Thus do I pray imperfectly, as I am forced by my distracting fears and
apprehensions; and O join with me, my dear parents!--But, alas! how can
you know, how can I reveal to you, the dreadful situation of your poor
daughter! The unhappy Pamela may be undone (which God forbid, and sooner
deprive me of life!) before you can know her hard lot!

O the unparalleled wickedness, stratagems, and devices, of those who call
themselves gentlemen, yet pervert the design of Providence, in giving
them ample means to do good, to their own everlasting perdition, and the
ruin of poor oppressed innocence!

But now I will tell you what has befallen me; and yet, how shall you
receive it? Here is no honest John to carry my letters to you! And,
besides, I am watched in all my steps; and no doubt shall be, till my
hard fate may ripen his wicked projects for my ruin. I will every day,
however, write my sad state; and some way, perhaps, may be opened to send
the melancholy scribble to you. But, alas! when you know it, what will
it do but aggravate your troubles? For, O! what can the abject poor do
against the mighty rich, when they are determined to oppress?

Well, but I must proceed to write what I had hoped to tell you in a few
hours, when I believed I should receive your grateful blessings, on my
return to you from so many hardships.

I will begin with my account from the last letter I wrote you, in which I
enclosed my poor stuff of verses; and continue it at times, as I have
opportunity; though, as I said, I know not how it can reach you.

The long-hoped for Thursday morning came, when I was to set out. I had
taken my leave of my fellow-servants overnight; and a mournful leave it