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moments; and reaching her a piece of gold, bad her go home, and ſhelter herſelf from the inclemencies of the night, at ſo late an hour. Her ſurpriſe and joy at ſuch unexpected charity overpowered her. She dropped upon her knees, in the wet and dirt of ⟨the⟩ ſtreet, and raiſing her hands and eyes ⟨toward⟩ heaven, remained in that poſture for ⟨ſome⟩ moments, unable to give utterance to {{reconstruct|the} gratitude that filled her heart.
Such a ſight was more expreſſive then all ⟨the⟩ powers of eloquence. He raiſed her tenderly from the ground, and ſoothing her with words of comfort, offered to conduct ⟨her⟩ to ſome place, where ſhe might get that ⟨refreſhment⟩ of which ſhe appeared to be in ⟨too⟩ great want. "0! Sir," (ſaid ſhe, ⟨preſſing⟩ the hand that had raiſed her, with her ⟨cold⟩ trembling lips) "my deliverer, ſent by heaven to ſave me from deſpair, let me not think of taking refreſhment myſelf till I have firſt procured it for thoſe whoſe greater wants I feel ten thouſand times more ſeverely then my own."
"Who can they be?" (interrupted Benevolus with anxious impatience) "Can humanity feel greater wants, than thoſe under which you are ſinking?"
"My father" (exclaimed ſhe burſting into ⟨tears⟩) "languiſhing under infirmities, acquired in the ſervice of his country; my mother, worn out with attending on him,
