The Fortunes & Misfortunes of the Famous. Moll Flanders

advise me; I sat and cried and tormented myself night and day,

wringing my hands, and sometimes raving like a distracted

woman; and indeed I have often wondered it had not affected

my reason, for I had the vapours to such a degree, that my

understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and

imaginations.

I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I

had, weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and,

as it were, only bleeding to death, without the least hope or

prospect of help from God or man; and now I had cried too

long, and so often, that tears were, as I might say, exhausted,

and I began to be desperate, for I grew poor apace.

For a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings;

and as I was reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods,

which put a little money in my pocket, and I lived near a year

upon that, spending very sparingly, an eking things out to the

utmost; but still when I looked before me, my very heart would

sink within me at the inevitable approach of misery and want.

Oh let none read this part without seriously reflecting on the

circumstances of a desolate state, and how they would grapple

with mere want of friends and want of bread; it will certainly

make them think not of sparing what they have only, but of

looking up to heaven for support, and of the wise man’s prayer,

‘Give me not poverty, lest I steal.’

Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful

temptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away; poverty

presses, the soul is made desperate by distress, and what can

be done? It was one evening, when being brought, as I may

say, to the last gasp, I think I may truly say I was distracted

and raving, when prompted by I know not what spirit, and, as

it were, doing I did not know what or why, I dressed me (for

I had still pretty good clothes) and went out. I am very sure

I had no manner of design in my head when I went out; I neither

knew nor considered where to go, or on what business; but as

the devil carried me out and laid his bait for me, so he brought

me, to be sure, to the place, for I knew not whither I was going

or what I did.

Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an

apothecary’s shop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a

stool just before the counter a little bundle wrapped in a white

cloth; beyond it stood a maid-servant with her back to it,

looking towards the top of the shop, where the apothecary’s

apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the counter, with

his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking

and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted,

so that both were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else

in the shop.

This was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as

readily prompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and

shall never forget it, ’twas like a voice spoken to me over my

shoulder, ‘Take the bundle; be quick; do it this moment.’ It

was no sooner said but I stepped into the shop, and with my

back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that was

going by, I put my hand behind me and took the bundle, and

went off with it, the maid or the fellow not perceiving me, or

any one else.

It is impossible to express the horror of my soul al the while

I did it. When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to

mend my pace. I crossed the street indeed, and went down

the first turning I came to, and I think it was a street that went

through into Fenchurch Street. From thence I crossed and

turned through so many ways an turnings, that I could never

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