Guide The Art of Deception (Choc Lit): A heart-warming love story

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We should grow like a tree that likewise does not know its law. We tie ourselves up with intentions, not mindful of the fact that intention is the limitation, yes, the exclusion of life. We believe that we can illuminate the darkness with an intention, and in that way aim past the light. How can we presume to want to know in advance, from where the light will come to us? If the boundaries of the self are defined by what we feel, then those who cannot feel even for themselves shrink within their own boundaries, while those who feel for others are enlarged, and those who feel compassion for all beings must be boundless.

They are not separate, not alone, not lonely, not vulnerable in the same way as those of us stranded in the islands of ourselves, but they are vulnerable in other ways. Still, that sense of the dangers of feeling for others is so compelling that many withdraw, and develop elaborate stories to justify withdrawal, and then forget that they have shrunk. Most of us do, one way or another. Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. Be an unpopular harbinger, an endangered one; a tender, firmly sprouted sentinel of the rhizome of archaic revival.

Do not take a seat. She is ready for you. The soul of the world will see you now. What have you come to give her? You are not alone because all the time there are numberless buddhas and bodhisattvas surrounding you, everywhere loving you, guiding you, that is what they do. For the more we are, the richer everything we experience is. And those who want to have a deep love in their lives must collect and save for it, and gather honey.

It gives us the myths we live by. Courage is a word that tempts us to think outwardly, to run bravely against opposing fire, to do something under besieging circumstance, and perhaps, above all, to be seen to do it in public, to show courage; to be celebrated in story, rewarded with medals, given the accolade, but a look at its linguistic origins leads us in a more interior direction and toward its original template, the old Norman French, Coeur, or heart. Courage is the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, a work, a future.

To be courageous, is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences… Whether we stay or whether we go — to be courageous is to stay close to the way we are made. My real self wanders elsewhere, far away, wanders on and on invisibly and has nothing to do with my life.

To create it, to become it and to live in it. The journey of your triumphs and setbacks are apart of the process now,stop getting ready to get ready and start living in the essence of your movements NOW. We do not have to be ashamed of what we are. As sentient beings we have wonderful backgrounds. These backgrounds may not be particularly enlightened or peaceful or intelligent. Nevertheless, we have soil good enough to cultivate; we can plant anything in it. Nature knows that people are a tide that swells and in time will ebb, and all their works dissolve … As for us: We must uncenter our minds from ourselves.

We must unhumanize our views a little and become confident as the rock and ocean that we are made from. There is in us an instinct for newness, for renewal, for a liberation of creative power. We seek to awaken in ourselves a force which really changes our lives from within. And yet the same instinct tells us that this change is a recovery of that which is deepest, most original, most personal in ourselves. Often we must go outside society to confirm that we live inside the continuum of creation.

One seeks solitude to know relatedness. The poet is an embodiment of resistance: resistance against universal apathy, mediocrity, conformity, against institutional pressures to make everything look and become alike. This is why he is so involved with contraries. Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends, I to my own heart, I to seek among phrases and fragments something unbroken — I to whom there is not beauty enough in moon or tree; to whom the touch of one person with another is all, yet who cannot grasp even that, who am so imperfect, so weak, so unspeakably lonely.

There I sat. Whatever old fights we have kept alive in our minds, our bodies carry them — and our bodies can help us let them go. We must constantly encourage ourselves and each other to attempt the heretical actions that our dreams imply, and so many of our old ideas disparage. In the forefront of our move toward change, there is only poetry to hint at possibility made real. To have access to literature, world literature, was to escape the prison of national vanity, of philistinism, of compulsory provincialism, of inane schooling, of imperfect destinies and bad luck.

Literature was the passport to enter a larger life; that is, the zone of freedom. Literature was freedom. Especially in a time in which the values of reading and inwardness are so strenuously challenged, literature is freedom. Eighty-three problems There is a story of a man who came to see the Buddha because he had heard that the Buddha was a great teacher. He had some problems in his life, and he thought the Buddha might be able to help him straighten them out. The Buddha listened patiently to the man as he laid out all his difficulties and worries, and then waited for the Buddha to say the words that would put everything right for him.

If you work really hard on one of them, maybe you can fix it — but if you do, another one will pop right into its place. I thought you could help me! You have obstacles only because you have not realized the emptiness of the eons. Genuine wayfarers are never like this; they just dissolve their history according to conditions, dressing according to circumstances, acting when they need to act, and sitting when they need to sit, without any idea of seeking the fruits of buddhahood.

They woke me up from my illusions and led me to the path of compassion. I would not trade them for anything. We lose ourselves in what we read, only to return to ourselves, transformed and part of a more expansive world. Through one word, or seven words, or three times five, even if you investigate thoroughly myriad forms, nothing can be depended upon. Night advances, the moon glows and falls into the ocean. The black dragon jewel you have been searching for, is everywhere. The truth is, going against the internal stream of ignorance is way more rebellious than trying to start some sort of cultural revolution.

Shepherd You wander mountain passes with your crook in hand a welcome spring breeze tugging your beard. The wild-self burns brightly in your eyes. At night the moon lights a hare in a ploughed field. And the breezes of heaven Were playing there too. And as you delight The hearts of plants When they stretch towards you With little strength So you delighted the heart in me Father Helios, and like Endymion I was your darling, Heavenly Luna.

Even though when I called to you then It was not yet with names, and you Never named me as people do As though they knew one another I knew you better Than I have ever known them. I understood the stillness above the sky But never the words of men. Trees were my teachers Melodious trees And I learned to love Among flowers. I grew up in the arms of the gods. My path is the path of stopping, the path of enjoying the present moment. It is the path where every step brings me back to my true home.

It is the path that leads to nowhere. I am on my way home. I arrive at every step. That is my life; that is my practice. The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. No, they whisper. You own nothing. You were a visitor, time after time climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you. You never found us. It was always the other way round. And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed. Taking responsibility comes down to that loyalty to listening, to actually dare to let that happen which is supposed to happen. That is not to say that everything is laid out, because in every moment we have the choice of love over fear, of truth over the lie.

The moment that we choose truth, then walking strongly in that truth becomes our radicality. Walking and talking are two very great pleasures, but it is a mistake to combine them. Our own noise blots out the sounds and silences of the outdoor world……. What she liked was distance. A good long view towards the sunset, or at a certain soft hour at home, towards an empty intersection, and if you got a glimpse of something more it would be the way the hills blurred off into blueness beyond the last of the flashing roofs. You would feel small then, in a way she found comforting.

The hardest thing is to keep your horizons open, to keep exploring the green growing edge. How can I motivate myself by what I love? Happy are those who know: Behind all words, the Unsayable stands; And from that source alone, the Infinite Crosses over to gladness, and us — Free of our bridges Built with the stone of distinctions; So that always, within each delight, We gaze at what is purely single and joined. If you learn to use a perfect afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned the meaning of life.

Go out in the woods, go out. Your main task is to allow your original first-born self to be manifested through you with less and less interference. We place our bet there rather than simply trying to achieve a comfortable life style. They are often deeply ingrained in our mind, our emotions, and our body. In Buddhist practice, renunciation is considered to be the important first step — creating the intention to abandon that which creates confusion and pain for our self and others.

But one thing that we can safely say is that the entire journey of meditation in this lineage is about coming to a deeper sense of what our inner voice is and what our heart is telling us, and then developing the wherewithal to act on it. Put away the book, the description, the tradition, the authority, and take the journey of self-discovery. The mind toggles back and forth between details and the big picture, minutiae and openness. I agree with William Schulz.

Which is why as a humane educator, someone dedicated to providing people with the knowledge, tools, and motivation to be conscientious choicemakers and engaged changemakers for a peaceful, just, and healthy world, bringing reverence-building and wonder-inducing activities to people — especially children who are growing up in a mediated, screen-based world — is essential.

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering. Come back to your center! Everything is just a matter of waves; learn to ride them by resting your heart-mind in its ancient ground. When you realize you are infinite you will see there is no time. The challenges of the ancient-future are solved by the richness of the ancient-past. I have phrases and whole pages memorized, but nothing can be told of Love. You must wait until you and I are living together. In our western societies we are seeing more calls for a return to native wisdom, but we cannot live by the worldview of other cultures, which are rooted in lands and histories that have little relationships to that of our own.

And yet so often we try to; we look for our spiritual practices to the East- to Taoism, for example, and to Buddhism; we look to the West for guidance on how to live in harmony with the land- to indigenous stories and traditions from the Americas. We have our own guiding stories, and they are deeply rooted in the heart of our own native landscapes…they show us what we might once have been, we women, and what we might become again if we choose. And, if we stand with our powerful and inspiring native sisters from around the planet, together we might just all have a chance.

Now, all these myths that you have heard and that resonate with you, those are the elements from round about that you are building into a form in your life. The thing worth considering is how they relate to each other in your context, not how they relate to something out there — how they were relevant on the North American prairies or in the Asian jungles hundreds of years ago, but how they are relevant now — unless by contemplating their former meaning you can begin to amplify your own understanding of the role they play in your life.

