 in which I held her, and this did not a little increase the
perturbation of her thoughts.
    One day I was left alone with no other person in the house than this swarthy
sybil. The thieves had set out upon an expedition about two hours after sunset
on the preceding evening, and had not returned, as they were accustomed to do,
before day break the next morning. This was a circumstance that sometimes
occurred, and therefore did not produce any extraordinary alarm. At one time the
scent of prey would lead them beyond the bounds they had prescribed themselves,
and at another the fear of pursuit; the life of a thief is always uncertain. The
old woman had been preparing during the night for the meal to which they would
expect to sit down, as soon as might be after their return.
    For myself I had learned from their habits to be indifferent to the regular
return of the different parts of the day, and in some degree to turn day into
night, and night into day. I had been now several weeks in this residence, and
the season was considerably advanced. I had passed some hours during the night
in ruminating on my situation. The character and manners of the men among whom I
lived were disgusting to me. Their brutal ignorance, their ferocious habits and
their coarse behaviour, instead of becoming more tolerable by custom, hourly
added force to my original aversion. The uncommon vigour of their minds and
acuteness of their invention in the business they pursued, compared with the
odiousness of that business and their habitual depravity, awakened in me
sensations too painful to be endured. Moral disapprobation, at least in a mind
unsubdued by philosophy, I found to be one of the most fertile sources of
disquiet and uneasiness. From this pain the society of Mr. Raymond by no means
relieved me. He was indeed eminently superior to the vices of the rest; but I
did not less exquisitely feel how much he was out of his place, how
disproportionably associated, or how contemptibly employed. I had attempted to
counteract the errors under which he and his companions laboured; but I had
found the obstacles that presented themselves, greater than I had imagined.
    What was I to do? Was I to wait the issue of this my missionary undertaking,
or was I to withdraw myself immediately? When I withdrew, ought that to be done
privately, or with an open avowal of my design, and an endeavour to supply by
the force of example what was deficient in my arguments? It was certainly
improper, as I declined all participation in the pursuits of these men, did not
