On the evening after the destruction of our house, I removed my family into town. The event, considering our intended emigration, could not be contemplated as a misfortune; it accelerated, however, a course of mortification, which but for that accident would not probably so soon have come to pass. Our intention was scarcely known among our acquaintances, and they deemed the inclemency of adversity in consequence to have fallen more suddenly and with greater severity upon me, than was really the case—it tested their faithfulness. If I wish, however, to retain the good opinion of the reader, I must restrain myself from indulging remarks tinctured with misanthropy; I do not indeed feel any, I am only inclined to express inferences deduced from observation. But poverty begets vile thoughts, which mankind, from a benevolent sentiment, do not like to hear. General flatterers of human nature are as much favoured by the species, as particular sycophants by individuals.

It has been made sufficiently obvious, that besides the sear and yellow leaf into which my circumstances had fallen, there were irksome domestic vexations in our lot, which recommended emigration as the only expedient by which my adversity and these vexations could be alleviated. Our temporary removal brought others of a kind not so easily susceptible of remedy, and in some respects as bitter to suffer.