Remember me to
Sally, who is truly amiable, and whom I sincerely esteem.
I beg, also, you will write immediately to New-York, for warding some
money for the comfortable support of _Peggy_ until my father can
provide for her. Do not permit grief at the loss of me to render you
forgetful of this, for the poor creature may expire of want in the
mean time. I beg this may be attended to without delay.
To you, my beloved, I leave our child; the child of my bosom, who was
once a part of myself, and from whom I shall shortly be separated by
the cold grave. You love him now; henceforth love him for me also. And
oh, my husband, attend to this last prayer of a doting mother. Never,
never listen to what any other person tells you of him. Be yourself
his judge on all occasions. He has faults; see them, and correct them
yourself. Desist not an instant from your endeavours to secure his
confidence. It is a work which requires as much uniformity of conduct
as warmth of affection towards him. I know, my beloved, that you can
perceive what is right on this subject as on every other. But
recollect, these are the last words I can ever utter. It will
tranquillize my last moments to have disburdened myself of them.
I fear you will scarcely be able to read this scrawl, but I feel
hurried and agitated. Death is not welcome to me. I confess it is ever
dreaded. You have made me too fond of life.
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