We must do all that is humanly possible to usher in a more altruistic, united and cooperative society. The desire to go home that is a desire to be whole, to know where you are, to be the point of intersection of all the lines drawn through all the stars, to be the constellation-maker and the center of the world, that center called love. To awaken from sleep, to rest from awakening, to tame the animal, to let the soul go wild, to shelter in darkness and blaze with light, to cease to speak and be perfectly understood.

Go out to the rainy woods, leaving all the weary eidolons of the spirit and your wayward thoughts at home in the warm and dry. Bring only your camera and notebook, yourself, if indeed a self you have or are. Leave that self somewhere among the earthy wetness and the old trees. Sit quietly with the drenched leaves, these birds, that flowing stream, and wait for them to speak or sing in the green and wordless language that you share. Know there are atomies vast and teeming with life in everything you see. Return home at the end of the day, yourself a leaf, a stone perhaps, or a star — kerrdelune.

Stand above the Seven Streams, letting the deep down current surface around you, then branch and branch as they do, back into the mountain, and as if you were able for that flow, say the few necessary words and walk on, broader and cleansed for having imagined. Blue Sidney Wade The great blue song of the earth is sung in all the best venues— treetop, marsh, desert, shore— and on this spring day in the wetlands where, under a late sun, we stand alone and in love with each other and the passing day we watch a cormorant whose eye is ringed in blue diamonds, a shimmering lure, and we love this blue and this dark bird and this deepening sky that pinks and hums in the west, and then the bird opens his beak and flutters his throat and the late afternoon light illuminates the inside tissue of his mouth which is as blue as his ocular jewelry, as blue as the bluest ocean, as blue as the sky in all its depth, as blue as the back of the small and determined beetle who struggles to roll his enormous dung ball in his own breeding bid to enchant another small blue miracle.

I loaf and invite my soul, I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. I started out in silence, writing as quietly as I had read, and then eventually people read some of what I had written, and some of the readers entered my world or drew me into theirs.

I started out in silence and traveled until I arrived at a voice that was heard far away —first the silent voice that can only be read, and then I was asked to speak aloud and to read aloud. When I began to read aloud, another voice, one I hardly recognized, emerged from my mouth. You have an intimacy with the faraway and distance from the near at hand. Like digging a hole to China and actually coming out the other side, the depth of that solitude of reading and then writing took me all the way through to connect with people again in an unexpected way.

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It was astonishing wealth for one who had once been so poor. Abiding faith does not depend on borrowed concepts. Rather, it is the magnetic force of a bone-deep, lived understanding, one that draws us to realize our ideals, walk our talk,and act in accord with what we know to be true. There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, others are far too deep for that. It can grow as slow as a diamond if it is lost. This love should only be offered to someone who has the valor and daring to cut pieces of their soul off with a knife and then weave them into a blanket to protect you.

There are different wells within us. Some fill with each good rain, others are far, far too deep for that. All of my favorite friends Are the people who move In and out They derail They derailed The mind is not the rational It is the irrational It is the irrational That is worth living for You think that knowledge is ordered But you are sadly wrong Knowledge is the divine Unordered thing — Dorothea Lasky. To begin to understand the gorgeous fever that is consciousness, we must try to understand the senses — how they evolved, how they can be extended, what their limits are, to which ones we have attached taboos, and what they can teach us about the ravishing world we have the privilege to inhabit.

The most valuable work we do — opening the heart, celebrating the present with our devoted attention to it, expressing our love in action, answering the world as it summons our help — none of this valuable work actually solves anything, really. What it does, rather, is to heal our disconnections — our scar tissue against the world — in order that our entire being might attune to its living mystery; for that attunement, when it happens, nourishes both being and world.

Life wounds us, often when we least expect it, and scar tissue builds up — but the heartaches that we face are at the same time revelations of our deepest loves: our love of life: our love of shared moments with others; our love of the sky and the green green earth. It is only love that makes heartache possible; heartache in its way is a resounding and unforgettable affirmation of our love. In this way, it might ultimately serve as our deepest attunement.

We should use our opinions to start discussions, not to end them. Funny to complain about silence when one has aspired to it for so long. The impulse to create begins — often terribly and fearfully — in a tunnel of silence. Every real poem is the breaking of an existing silence. My Beloved is the mountains, The solitary wooded valleys, The strange islands, The roaring torrents, The whisper of the amorous gales — St. John of the Cross. Jack Collum — Ecology Surrounded by bone, surrounded by cells by rings, by rings of hell, by hair, surrounded by, hair-is-a-thing, surrounded by silouette, by honey-wet bees, yet by skeleton of trees, surrounded by actual, yes, for practical purposes, people, surrounded by surreal popcorn, surrounded by the reborn: Surrender in the center to surroundings.

I sometimes imagine that I AM my ancestors. That as I write I am speaking what my ancestors spoke or would speak through me. I think sometimes that my voice is the reincarnation of a voice from my ancestral past. When I have this awareness that I am speaking from an ancestral point back in time, I feel very peaceful. I have the feeling that I have entered into the flow of things. Scott Momaday.

But perhaps these are the very hours during which solitude grows; for its growing is painful as the growing of boys and sad as the beginning of spring. The pieces I am, she gather them and gave them back to me in all the right order. One must be careful of books, and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.

It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. For those who know only the world of words, silence is mere emptiness. But our silent heart knows the paradox: the emptiness of silence is inexhaustibly rich; all the words in the world are merely a trickle of its fullness. You begin to suspect, as you gaze through this you-shaped hole of insight and fire, that though it is the most important thing you own — never deny that for an instant — it has not shielded you from anything terribly important.

One chose to endure. Without any assurance of immortality, or even competence, one only knows one has not been cheated out of the consolation of carpenters, accountants, doctors, ditch-diggers, the ordinary people who must do useful things to be happy. Meander along, then, half blind and a little mad, wondering when you actually learned — was it before you began? The only difference would have been — and you learned it listening to all those brutally unhappy people who did throw away theirs — and they do, after all, comprise the vast and terrifying majority — that without it, there plainly and starkly would have been nothing there; no, nothing at all.

Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart. It is thanks to my evening reading alone that I am still more or less sane. In the same way there is much, much in all of us, but we do not know it. No one ever calls it out in us, unless we are lucky enough to know intelligent, imaginative, sympathetic people who love us and have the magnanimity to encourage us, to believe in us, by listening, by praise, by appreciation, by laughing.

If you are going to write, you must become aware of this richness in you and come to believe in it and know it is there so that you can write opulently with with self-trust. Once you become aware of it, have faith in it, you will be all right. I have always been more attracted to interesting questions, than well defined answers. It is the nature of good questions, the important ones, the ones that always return, to be more grounding and life affirming then an answer that is pat and settled, corked up and put on the shelf.

The answers that can never be found are precisely the ones we must treasure the most. We ask not to find answers, but to find questions. Futile questioning one might argue, but unattainable answers are those that manifest in our lives in the form of poetry. Take care of the person next to you. It might be your spouse, your child, your parents, or it might be a stranger. It begins with questioning. The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life. The rare moment is not the moment when there is something worth looking at but the moment when we are capable of seeing.

You were forever finding some new play. So when I saw you down on hands and knees I the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay, Trying, I thought, to set it up on end, I went to show you how to make it stay, If that was your idea, against the breeze, And, if you asked me, even help pretend To make it root again and grow afresh.

You wanted to restore them to their right Of something interposed between their sight And too much world at once—could means be found. The way the nest-full every time we stirred Stood up to us as to a mother-bird Whose coming home has been too long deferred, Made me ask would the mother-bird return And care for them in such a change of scene And might out meddling make her more afraid.

That was a thing we could not wait to learn. We saw the risk we took in doing good, But dared not spare to do the best we could Though harm should come of it; so built the screen You had begun, and gave them back their shade. All this to prove we cared. Why is there then No more to tell? We turned to other things. If you would look at a flower, any thought about that flower prevents you from looking at it.

The words the rose, the violet, it is this flower, that flower, it is that species keep you from observing. To look there must be no interference of the word, which is the objectifying of thought. If you look at your wife or husband, all the memories that you have had, either of pleasure or pain, interfere with looking. It is only when you look without the image that there is a relationship. Your verbal image and the verbal image of the other have no relationship at all. They are nonexistent. People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Modern education with its focus on material goals and a disregard for inner values is incomplete. There is a need to know about the workings of our minds and emotions. If we start today and make an effort to educate those who are young now in inner values, they will see a different, peaceful, more compassionate world in the future. Your body, for as long as it possibly can, will be faithful to living. Authenticity is not just a word. An authentic being bows down before nothing untrue. S he owns her truth no matter the consequences.

S he is inspired from the inside out. All poets are political. We are political by our noise and by our silence. What would it take to give political life psychological depth and layered and nuanced vision? Compassion is probably the only antitoxin of the soul. Where there is compassion, even the most poisonous impulses become relatively harmless. One would rather see the world run by men who set their hearts on toys but are accessible to pity, than by men animated by lofty ideals whose dedication makes them ruthless. Compassion alone stands apart from the continuous traffic between good and evil proceeding within us.

This is a world of multiple perspectives, multiple values and multiple priorities. All conflict comes from imposing our perspectives, values and priorities on others. All resolution comes from understanding the perspectives, values and priorities of others. This is known as connection before correction, listening before telling, and seeking to understand before wanting to be understood. When we have the patience to authentically engage with others, to understand, empathize and harmonize with them, the outcomes are far more beautiful and beneficial than anyone could have imagined.

