Poor Julia, driven in disgrace from her father's house, found a refuge in the humble dwelling of an old woman of no very creditable character.

There I was called to visit her; and, although not unused to scenes of suffering and sorrow, I had never before witnessed such an utter abandonment to grief, shame, and remorse.

Alas! what sorrow was like unto her sorrow?
The birth hour of her infant was also that of its death.
"The agony of her spirit seemed greater than she could bear.

Her eyes were opened, and she looked upon herself with loathing and horror.

She would admit of no hope, no consolation; she would listen to no palliation or excuse of her guilt.