief that overcame me, the few first nights I wept aloud, I had left all that was dear to me; I was among strangers; I felt, indeed, like a deserted, a banished child: but the hand of time wiped away my grief, and a variety of new scenes began to open to my view. I am sure, my dear friend will smile, when she can picture to herself how strange the streets appeared to me, the shops, pictures, books, and names of persons over the doors; these I used to gaze at, and rehearse when I came home, which afforded much mirth to the family. There was one great evil attended my early departure from the Foundling; I had not attained to the