The mind of compassion knows no bitterness nor judgment. No good nor bad, no right nor wrong, no true nor false. Only the wish for all beings to be happy. Do not pretend that you are some kind of powerful god. When you feel helpless, just accept the helplessness. You are not anything other than equal to all other sentient beings—vulnerable and helpless. Being helpless exposes our hearts to suffering. It develops our tenderness, increases the rawness, awakens our wisdom minds, and helps us understand and appreciate things we never thought we would appreciate, such as suffering and the causes of suffering.

It is when you find out the causes of suffering, and can connect the causes of suffering to the suffering itself that you uncover an incredible sense of compassion. That is the beginning of turning from a samsaric person to a person on the path, a person who could actually do something for others.

That is why we say that suffering is the direct cause of compassion, and compassion is the direct cause of the aspiration for enlightenment. In older philosophies the mind is tucked into the larger category of spirit, part of that urge in us to transcend the material life and our ignorance through knowledge, power, and experience. The deep soul points in a different direction: It is the focus of our humanity and individuality, our emotions and memories, our fears and desires. The soul is especially concerned about those things that make us secure and give us a sense of belonging: home, family, love, place, friends, and work.

While the spirit often prefers solitude and detachment, the soul comes alive in community and attachement. Believe me, you will find more lessons in the woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you what you cannot learn from masters. You know your holy place.

Your field, tree, chapel, cushion, cathedral, mat, temple or ocean wait for you. Go there often, without any agenda. And let your heart sing the lullabies of its longing to keep itself awake. Every molecule is humming its particular pitch. Of course you are a symphony. Whose tune do you think the planets are singing as they dance? True friends are those rare people who come to find you in dark places and lead you back to the light. Being tethered to their solidity, knowing that they had my back, allowed me to pursue a creative path. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Trying to get rid of habitual states of mind without having seen into your own nature is like trying to get rid of a dream while asleep. The desire to dispel the dream is just part of the dream. Knowing that it is a dream is also just part of the dream. It is never too late for the illumination of wisdom. It does not matter how long the darkness has lasted. To live in this world wisely, we have to go beyond the extremes of being numb to desire and being lost in desire.

How we open or close to the reality that we never arrive at safe enduring stasis is the matter, the raw material, of wisdom. A wealth you cannot imagine flows through you. Do not consider what strangers say. Be secluded in your secret heart-house, that bowl of silence. Saturday Morning Satori When the mind is exalted, the body is lightened, the Chinese say, Or one of them said, and feels as though it could float in the wind. Neglecting to say like what, I think it might be like a leaf, Like this leaf in careless counterpoint down from an unseen tree, West wind deep bass line under raven shrill.

The Art of Deception (Choc Lit): A heart-warming love story

Everything should be noticed. Watch the water, watch the birds, watch the sky. The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds. They want you to copy it. They want you to steal their work. Although from the beginning I knew the world is impermanent, not a moment passes when my sleeves are dry. A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move toward higher levels… — Albert Einstein.

From the place where we are right Flowers will never grow In the spring. The place where we are right Is hard and trampled Like a yard. But doubts and loves Dig up the world Like a mole, a plow. And a whisper will be heard in the place Where the ruined House once stood. At any moment, you have a choice, that either leads you closer to your spirit or further away from it. Be free where you are. A quiet mind is all you need. All else will happen rightly, once your mind is quiet. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear.

What we need is here. Thoughts are just like people. They react when they are judged, and they let go when they are listened to. Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself in. There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. As we grow higher in consciousness, we find that it is more important to be the right person than to find the right person.

We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects. The quilts that she made are magnificent. And they are far more magnificent than they need to be. During the past era our focus has been on a transcendent, often disembodied spirituality. As a result we have forgotten the very practical nature of our true self. In the dimension of oneness everything is included.

There is nothing higher or lower, nothing that is not sacred. Spiritual knowledge belongs to the whole of life, to each cell of creation. The soul is present within the whole body of each of us and also within the body of the earth. Spiritual principles offer us a very practical way to work with the energies of life.

Only the moon and I, on our meeting-bridge, alone, growing old — Kikusha-ni. Francis, trying to love all life, trying to be utterly sincere with everyone, practicing endurance, kindness, cultivating joy of the heart. How can this be done in our mad modern world of multiplicities and millions? By practicing a little solitude, going off by yourself once in a while to store up that most precious of goals: the vibrations of sincerity. Never has the individual been so completely delivered up to a blind collectivity, and never have men been so less capable, not only of subordinating their actions to their thoughts, but even of thinking.

The collective is the object of all idolatry. In the case of avarice, gold is the social order. In the case of ambition, power is the social order. Meditation on the social mechanism is, in this respect, a purification of the first importance. To contemplate the social is as good a way of detachment as to retire from the world. Society is the cave. The way out is solitude. So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind; while just the art of being kind, is all the sad world needs.

Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything. Yes, where poetry is liberative language, connecting the fragments within us, connecting us to others like and unlike ourselves, replenishing our desire.

In poetry words can say more than they mean and mean more than they say. In a time of frontal assaults both on language and on human solidarity, poetry can remind us of all we are in danger of losing—disturb us, embolden us out of resignation. I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and you laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom. For a day, just for one day, Talk about that which disturbs no one And bring some peace into your Beautiful eyes.

Empty yourself of everything. Let the mind become still. The ten thousand things rise and fall while the Self watches their return. They grow and flourish and then return to the Source. Returning to the Source is stillness, which is the way of Nature. I want it to be overcome with the self-aware energy of consciousness. It goes outside and plays. It takes music lessons. And when I do listen to music my mind must be active and aware, not mired in passive pleasure. But in either case I can only fully appreciate what I learned from the piece by carefully studying its effect on me.

But all this demands concentration. Why not just sit back and relax? Nietzsche mercilessly ridicules the bourgeois, too intellectually tepid to produce culture himself, who must pay underlings to do it for him. As a child I had a profound psychological aversion to television. Now I understand why. I believe that everyone is my brother and my sister. I believe that the animals and the birds, the trees and the plants are my cousins.

I believe that the mountains and the rivers and the oceans are my ancestors. These are core beliefs for me — not mere words to which I pay poetic lip service. This is the belief that orders and directs the actions of my life. Bioluminescence is one of the oldest and most prevalent languages on Earth—and one that is largely alien to us. Poetry in my view is a defense of the individual against all the forces arrayed against him. Every religion, every ideology and orthodoxy of thought and manner wants to reeducate him and make him into something else.

To sing from the same sheet is the ideal. One thing I hope that someday we learn, as a people, is how to question confused ideas, without demonizing people. At the same time, we really DO need to get a lot better at questioning bad ideas. Like, before November, — Ethan Nichtern. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and, therefore, the foundation of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

You can develop a rich inner life by being unusually receptive to the outer world. The momentary ripeness of this flesh, The short space of this breath, Quickly withered, The beauty is missed If not lived. Sometimes the pain of the world seems incomprehensible. I wonder if the decline of walking will lead to a decline of the creative process. Practically speaking, a life that is vowed to simplicity, appropriate boldness, good humor, gratitude, unstinting work and play, and lots of walking, brings us close to the actually existing world and its wholeness. The world is churning, not just warming, but at times on fire; at the same time, melting ice caps cause the sea to rise.

People become disoriented as well as dispossessed as the churning stirs deeply repressed fears and angers, and conflicts and delusions appear on the global stage. Amidst such massive disorientation one of the few ways to find purpose and meaning in life is to follow the thread of genius set within our souls. What keeps being lost is the uniqueness of the individual soul and the genius self which originally brought us to life. I dream by night the horror That I oppose by day. The nation in its error And by its work and play Destroys its land, pollutes Its streams, and desecrates Air and light.

From the roots It dies upwards, our rights Divinely given, plundered And sold by purchased power That dies from the head downward Marketed hour by hour That market is a grave Where goods lie dead that ought To live and grow and thrive, The dear world sold and bought To be destroyed by fire, Forest and soil and stone. The conscience put to hire Rules over flesh and bone To take the coal to burn They overturn the world And all the world has worn Of grace, of heath. The gnarled Clenched and forever shut First of their greed makes small The great life.

Hollowed out, The soul like the green hill Yields to the force of dearth. Look, anyone seeking ontological meltdown can easily find it in the attempt to write. The more we tap into our bodies and begin to listen to our bodies, the more we start to realize that a lot of what goes around in this culture is actually insane. So, a very important part of the work is to question a lot of things we assume are true.

Humans cannot integrate experience that is inconsistent with their belief system. The only way they can do it is by changing what they believe. In Tibetan Buddhism this is called developing the view, and what it means is that we are going to be considering different ways of considering our world, ourselves, how we go about things, and what it means to be human.

We write out of revenge against reality, to dream and enter into the lives of others. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use — silence, exile, and cunning. This Love is beyond the study of theology, that old trickery and hypocrisy. If you want to improve your mind that way, sleep on.

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you. How do you disempower a corrupt system? By empowering yourself. How do you awaken a sleeping population? By awakening yourself. How do you heal a toxic society? By healing yourself. All fear based systems need to grow up.

