Great as my calamity was, to be torn from this asylum was regarded by me as an aggravation of it.

By a perverse constitution of mind, he was considered as my greatest enemy who sought to withdraw me from a scene which supplied eternal food to my melancholy, and kept my despair from languishing.
In relating the history of these disasters I derived a similar species of gratification.

My uncle earnestly dissuaded me from this task; but his remonstrances were as fruitless on this head as they had been on others.

They would have withheld from me the implements of writing; but they quickly perceived that to withstand would be more injurious than to comply with my wishes.

Having finished my tale, it seemed as if the scene were closing.