too great to permit her to articulate a single word.




CHAPTER XXX.

And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth and fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep.
WHEN Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course she
must take, or to whom she could apply, to prevent her perishing for
want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency of
the season. After many perplexed thoughts, she at last determined to
set out for New-York, and enquire out Mrs. Crayton, from whom she had no
doubt but she should obtain immediate relief as soon as her distress was
made known; she had no sooner formed this resolution than she resolved
immediately to put it in execution: she therefore wrote the following
little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thinking if she should have company with
her it would be better to send it in than to request to see her.

TO MRS. CRAYTON.

"MADAM,

"When we left our native land, that dear, happy land which now contains
all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same;
we both, pardon me, Madam, if I say, we both too easily followed the
impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on a