All love based systems need to show up. Birds tug at the mind and tug at the heart with a strange intensity. Their ability to flock elegantly, as the snow geese do, where a thousand individual birds become one great organism, and their ability to navigate over great stretches of what is, for us, featureless space, are mysterious, sophisticated skills. Over the years, one comes to measure a place, too, not just for the beauty it may give, the balminess of its breezes, the insouciance and relaxation it encourages, the sublime pleasures it offers, but for what it teaches. The way in which it alters our perception of the human.

It is not so much that you want to return to indifferent or difficult places, but that you want to not forget. Maybe wisdom is: learning to see our habits and thoughts with such clarity that we know how to grow into a better version of ourselves through them. Perhaps taking the time to get to know our neuroses a little better helps us become more flexible adaptable beings. It seems to me that we do not have to feel limited by the experience of them, but rather they allow for us to realize and derive a better knowing of which direction to head and grow into by learning how to fully see the experience of those emotional states.

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, — Her admonition mild — Emily Dickinson. Help us build a heaven here. So I said that I would come. I was asked when I applied to name some service I could bring.


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I think service should be joyous, so I said that I would sing. Music imprints itself on the brain deeper than any other human experience. Music evokes emotion and emotion can bring with it memory. Music brings back the feeling of life when nothing else can. Inner peace of mind occurs on three levels of understanding. The Buddha never portrayed happiness as a consumer product. Sometimes, you have to change your whole life to write what you love, the way you want to write it. When we approach with reverence, great things decide to approach us.

Our real life comes to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty in things. When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us. Ultimately, there can be no complete healing until we have restored our primal trust in life. The human brain has billion neurons, each neuron connected to 10 thousand other neurons. Sitting on your shoulders is the most complicated object in the known universe. The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten. And so forth. Quiet as a feather.

One of the doors into the temple. We must gather our inner Kingdom — our one-eyed hags, our bright heroes, our drowned magicians, our sleeping Queen, our depressed artists, our accountants, and our ecstatics — and prepare a feast. Not for peace or any simplistic notion, but to get all the troublemakers under one roof.

If we peer at them for a moment or two, they start to look like a family. And that one there, serving the drinks, dressed in white, first on the dance floor? Death in service to Life. Sooner or later the melody will say it all. The mice will carry all our defeats into Asia, And the Tuva throat-singers will tell the whole story. The task we have accepted is to go down To renew our friendship with the ruined things. Regain your senses, call yourself back, and once again wake up. In dwelling, live close to the ground. In thinking, keep to the simple.

In conflict, be fair and generous. In work, do what you enjoy. In family life, be completely present. Mother is both a noun and a verb. The other half of the question of what there is to celebrate is what mothered and mothers you, how you mother yourself, how you celebrate and recognize what cares for you and takes care of you, and what you care for in return. And of my own mother I wrote, in The Faraway Nearby: Like lawyers, writers seek consistency; they make a case for their point of view; they do so by leaving out some evidence; but let me mention the hundreds of sandwiches my mother made during my elementary school years, the peanut butter sandwiches I ate alone on school benches in the open, throwing the crusts into the air where the seagulls would swoop to catch them before they hit the ground.

When my friends began to have babies and I came to comprehend the heroic labor it takes to keep one alive, the constant exhausting tending of a being who can do nothing and demands everything, I realized that my mother had done all these things for me before I remembered. I was fed; I was washed; I was clothed; I was taught to speak and given a thousand other things, over and over again, hourly, daily, for years.

She gave me everything before she gave me nothing. May you locate the ten thousand mothers that brought you into being and keep you going, no matter who and where you are. May you be the mother of uncounted possibilities and loves. The mythic directive in such a moment is unusual. It says this: go deeper.

Attend to the Goddess underneath the unfolding. But of course, the diver swims down not just with their terror, but with their stories, their artfulness, their skill. Most importantly, most wonderfully, their love. Ironically, only by diving deeper can the ice melt. In such times, attend to your soul-ground. And that is not some interior — unless everything is interior — it radiates out to a related field of kiddies, sickly elms at the edge of a motorway, the distracted young mum at the food kitchen, the galloping ecosystem of your nightly dreaming.

We are living in a time when every one of us is going to have to make that descent. All of us. It is simply the right way to behave. When you swim down to Sedna you are in the business of alchemy: the tributary of your own fears meets the ocean of your artfulness and suddenly you are giving a gift, not seduced by your own wound. It is quite wonderful. We could learn the home-making skills again to welcome such stories back into our lives.

Loyalty to your soul-star is the beginning of your nostos, your great voyage home. God has blessed you, so rise up. Find out what you love. Speak it. Be it. Steward it. Nothing else will quite fill your soul, or make such deep purchase in your heart. It will make you kind.

Martin Shaw. You swallow my words but do not chew the fiber —owl pellets remain. As when one afternoon All of us there trooped out Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn, I take my stand again, halt opposite Anahorish Hill to scan the blue, Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet. And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew, Lifts itself, goes with the wind until It rises to loud cheers from us below.

Rises, and my hand is like a spindle Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher The longing in the breast and planted feet And gazing face and heart of the kite flier Until string breaks and—separate, elate— The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall. They are not an obstacle to practice. They are the ones who need our loving-kindness, our compassion, our patience, our joyous effort. Our wisdom. But the sentient beings for whom we really have to generate loving-kindness and compassion are the ones who are right in front of us, especially those for whom we are most karmically responsible.

They are our objects of practice. Perhaps above them all there is a great motherhood, in the form of a communal yearning. And in the man too there is motherhood, it seems to me, physical and mental; his engendering is also a kind of birthing, and it is birthing when he creates out of his innermost fullness. And perhaps the sexes are more akin than people think, and the great renewal of the world will perhaps consist in one phenomenon: that man and woman, freed from all mistaken feelings and aversions, will seek each other not as opposites but as brother and sister, as neighbors, and will unite as human beings in order to bear in common, simply, earnestly, and patiently, the heavy sex that has been laid upon them.

Women are the wisdom-storehouse from which every being has come, including the Buddha and Bodhidharma. If, from childbirth, man is already woven-in with the feminine, his violent denial of it later shows an utter lack of enlightenment. In beauty. Yes It could happen any time, tornado, earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen. Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could you know. But some bonuses, like morning, like right now, like noon, like evening. The only way to forget the ocean is to walk in the forest. A writer needs his poisons. The antidote to his poisons is often a book. We are matter, kindred with ocean and tree and sky. We are flesh and blood and bone. To sink into that is a relief, a homecoming. In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. Journeys bring power and love back into you. They are like shafts of light, always changing, and you change when you explore them. Buddhist systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth.

At last he went up to the closet, which was my good lady's dressing-room; a room I once loved, but then as much hated. Don't your heart ache for me? O Pamela, said I to myself, why art thou so foolish and fearful? Thou hast done no harm! What, if thou fearest an unjust judge, when thou art innocent, would'st thou do before a just one, if thou wert guilty? Have courage, Pamela, thou knowest the worst!

And how easy a choice poverty and honesty is, rather than plenty and wickedness. So I cheered myself; but yet my poor heart sunk, and my spirits were quite broken. Everything that stirred, I thought was to call me to my account. I dreaded it, and yet I wished it to come. Well, at last he rung the bell: O, thought I, that it was my passing-bell! Jervis went up, with a full heart enough, poor good woman! He said, Where's Pamela?

Let her come up, and do you come with her. She came to me: I was ready to go with my feet; but my heart was with my dear father and mother, wishing to share your poverty and happiness. I went up, however. O how can wicked men seem so steady and untouched with such black hearts, while poor innocents stand like malefactors before them!

He looked so stern, that my heart failed me, and I wished myself any where but there, though I had before been summoning up all my courage. Good Heaven, said I to myself, give me courage to stand before this naughty master! O soften him, or harden me!

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Come in, fool, said he, angrily, as soon as he saw me; and snatched my hand with a pull; you may well be ashamed to see me, after your noise and nonsense, and exposing me as you have done. I ashamed to see you! Jervis, said he, here you are both together. Do you sit down; but let her stand, if she will. Ay, thought I, if I can; for my knees beat one against the other. Did you not think, when you saw the girl in the way you found her in, that I had given her the greatest occasion for complaint, that could possibly be given to a woman?

And that I had actually ruined her, as she calls it?

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Tell me, could you think any thing less? Indeed, said she, I feared so at first. Has she told you what I did to her, and all I did to her, to occasion all this folly, by which my reputation might have suffered in your opinion, and in that of all the family. She was a little too much frightened, as she owned afterwards, at his sternness, and said, Indeed she told me you only pulled her on your knee, and kissed her.

Then I plucked up my spirits a little. When a master of his honour's degree demeans himself to be so free as that to such a poor servant as me, what is the next to be expected? So I fell a crying most sadly. Jervis began to excuse me, and to beg he would pity a poor maiden, that had such a value for her reputation.

He said, I speak it to her face, I think her very pretty, and I thought her humble, and one that would not grow upon my favours, or the notice I took of her; but I abhor the thoughts of forcing her to any thing. I know myself better, said he, and what belongs to me: And to be sure I have enough demeaned myself to take notice of such a one as she; but I was bewitched by her, I think, to be freer than became me; though I had no intention to carry the jest farther.

