[The incident is perhaps worth relating on other accounts, and therefore I shall describe it distinctly.] "I had a great affection for my nurse, old Mary, for whom I used often to work, to spare her eyes.

Mary had a younger sister, married to a sailor, while she was suckling me; for my mother only suckled my eldest brother, which might be the cause of her extraordinary partiality.
Peggy, Mary's sister, lived with her, till her husband, becoming a mate in a West-Indian trader, got a little before-hand in the world.

He wrote to his wife from the first port in the Channel, after his most successful voyage, to request her to come to London to meet him; he even wished her to determine on living there for the future, to save him the trouble of coming to her the moment he came on shore; and to turn a penny by keeping a green-stall.

It was too much to set out on a journey the moment he had finished a voyage, and fifty miles by land, was worse than a thousand leagues by sea.
"She packed up her alls, and came to London--but did not meet honest Daniel.

A common misfortune prevented her, and the poor are bound to suffer for the good of their country--he was pressed in the river--and never came on shore.
"Peggy was miserable in London, not knowing, as she said, 'the face of any living soul.' Besides, her imagination had been employed, anticipating a month or six weeks' happiness with her husband.