(George) entered; he said he considered it as his duty to inform Mrs. Mortimer that Mr. Modish and Mr. Chissel had formed a conspiracy to drive her out of Brighton, to accomplish which a writ was taken out against her for two hundred and ninety pounds, and that they were determined to place her in Horsham jail. Mrs. Mortimer was extremely alarmed at this intelligence, and consulting with the friend who had accompanied her, it was decided that they should leave Sussex that night; accordingly every thing was packed up, and ready for departing, when George informed Mrs. Mortimer that Brighton was in an uproar, that all the carriages in the place were stopped from taking her, and that her house was beset with all the tradespeople to whom she was indebted. In a few minutes her house was a scene of the greatest confusion. Mrs. Dart, the brandy-merchant, came with four men to seize on every thing in the house

for rent: some of the tradespeople swore at and insulted Mrs. Mortimer in the grossest language, calling her a swindler, and many other dreadful appellations. This was on a Sunday; and she was so frightened that she did not know how to act. Mrs. Godefroï, who came with her, begged she would make her escape, and she would take care of the children and follow her. This she did; but being perceived by one of her creditors, he called to others; they struck her in the side, and treated her in the most brutal manner. She went to an inn for a chaise; but when she asked for one, one of the tradespeople swore that if they attempted to take her out of town that he would cut the traces. To describe poor Mrs. Mortimer's situation is impossible; she walked on, the people swearing that as soon as twelve o'clock struck they would arrest her: George was with her, and a poor man came up, and whispered to her not to be so terrified; that there was

not one who followed that was a sheriff's officer, or any that could arrest her; that if she would give him something for his trouble, he would take her to a cottage of his father's, and get her a chaise. George also said he would go with her: to this she agreed; but several men still followed and abused her at last she fainted with terror, and her knee was cut in the fall to the bone. When she came to herself she proceeded; but not being equipped for such an expedition, her silk stockings and shoes were by the flints soon worn from her feet, and they were in a dreadful condition. At last the tradespeople were tired of fol lowing her; and after walking eleven miles in the middle of the night she reached the cottage: they got her a chaise, and she proceeded to London; but was more dead than alive, and her money nearly exhausted. She heard nothing of her friend or children till the next evening, when they made their

appearance. Mrs. Godefroï informed her that Mrs. Dart had locked up every thing in the house; that she and the two children had not had a bed to sleep upon; and that every person was shocked to think that Mrs. Dart, who was herself a widow and a mother, should act so cruelly, more especially as she was supposed to be very religious: but she had seized on every thing belonging to Mrs. Mortimer and her children, not leaving them even a change of apparel. The youngest child, who was between five and six years of age, was so frightened that it brought on a pleurisy, and no hopes were entertained of her life; and Mrs. Godefroi could not have brought the little Mortimers to town if it had not been for the humanity of a gentleman belonging to the War-office, who, though a stranger to Mrs Mortimer, was so hurt at hearing how she had been treated, that he politely sent a five pound note, fearing that the lady might not have suf

ficient to pay the expences of the jour ney. Mrs. Mortimer, as soon as she was sufficiently composed, thanked him for his great goodness, when she received this very kind answer :

Madam,

War-office, 29th May, 1810.

Simply to acknowledge the receipt of your afflicting letter of the 24th instant were to admit that I do not sympathize in your sufferings.

The

event which has introduced me to a knowledge of your situation is indeed most painful to my feelings; and be assured that although an utter stranger to you, the ingenuous recital of your case has so strongly impressed me with its sincerity, that to attempt any inquiry would surely be to doubt that I can feel another's woes. I feel, yes, and I do from my heart lament that man can be a monster; but daily experience proves the fact; and it is against the unprotected and