What poor stuff was all this, my dear mother, from a man of his sense! But see how a bad cause and bad actions confound the greatest wits! So I said, Your honour may call this jest or sport, or what you please; but indeed, sir, it is not a jest that becomes the distance between a master and a servant. Do you hear, Mrs. I had a good deal of this sort before in the summer-house, and yesterday too, which made me rougher with her than perhaps I had otherwise been. Says Mrs. Jervis, Pamela, don't be so pert to his honour: you should know your distance; you see his honour was only in jest.

Jervis, said I, don't you blame me too. It is very difficult to keep one's distance to the greatest of men, when they won't keep it themselves to their meanest servants. See again! Good your honour, said the well-meaning gentlewoman, pity and forgive the poor girl; she is but a girl, and her virtue is very dear to her; and I will pawn my life for her, she will never be pert to your honour, if you'll be so good as to molest her no more, nor frighten her again. You saw, sir, by her fit, she was in terror; she could not help it; and though your honour intended her no harm, yet the apprehension was almost death to her: and I had much ado to bring her to herself again.

O the little hypocrite! But this was not the reason principally of my calling you before me together. I find I am likely to suffer in my reputation by the perverseness and folly of this girl. She has told you all, and perhaps more than all; nay, I make no doubt of it; and she has written letters for I find she is a mighty letter-writer! I was brightened up at once with these welcome words, and I threw myself upon my knees at his feet, with a most sincere glad heart; and I said, May your honour be for ever blessed for your resolution!

Now I shall be happy. And permit me, on my bended knees, to thank you for all the benefits and favours you have heaped upon me; for the opportunities I have had of improvement and learning, through my good lady's means, and yours. I will now forget all your honour has offered me: and I promise you, that I will never let your name pass my lips, but with reverence and gratitude: and so God Almighty bless your honour, for ever and ever!

Then rising from my knees, I went away with another-guise sort of heart than I came into his presence with: and so I fell to writing this letter. And thus all is happily over. And now, my dearest father and mother, expect to see soon your poor daughter, with an humble and dutiful mind, returned to you: and don't fear but I know how to be as happy with you as ever: for I will be in the loft, as I used to do; and pray let my little bed be got ready; and I have a small matter of money, which will buy me a suit of clothes, fitter for my condition than what I have; and I will get Mrs.

Mumford to help me to some needle-work: and fear not that I shall be a burden to you, if my health continues. I know I shall be blessed, if not for my own sake, for both your sakes, who have, in all your trials and misfortunes, preserved so much integrity as makes every body speak well of you both.

But I hope he will let good Mrs. Jervis give me a character, for fear it should be thought that I was turned away for dishonesty. And so, my dear parents, may you be blest for me, and I for you! And I will always pray for my master and Mrs. So good night; for it is late, and I shall be soon called to bed. I hope Mrs. Jervis is not angry with me. She has not called me to supper: though I could eat nothing if she had.

But I make no doubt I shall sleep purely to-night, and dream that I am with you, in my dear, dear, happy loft once more. Perhaps I mayn't come this week, because I must get up the linen, and leave in order every thing belonging to my place. So send me a line, if you can, to let me know if I shall be welcome, by John, who will call for it as he returns. But say nothing of my coming away to him, as yet: for it will be said I blab every thing. Welcome, welcome, ten times welcome shall you be to us; for you come to us innocent, and happy, and honest; and you are the staff of our old age, and our comfort.

And though we cannot do for you as we would, yet, fear not, we shall live happily together; and what with my diligent labour, and your poor mother's spinning, and your needle-work, I make no doubt we shall do better and better. Only your poor mother's eyes begin to fail her; though, I bless God, I am as strong and able, and willing to labour as ever; and, O my dear child!

What blessed things are trials and temptations, when we have the strength to resist and subdue them! But I am uneasy about those same four guineas; I think you should give them back again to your master; and yet I have broken them. I have only three left; but I will borrow the fourth, if I can, part upon my wages, and part of Mrs. Mumford, and send the whole sum back to you, that you may return it, against John comes next, if he comes again before you.

I want to know how you come. I fancy honest John will be glad to bear you company part of the way, if your master is not so cross as to forbid him. And if I know time enough, your mother will go one five miles, and I will go ten on the way, or till I meet you, as far as one holiday will go; for that I can get leave to make on such an occasion. And we shall receive you with more pleasure than we had at your birth, when all the worst was over; or than we ever had in our lives.

And so God bless you till the happy time comes! I thank you a thousand tines for your goodness to me, expressed in your last letter. I now long to get my business done, and come to my new old lot again, as I may call it. I have been quite another thing since my master has turned me off: and as I shall come to you an honest daughter, what pleasure it is to what I should have had, if I could not have seen you but as a guilty one. Well, my writing-time will soon be over, and so I will make use of it now, and tell you all that has happened since my last letter.

I wondered Mrs. Jervis did not call me to sup with her, and feared she was angry; and when I had finished my letter, I longed for her coming to bed. At last she came up, but seemed shy and reserved; and I said, My dear Mrs. Jervis, I am glad to see you: you are not angry with me, I hope. She said she was sorry things had gone so far; and that she had a great deal of talk with my master, after I was gone; that he seemed moved at what I said, and at my falling on my knees to him, and my prayer for him, at my going away.

He said I was a strange girl; he knew not what to make of me. And is she gone? She asked, if she should call me again? He said, Yes; and then, No, let her go; it is best for her and me too; and she shall go, now I have given her warning. Where she had it, I can't tell; but I never met with the fellow of her in any life, at any age.

She said, he had ordered her not to tell me all: but she believed he would never offer any thing to me again; and I might stay, she fancied, if I would beg it as a favour; though she was not sure neither. I stay! Jervis; said I; why it is the best news that could have come to me, that he will let me go.

I do nothing but long to go back again to my poverty and distress, as he threatened I should; for though I am sure of the poverty, I shall not have half the distress I have had for some months past, I'll assure you. Jervis, dear good soul! I am sure I never had a child half so dear to me as you are. I went to hear her so good to me, as indeed she has always been, and said, What would you have me to do, dear Mrs. I love you next to my own father and mother, and to leave you is the chief concern I have at quitting this place; but I am sure it is certain ruin if I stay.

After such offers, and such threatenings, and his comparing himself to a wicked ravisher in the very time of his last offer; and turning it into a jest, that we should make a pretty story in a romance; can I stay and be safe? Has he not demeaned himself twice? And it behoves me to beware of the third time, for fear he should lay his snares surer; for perhaps he did not expect a poor servant would resist her master so much. And must it not be looked upon as a sort of warrant for such actions, if I stay after this?

For, I think, when one of our sex finds she is attempted, it is an encouragement to the attempter to proceed, if one puts one's self in the way of it, when one can help it: 'Tis neither more nor less than inviting him to think that one forgives, what, in short, ought not to be forgiven: Which is no small countenance to foul actions, I'll assure you.

She hugged me to her, and said I'll assure you! Pretty-face, where gottest thou all thy knowledge, and thy good notions, at these years?

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Thou art a miracle for thy age, and I shall always love thee. Yes, my dear Mrs. Jervis, said I; for, as matters stand, how can I do otherwise? Ay, that I will, said she; I will give thee such a character as never girl at thy years deserved. And I am sure, said I, I will always love and honour you, as my third-best friend, wherever I go, or whatever becomes of me. And so we went to bed; and I never waked till 'twas time to rise; which I did as blithe as a bird, and went about my business with great pleasure.

But I believe my master is fearfully angry with me; for he passed by me two or three times, and would not speak to me; and towards evening, he met me in the passage, going into the garden, and said such a word to me as I never heard in my life from him to man, woman, or child; for he first said, This creature's always in the way, I think. I said, standing up as close as I could, and the entry was wide enough for a coach too, I hope I shan't be long in your honour's way.

D—mn you! I profess I trembled to hear him say so; but I saw he was vexed; and, as I am going away, I minded it the less. I see, my dear parents, that when a person will do wicked things, it is no wonder he will speak wicked words. May God keep me out of the way of them both! Our John having an opportunity to go your way, I write again, and send both letters at once.

I can't say, yet, when I shall get away, nor how I shall come, because Mrs. Jervis shewed my master the waistcoat I am flowering for him, and he said, It looks well enough: I think the creature had best stay till she has finished it. There is some private talk carried on betwixt him and Mrs. Jervis, that she don't tell me of; but yet she is very kind to me, and I don't mistrust her at all.

I should be very base if I did. But to be sure she must oblige him, and keep all his lawful commands; and other, I dare say, she won't keep: She is too good; and loves me too well; but she must stay when I am gone, and so must get no ill will. She has been at me again to ask to stay, and humble myself. But what have I done, Mrs. Do you think I should ever have forgot myself, if he had not forgot to act as my master?

Tell me from your own heart, dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, if you think I could stay and be safe: What would you think, or how would you act in my case? My dear Pamela, said she, and kissed me, I don't know how I should act, or what I should think. I hope I should act as you do. But I know nobody else that would. My master is a fine gentleman; he has a great deal of wit and sense, and is admired, as I know, by half a dozen ladies, who would think themselves happy in his addresses.

