Plea 7

You press me to moderation of sorrow, and I know I ought to show it. But you do not know how the case stands with me. There is a sting in this affliction that none feels but myself. O how intolerable it is! I neglected proper means in season to preserve life, or failed in the use of means. I now see such a neglect, or such a mistake about the means, as I cannot but judge greatly contributed to the sad loss which I now — too late — lament.

O my negligence! O my rashness and thoughtlessness! How my conscience now smites me for my folly, and by this aggravates my burden beyond what is usually felt by others. Had I applied myself in season to the use of proper means, and kept strictly to such courses and counsels as those who are able and skilled might have prescribed, I might now have had a living husband, wife, or child. Whereas I am now not only bereaved, but am apt to think I have bereaved myself of them. Surely there is no sorrow like my sorrow.