nothing left, and Morris Finley felt he was going ahead in the world, he left me. We went to Essex, and then came back to New-York; mother set up the milliner's business—temptation was on every side; and no wonder that such a poor weak creature as I fell. There was nothing to bind me to virtue. My mother, poor soul, died; and her death set me to thinking; and then, if a hand had been stretched out to me in kindness, it would have saved me; but the good set their faces against the bad—they do, Susan—I mean common good folks. You cannot tell what it is to have the eye of your fellow-creature look on you with scorn, or turned from you as if you were too vile to look upon: I have felt this, and I went from bad to worse."
"Why did not you come to us, Paulina? We would have done what we could for you."
"I was afraid to, Susan; I did not suppose there was anybody on earth good enough to pity me, because I was wicked; and, for that, most needed their pity."
"Then, Paulina, you must have concluded there were no true followers of Him who came to seek and save those that were lost?"
"Maybe I have my own evil courses, in part, to thank for such thoughts, Susan; but, then, is it not strange that human creatures don't make more allowance for one another? They say sick folks feel for sick folks. Sin is the worst of sickness, and are there any quite free from it?"
"You are right, Paulina; the strong should uphold the weak—the well should look after the sick."