He has a noble estate; and yet I believe he loves my good maiden, though his servant, better than all the ladies in the land; and he has tried to overcome it, because you are so much his inferior; and 'tis my opinion he finds he can't; and that vexes his proud heart, and makes him resolve you shan't stay; and so he speaks so cross to you, when he sees you by accident. Well, but, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you, if he can stoop to like such a poor girl as me, as perhaps he may, for I have read of things almost as strange, from great men to poor damsels, What can it be for?

And so if I was wicked enough, he would keep me till I was undone, and till his mind changed; for even wicked men, I have read, soon grow weary of wickedness with the same person, and love variety. Well, then, poor Pamela must be turned off, and looked upon as a vile abandoned creature, and every body would despise her; ay, and justly too, Mrs. Jervis; for she that can't keep her virtue, ought to live in disgrace.

But, Mrs. Jervis, I continued, let me tell you, that I hope, if I was sure he would always be kind to me, and never turn me off at all, that I shall have so much grace, as to hate and withstand his temptations, were he not only my master, but my king: and that for the sin's sake. This my poor dear parents have always taught me; and I should be a sad wicked creature indeed, if, for the sake of riches or favour, I should forfeit my good name; yea, and worse than any other young body of my sex; because I can so contentedly return to my poverty again, and think it a less disgrace to be obliged to wear rags, and live upon rye-bread and water, as I used to do, than to be a harlot to the greatest man in the world.

Jervis lifted up her hands, and had her eyes full of tears. God bless you, my dear love! Well, good Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you now:—You and he have had some talk, and you mayn't be suffered to tell me all. But, do you think, if I was to ask to stay, that he is sorry for what he has done? Ay, and ashamed of it too? For I am sure he ought, considering his high degree, and my low degree, and how I have nothing in the world to trust to but my honesty: Do you think in your own conscience now, pray answer me truly, that he would never offer any thing to me again, and that I could be safe?

I know this, that he is vexed at what he has done; he was vexed the first time, more vexed the second time. Yes, said I, and so he will be vexed, I suppose, the third, and the fourth time too, till he has quite ruined your poor maiden; and who will have cause to be vexed then?

Nay, Pamela, said she, don't imagine that I would be accessory to your ruin for the world. I only can say, that he has, yet, done you no hurt; and it is no wonder he should love you, you are so pretty; though so much beneath him but, I dare swear for him, he never will offer you any force. You say, said I, that he was sorry for his first offer in the summer-house. Well, and how long did his sorrow last? And if he has deigned to love me, and you say can't help it, why, he can't help it neither, if he should have an opportunity, a third time to distress me. And I have read that many a man has been ashamed of his wicked attempts, when he has been repulsed, that would never have been ashamed of them, had he succeeded.

Besides, Mrs. Jervis, if he really intends to offer no force, What does that mean? I think, said I, and hope I should have grace to do so, that I should not give way to his temptations on any account; but it would be very presumptuous in me to rely upon my own strength against a gentleman of his qualifications and estate, and who is my master; and thinks himself entitled to call me bold-face, and what not?

How then, Mrs. Jervis, said I, can I ask or wish to stay? Well, well, says she; as he seems very desirous you should not stay, I hope it is from a good motive; for fear he should be tempted to disgrace himself as well as you. No, no, Mrs. Jervis, said I; I have thought of that too; for I would be glad to consider him with that duty that becomes me: but then he would have let me go to Lady Davers, and not have hindered my preferment: and he would not have said, I should return to my poverty and distress, when, by his mother's goodness, I had been lifted out of it; but that he intended to fright me, and punish me, as he thought, for not complying with his wickedness: And this shews me well enough what I have to expect from his future goodness, except I will deserve it at his own dear price.

She was silent; and I added, Well, there's no more to be said; I must go, that's certain: All my concern will be how to part with you: and, indeed, after you, with every body; for all my fellow-servants have loved me, and you and they will cost me a sigh, and a tear too, now and then, I am sure. And so I fell a crying: I could not help it. For it is a pleasant thing to one to be in a house among a great many fellow-servants, and be beloved by them all. Nay, I should have told you before now, how kind and civil Mr. Longman our steward is; vastly courteous, indeed, on all occasions!

And he said once to Mrs. Jervis, he wished he was a young man for my sake; I should be his wife, and he would settle all he had upon me on marriage; and, you must know, he is reckoned worth a power of money. I take no pride in this; but bless God, and your good examples, my dear parents, that I have been enabled so to carry myself, as to have every body's good word; Not but our cook one day, who is a little snappish and cross sometimes, said once to me, Why this Pamela of ours goes as fine as a lady.

See what it is to have a fine face! She was hot with her work; and I sneaked away; for I seldom go down into the kitchen; and I heard the butler say, Why, Jane, nobody has your good word: What has Mrs. Pamela done to you? I am sure she offends nobody. And what, said the peevish wench, have I said to her, foolatum; but that she was pretty? They quarrelled afterwards, I heard: I was sorry for it, but troubled myself no more about it. Forgive this silly prattle, from.

I forgot to say, that I would stay to finish the waistcoat, if I might with safety. Jervis tells me I certainly may. I never did a prettier piece of work; and I am up early and late to get it over; for I long to be with you. I did not send my last letters so soon as I hoped, because John whether my master mistrusts or no, I can't say had been sent to Lady Davers's instead of Isaac, who used to go; and I could not be so free with, nor so well trust Isaac; though he is very civil to me too. So I was forced to stay till John returned.

As I may not have opportunity to send again soon, and yet, as I know you keep my letters, and read them over and over, so John told me, when you have done work, so much does your kindness make you love all that comes from your poor daughter, and as it may be some little pleasure to me, perhaps, to read them myself, when I am come to you, to remind me of what I have gone through, and how great God's goodness has been to me, which, I hope, will further strengthen my good resolutions, that I may not hereafter, from my bad conduct, have reason to condemn myself from my own hand as it were : For all these reasons, I say, I will write as I have time, and as matters happen, and send the scribble to you as I have opportunity; and if I don't every time, in form, subscribe as I ought, I am sure you will always believe, that it is not for want of duty.

So I will begin where I left off, about the talk between Mrs. Jervis and me, for me to ask to stay. Unknown to Mrs. Jervis, I put a project, as I may call it, in practice. I thought with myself some days ago, Here I shall go home to my poor father and mother, and have nothing on my back, that will be fit for my condition; for how should your poor daughter look with a silk night-gown, silken petticoats, cambric head-clothes, fine holland linen, laced shoes that were my lady's; and fine stockings!

And how in a little while must these have looked, like old cast-offs, indeed, and I looked so for wearing them! And people would have said, for poor folks are envious as well as rich, See there Goody Andrews's daughter, turned home from her fine place! What a tawdry figure she makes! And how well that garb becomes her poor parents' circumstances! And how should I look, even if I could purchase homespun clothes, to dwindle into them one by one, as I got them?

So, thought I, I had better get myself at once equipped in the dress that will become my condition; and though it may look but poor to what I have been used to wear of late days, yet it will serve me, when I am with you, for a good holiday and Sunday suit; and what, by a blessing on my industry, I may, perhaps, make shift to keep up to. So, as I was saying, unknown to any body, I bought of farmer Nichols's wife and daughters a good sad-coloured stuff, of their own spinning, enough to make me a gown and two petticoats; and I made robings and facings of a pretty bit of printed calico I had by me.

I had a pretty good camblet quilted coat, that I thought might do tolerably well; and I bought two flannel undercoats; not so good as my swanskin and fine linen ones, but what will keep me warm, if any neighbour should get me to go out to help 'em to milk, now and then, as sometimes I used to do formerly; for I am resolved to do all your good neighbours what kindness I can; and hope to make myself as much beloved about you, as I am here. I got some pretty good Scotch cloth, and made me, of mornings and nights, when nobody saw me, two shifts; and I have enough left for two shirts, and two shifts, for you my dear father and mother.

When I come home, I'll make them for you, and desire your acceptance. Then I bought of a pedlar, two pretty enough round-eared caps, a little straw-hat, and a pair of knit mittens, turned up with white calico; and two pair of ordinary blue worsted hose, that make a smartish appearance, with white clocks, I'll assure you; and two yards of black riband for my shift sleeves, and to serve as a necklace; and when I had 'em all come home, I went and looked upon them once in two hours, for two days together: For, you must know, though I be with Mrs.

Jervis, I keep my own little apartment still for my clothes, and nobody goes thither but myself. You'll say I was no bad housewife to have saved so much money; but my dear good lady was always giving me something. I believed myself the more obliged to do this, because, as I was turned away for what my good master thought want of duty; and as he expected other returns for his presents, than I intended to make him, so I thought it was but just to leave his presents behind me when I went away; for, you know, if I would not earn his wages, why should I have them?

Don't trouble yourself about the four guineas, nor borrow to make them up; for they were given me, with some silver, as I told you, as a perquisite, being what my lady had about her when she died; and, as I hope for no wages, I am so vain as to think I have deserved all that money in the fourteen months, since my lady's death, for she, good soul, overpaid me before, in learning and other kindnesses. Had she lived, none of these things might have happened! Every thing will turn about for the best: that's my confidence.

So, as I was saying, I have provided a new and more suitable dress, and I long to appear in it, more than ever I did in any new clothes in my life: for then I shall be soon after with you, and at ease in my mind—But, mum! Here he comes, I believe. I was forced to break off: for I feared my master was coming: but it proved to be only Mrs.

She said, I can't endure you should be so much by yourself, Pamela. And I, said I, dread nothing so much as company; for my heart was up at my mouth now, for fear my master was coming. But I always rejoice to see dear Mrs. Said she, I have had a world of talk with my master about you. I am sorry for it, said I, that I am made of so much consequence as to be talked of by him.

O, said she, I must not tell you all; but you are of more consequence to him than you think for——. Or wish for, said I; for the fruits of being of consequence to him, would make me of none to myself, or any body else. Said she, Thou art as witty as any lady in the land; I wonder where thou gottest it. But they must be poor ladies, with such great opportunities, I am sure, if they have no more wit than I.

I suppose, said I, that I am of so much consequence, however, as to vex him, if it be but to think he can't make a fool of such a one as I; and that is nothing at all, but a rebuke to the pride of his high condition, which he did not expect, and knows not how to put up with. There is something in that, may be, said she: but, indeed, Pamela, he is very angry with you too; and calls you twenty perverse things; wonders at his own folly, to have shewn you so much favour, as he calls it; which he was first inclined to, he says, for his mother's sake, and would have persisted to shew you for your own, if you was not your own enemy.

Nay, now I shan't love you, Mrs. Jervis, said I; you are going to persuade me to ask to stay, though you know the hazards I run. I coloured up to the ears at this word: but said, Yet, if I was the lady of birth, and he would offer to be rude first, as he has twice done to poor me, I don't know whether I would have him: For she that can bear an insult of that kind, I should think not worthy to be a gentleman's wife: any more than he would be a gentleman that would offer it.

Nay, now, Pamela, said she, thou carriest thy notions a great way. Well, dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, very seriously, for I could not help it, I am more full of fears than ever. I have only to beg of you, as one of the best friends I have in the world, to say nothing of my asking to stay. To say my master likes me, when I know what end he aims at, is abomination to my ears; and I shan't think myself safe till I am at my poor father's and mother's. She was a little angry with me, till I assured her that I had not the least uneasiness on her account, but thought myself safe under her protection and friendship.

And so we dropt the discourse for that time. I hope to have finished this ugly waistcoat in two days; after which I have only some linen to get up, and shall then let you know how I contrive as to my passage; for the heavy rains will make it sad travelling on foot: but may be I may get a place to which is ten miles of the way, in farmer Nichols's close cart; for I can't sit a horse well at all, and may be nobody will be suffered to see me on upon the way.

But I hope to let you know more. From, etc. All my fellow-servants have now some notion that I am to go away; but can't imagine for what. Jervis tells them, that my father and mother, growing in years, cannot live without me; and so I go home to them, to help to comfort their old age; but they seem not to believe it. What they found it out by was; the butler heard him say to me, as I passed by him, in the entry leading to the hall, Who's that?

Pamela, sir, said I. Indeed, and please your honour, said I, I have worked early and late upon it; there is a great deal of work in it. He seemed startled, when he saw the butler, as he entered the hall, where Mr. Jonathan stood. What do you here? Jervis, and told my complaint. This love, said she, is the d——! In how many strange shapes does it make people shew themselves! And in some the farthest from their hearts.

So one, and then another, has been since whispering, Pray, Mrs. Jervis, are we to lose Mrs. And she tells them, as above, about going home to you. She said afterwards to me, Well, Pamela, you have made our master, from the sweetest tempered gentleman in the world, one of the most peevish. But you have it in your power to make him as sweet-tempered as ever; though I hope you'll never do it on his terms. This was very good in Mrs. Jervis; but it intimated, that she thought as ill of his designs as I; and as she knew his mind more than I, it convinced me that I ought to get away as fast as I could.

My master came in, just now, to speak to Mrs. Jervis about household matters, having some company to dine with him to-morrow; and I stood up, and having been crying at his roughness in the entry, I turned away my face. You may well, said he, turn away your cursed face; I wish I had never seen it! Jervis, how long is she to be about this waistcoat? Sir, said I, if your honour had pleased, I would have taken it with me; and though it would be now finished in a few hours, I will do so still; and remove this hated poor Pamela out of your house and sight for ever.

Jervis, said he, not speaking to me, I believe this little slut has the power of witchcraft, if ever there was a witch; for she enchants all that come near her. She makes even you, who should know better what the world is, think her an angel of light. I offered to go away; for I believe he wanted me to ask to stay in my place, for all this his great wrath: and he said, Stay here! Stay here, when I bid you!

I trembled, and said, I will! I will! He seemed to have a mind to say something to me; but broke off abruptly, and said, Begone! And away I tripped as fast as I could: and he and Mrs. Jervis had a deal of talk, as she told me; and among the rest, he expressed himself vexed to have spoken in Mr. Jonathan's hearing. Now you must know, that Mr. Jonathan, our butler, is a very grave good sort of old man, with his hair as white as silver! I was hurrying out with a flea in my ear, as the saying is, and going down stairs into the parlour, met him. He took hold of my hand in a gentler manner, though, than my master with both his; and he said, Ah!

Thank you, Mr. Jonathan, said I; but as you value your place, don't be seen speaking to such a one as me. I cried too; and slipt away as fast as I could from him, for his own sake, lest he should be seen to pity me. I had lost my pen some how; and my paper being written out, I stepped to Mr. Longman's, our steward's, office, to beg him to give me a pen or two, and a sheet or two of paper.

He said, Ay, that I will, my sweet maiden! Yes it is, sir, said I; but I was in hopes it would not be known till I went away. What a d—-l, said he, ails our master of late! I never saw such an alteration in any man in my life! He is pleased with nobody as I see; and by what Mr. Jonathan tells me just now, he was quite out of the way with you. What could you have done to him, tro'?

Only Mrs. Jervis is a very good woman, or I should have feared she had been your enemy. No, said I, nothing like it. Jervis is a just good woman; and, next to my father and mother, the best friend I have in the world—Well, then, said he, it must be worse. Shall I guess? You are too pretty, my sweet mistress, and, may be, too virtuous. No, good Mr. Longman, said I, don't think any thing amiss of my master; he is cross and angry with me indeed, that's true; but I may have given occasion for it, possibly; and because I am desirous to go to my father and mother, rather than stay here, perhaps he may think me ungrateful.

But, you know, sir, said I, that a father and mother's comfort is the dearest thing to a good child that can be. Sweet excellence! And so a blessing attend my little sweeting, said he, wherever you go! And away went I with a courtesy and thanks. Now this pleases one, my dear father and mother, to be so beloved. I am, etc. We had a great many neighbouring gentlemen, and their ladies, this day, at dinner; and my master made a fine entertainment for them: and Isaac, and Mr. Jonathan, and Benjamin, waited at table: And Isaac tells Mrs.

Jervis, that the ladies will by and by come to see the house, and have the curiosity to see me; for, it seems, they said to my master, when the jokes flew about, Well, Mr. B——, we understand you have a servant-maid, who is the greatest beauty in the county; and we promise ourselves to see her before we go. The wench is well enough, said he; but no such beauty as you talk of, I'll assure ye. She was my mother's waiting-maid, who, on her death-bed, engaged me to be kind to her. She is young, and every thing is pretty that is young.

Ay, ay, said one of the ladies, that's true; but if your mother had not recommended her so strongly, there is so much merit in beauty, that I make no doubt such a fine gentleman would have wanted no inducement to be kind to it. They all laughed at my master: And he, it seems, laughed for company; but said, I don't know how it is, but I see with different eyes from other people; for I have heard much more talk of her prettiness, than I think it deserves: She is well enough, as I said: but her greatest excellence is, that she is humble, and courteous, and faithful, and makes all her fellow-servants love her: My housekeeper, in particular, doats upon her; and you know, ladies, she is a woman of discernment: And, as for Mr.

Longman, and Jonathan, here, if they thought themselves young enough, I am told, they would fight for her. Is it not true, Jonathan? Troth, sir, said he, an't please your honour, I never knew her peer, and all your honour's family are of the same mind. Do you hear now? Jervis by and by, and hope to see this paragon. I believe they are coming; and will tell you the rest by and by.

I wish they had come, and were gone. Why can't they make their game without me? Well, these fine ladies have been here, and are gone back again. I would have been absent, if I could, and did step into the closet: so they saw me when they came in. There were four of them, Lady Arthur at the great white house on the hill, Lady Brooks, Lady Towers, and the other, it seems, a countess, of some hard name, I forget what.

So Mrs. Jervis, says one of the ladies, how do you do? We are all come to inquire after your health. I am much obliged to your ladyships, said Mrs. Jervis: Will your ladyships please to sit down? But, said the countess, we are not only come to ask after Mrs. Jervis's health neither; but we are come to see a rarity besides. Ah, says Lady Arthur, I have not seen your Pamela these two years, and they tell me she is grown wondrous pretty in that time. Then I wished I had not been in the closet; for when I came out, they must needs know I heard them; but I have often found, that bashful bodies owe themselves a spite, and frequently confound themselves more, by endeavouring to avoid confusion.

Why, yes, says Mrs. Jervis, Pamela is very pretty indeed; she's but in the closet there:—Pamela, pray step hither. I came out all covered with blushes, and they smiled at one another. The countess took me by the hand: Why, indeed, she was pleased to say, report has not been too lavish, I'll assure you. Don't be ashamed, child; and stared full in my face; I wish I had just such a face to be ashamed of.

O how like a fool I looked! Lady Arthur said, Ay, my good Pamela, I say as her ladyship says: Don't be so confused; though, indeed, it becomes you too.

I think your good lady departed made a sweet choice of such a pretty attendant. She would have been mighty proud of you, as she always was praising you, had she lived till now. Lady Towers said with a free air, for it seems she is called a wit, Well, Mrs. Pamela, I can't say I like you so well as these ladies do; for I should never care, if you were my servant, to have you and your master in the same house together. Then they all set up a great laugh.

I know what I could have said, if I durst. But they are ladies—and ladies may say any thing. Says Lady Towers, Can the pretty image speak, Mrs. I vow she has speaking eyes! O you little rogue, said she, and tapped me on the cheek, you seem born to undo, or to be undone!

God forbid, and please your ladyship, said I, it should be either! I then went away, with one of my best courtesies; and Lady Towers said, as I went out, Prettily said, I vow! I never saw such a face and shape in my life; why, she must be better descended than you have told me! And so they run on for half an hour more in my praises, as I was told; and glad was I, when I got out of the hearing of them.

But, it seems, they went down with such a story to my master, and so full of me, that he had much ado to stand it; but as it was very little to my reputation, I am sure I could take no pride in it; and I feared it would make no better for me. This gives me another cause for wishing myself out of this house. This is Thursday morning, and next Thursday I hope to set out; for I have finished my task, and my master is horrid cross!

And I am vexed his crossness affects me so. If ever he had any kindness towards me, I believe he now hates me heartily. Is it not strange, that love borders so much upon hate? But this wicked love is not like the true virtuous love, to be sure: that and hatred must be as far off, as light and darkness. And how must this hate have been increased, if he had met with such a base compliance, after his wicked will had been gratified. Well, one may see by a little, what a great deal means.

For if innocence cannot attract common civility, what must guilt expect, when novelty has ceased to have its charms, and changeableness had taken place of it? Thus we read in Holy Writ, that wicked Amnon, when he had ruined poor Tamar, hated her more than he ever loved her, and would have turned her out of door.

How happy am I, to be turned out of door, with that sweet companion my innocence! And while I presume not upon my own strength, and am willing to avoid the tempter, I hope the divine grace will assist me. Forgive me, that I repeat in my letter part of my hourly prayer. I owe every thing, next to God's goodness, to your piety and good examples, my dear parents, my dear poor parents! I say that word with pleasure; for your poverty is my pride, as your integrity shall be my imitation.

As soon as I have dined, I will put on my new clothes. I long to have them on. I know I shall surprise Mrs. Jervis with them; for she shan't see me till I am full dressed. Don't lose your time in meeting me; because I am so uncertain. It is hard if, some how or other, I can't get a passage to you. But may be my master won't refuse to let John bring me. I can ride behind him, I believe, well enough; for he is very careful, and very honest; and you know John as well as I; for he loves you both.

Besides, may be, Mrs. Jervis can put me in some way. I shall write on, as long as I stay, though I should have nothing but silliness to write; for I know you divert yourselves on nights with what I write, because it is mine. John tells me how much you long for my coming; but he says, he told you he hoped something would happen to hinder it.

I am glad you did not tell him the occasion of my coming away; for if my fellow-servants should guess, it were better so, than to have it from you or me. Besides, I really am concerned, that my master should cast away a thought upon such a poor creature as me; for, besides the disgrace, it has quite turned his temper; and I begin to believe what Mrs. Jervis told me, that he likes me, and can't help it; and yet strives to conquer it; and so finds no way but to be cross to me. Don't think me presumptuous and conceited; for it is more my concern than my pride, to see such a gentleman so demean himself, and lessen the regard he used to have in the eyes of all his servants, on my account.

And so, when I had dined, up stairs I went, and locked myself into my little room. There I tricked myself up as well as I could in my new garb, and put on my round-eared ordinary cap; but with a green knot, however, and my homespun gown and petticoat, and plain leather shoes; but yet they are what they call Spanish leather; and my ordinary hose, ordinary I mean to what I have been lately used to; though I shall think good yarn may do very well for every day, when I come home. A plain muslin tucker I put on, and my black silk necklace, instead of the French necklace my lady gave me; and put the ear-rings out of my ears; and when I was quite equipped, I took my straw hat in my hand, with its two blue strings, and looked about me in the glass, as proud as any thing—To say truth, I never liked myself so well in my life.

O the pleasure of descending with ease, innocence, and resignation! An humble mind, I plainly see, cannot meet with any very shocking disappointment, let fortune's wheel turn round as it will. I met, as I was upon the stairs, our Rachel, who is the house-maid; and she made me a low courtesy, and I found did not know me. So I smiled, and went to the housekeeper's parlour; and there sat good Mrs. Jervis at work, making a shift: and, would you believe it?

I could not help laughing, and said, Hey-day! Jervis, what! Pamela thus metamorphosed! How came this about? As it happened, in stept my master; and my back being to him, he thought it was a stranger speaking to Mrs. Jervis, and withdrew again: and did not hear her ask, If his honour had any commands for her? What can all this mean? I told her, I had no clothes suitable to my condition when I returned to my father's; and so it was better to begin here, as I was soon to go away, that all my fellow-servants might see I knew how to suit myself to the state I was returning to.

Well, said she, I never knew the like of thee. But this sad preparation for going away for now I see you are quite in earnest is what I know not how to get over. O my dear Pamela, how can I part with you! My master rung in the back-parlour, and so I withdrew, and Mrs. Jervis went to attend him. It seems, he said to her, I was coming in to let you know, that I shall go to Lincolnshire, and possibly to my sister Davers's, and be absent some weeks. But, pray, what pretty neat damsel was with you?

She says, she smiled, and asked, If his honour did not know who it was? No, said he, I never saw her before. Farmer Nichols, or Farmer Brady, have neither of them such a tight prim lass for a daughter! If your honour won't be angry, said she, I will introduce her into your presence; for I think, says she, she outdoes our Pamela. Now I did not thank her for this, as I told her afterwards, for it brought a great deal of trouble upon me, as well as crossness, as you shall hear.

That can't be, he was pleased to say. But if you can find an excuse for it, let her come in. At that she stept to me, and told me, I must go in with her to her master; but, said she, for goodness' sake, let him find you out; for he don't know you. O fie, Mrs. Jervis, said I, how could you serve me so? Besides, it looks too free both in me, and to him.

I tell you, said she, you shall come in; and pray don't reveal yourself till he finds you out. So I went in, foolish as I was; though I must have been seen by him another time, if I had not then. And she would make me take my straw hat in my hand. I dropt a low courtesy, but said never a word. I dare say he knew me as soon as he saw my face: but was as cunning as Lucifer. He came up to me, and took me by the hand, and said, Whose pretty maiden are you?

So neat, so clean, so pretty! Why, child, you far surpass your sister Pamela! I was all confusion, and would have spoken: but he took me about the neck: Why, said he, you are very pretty, child: I would not be so free with your sister, you may believe; but I must kiss you. He kissed me for all I could do; and said, Impossible! This was a sad trick upon me, indeed, and what I could not expect; and Mrs. Jervis looked like a fool as much as I, for her officiousness. He talked a good deal to Mrs. Jervis, and at last ordered me to come in to him.

Come in, said he, you little villain! I was resolved never to honour your unworthiness, said he, with so much notice again; and so you must disguise yourself to attract me, and yet pretend, like an hypocrite as you are——. I was out of patience then: Hold, good sir, said I; don't impute disguise and hypocrisy to me, above all things; for I hate them both, mean as I am. I have put on no disguise. I have been in disguise, indeed, ever since my good lady your mother took me from my poor parents.

I came to her ladyship so poor and mean, that these clothes I have on, are a princely suit to those I had then: and her goodness heaped upon me rich clothes, and other bounties: and as I am now returning to my poor parents again so soon, I cannot wear those good things without being hooted at; and so have bought what will be more suitable to my degree, and be a good holiday-suit too, when I get home.

He then took me in his arms, and presently pushed me from him. Jervis, said he, take the little witch from me; I can neither bear, nor forbear her— Strange words these! I thought he was mad, for my share; for he knew not what he would have. I was going, however; but he stept after me, and took hold of my arm, and brought me in again: I am sure he made my arm black and blue; for the marks are upon it still. Sir, sir, said I, pray have mercy; I will, I will come in!

He sat down, and looked at me, and, as I thought afterwards, as sillily as such a poor girl as I. At last he said, Well, Mrs. Jervis, as I was telling you, you may permit her to stay a little longer, till I see if my sister Davers will have her; if, mean time, she humble herself, and ask this as a favour, and is sorry for her pertness, and the liberty she has taken with my character out of the house, and in the house.

Your honour indeed told me so, said Mrs. Jervis: but I never found her inclinable to think herself in a fault. Pride and perverseness, said he, with a vengeance! Yet this is your doating-piece! Can you neither speak nor be thankful?